Page 8 of Tempted

“I’m sure that didn’t sully your evening much, though, did it.” I say snidely, not in the mood to take licks from him today.

He gives me a look, reading me like a book. “She didn’t give it up yet, did she.”

Well played, asshole. “Fuck you. It’s not like that.”

“But you want it to be.”

“What’s it to you if I do or not?”

He frowns. “It would get that fucking chip off your shoulder.”

“You think it’s that simple, do you. I get laid and move on again.”

“Well, isn’t it?” He asks as he scoops the eggs onto three plates. His face is impassive. He’s actually asking me. He’s not telling me or trying to be an asshole.

“If it was that simple, I’d have already done it or gone elsewhere to get it.”

“This one’s different then.”

“Wasn’t Moira different? Is that not why you’re still here? Or why she is, anyway.”

A ‘v’ forms between his brows. “What the fuck are we talking about here, man? You were the one that pulled me into youroffice to tell me that you’ve been seeing this lass, right? It’s not new to me, Malcolm. Stop beating around the bush. You like her. End of discussion.”

He eats a fork full of eggs and gestures for me to take a seat. I sit down and eat, and then Moira appears. She purses her lips into the semblance of a smile. “Morning, lass.”

“Morning, Malcolm. How are you this morning?”

“Just fine.”

Declan interjects. “He didn’t sleep with Steph.” He says. His eyes are dancing. He’s not trying to be an asshole, he’s just dicking around. When I look at him, he smiles, pleased with himself. I let it go and let him have it since he didn’t add insult to injury by making it sound derogatory.

“I gathered that, Declan. I wouldn’t think that a gentleman would leave a lass in bed if he’s had his way with her.”

My tone is self-righteous. I might as well have my nose in the air. “Thank you.”

Moira takes a seat next to Declan, where a plate of eggs has been provided, and she starts to eat. That’s when his phone makes the same noise it makes when it’s indicating that someone has arrived at the front gate. “I’ll give you one guess who that is.” Declan states.

“I’ll wager it’s someone bearing the Harris surname.” I add.

Declan raises an eyebrow. “It’s not one of ours. Oh…it’s…” He smirks but says nothing more. His eyes don’t leave his phone as he grants the visitor access.

“Who is it?” I ask. Not enjoying being toyed with now.

Even Moira looks at him expectantly as he walks to the door and opens it.

When Steph’s face appears, I find myself hanging my head, even though I’m happy to see her.

“Morning, lass.” Declan says.

“Is everything okay?” Moira asks. Concern is registered on her face.

Her gaze moves from mine to Moira’s. Her expression is unreadable. “Nothing happened last night.” She says firmly, as though someone asked as firm.

“We’ve…already covered that.” I tell her.

“You have.” She says as if she can’t believe that I told the truth. Then she changes tack. “And why would you even say anything? It’s none of anyone’s business.”

Moira interjects. “Like I said to Malcolm. It’s the only explanation for him being here and not still with you this morning.” Then she changes the subject. “I’m going to the funeral home. Would you like to come? My mama will be there, too.” She asks as though she’s about to go out for a bite and then shopping.

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