Page 63 of Broken Blood Ties

I swallow.

Fresh blue flowers placed in clear glass votives sit in the center and three taupe place settings fill the table. A cream napkin folded tall in a wave shape sits on top of the salad plate.

I shiver, grateful for the multiple heaters scattered around the deck. No matter where you stand, you’re enveloped with a delicious heat that licks away the chill in the air.

Kieran has changed his top to a wool pullover sweater with three wooden buttons that scream cabin in the woods, not a yacht on the ocean. But when he smiles at Aoife, I decidethat’smy favorite accessory on him.

“I know it’s chilly,” he says as I rub my arms over my chunky sweater. “But I couldn’t resist eatin’ up here while the sun sets.” He moves out a chair for Aoife, and she jumps in. “Did ye get settled in yer room okay?”

I bite my lip. “I—yeah. Probably too settled,” I mumble.

Kieran presses his lips together while pulling out another chair. Then he gestures to it, waiting for me to sit.

Aoife doesn’t miss my words though, and she blurts, “Miss Summer was sleeping.”

Kieran’s forehead shoots up while I slide into my chair. “Really?”

“Uh-huh! She was talking to you.”

Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I debate whether I should run for the side of the boat and jump—take my chances in the ocean.

A few seconds of silence pass with nothing but the sloshing of waves to emphasize the words Aoife just uttered. I peek open an eyelid to see Kieran staring at me, holding a glass of whiskey-colored liquid.

He swirls it around. “Funny. Didn’t realize we were havin’ a conversation, Miss Smith.”

My cheeks grow hotter, and my body is burning on the inside. No need for the heaters now.

“Just a slight nightmare,” I say, pinching my lips together to keep from wincing. He doesn’t know it wasthatkind of dream.

“Oh, yeah? What did I do to ya?” He smirks with the lighthearted teasing tone and tilts his head to the side with a certain gleam in his eye.

I huff and fidget in my seat. “Actually”—I tuck my arms together across my chest—“I dreamed you left me alone on this boat. Had to captain the thing by myself.” It’s a randomized fib, but I hold his stare trying to muster as much confidence in mine as possible.

“Huh.” Kieran swirls his glass. “Maybe that’s yer subconscious telling ye I’m irreplaceable.”

He’s joking. It’s written all over his sexy face, and it exudes from his shoulders that shake in a barely audible chuckle. His words sucker punch me. I’m not sure thereisanother man like Kieran O’Donnell, rendering what he says true. He’s irreplaceable.

I look toward Aoife, whose eyes dart back and forth between Kieran and me. A throat clears behind me, and I turn to see two crew members with the appetizers for the night.

“Sir,” the tall lanky male says. “Chef has prepared seared scallops with a citrus Beurre Blanc, served on a bed of microgreens and garnished with herbs and lemon zest. Enjoy.” He sets a modest plate of scallops between Kieran and me.

“And for Miss O’Donnell, we have the fried mac and cheese balls.” Aoife giggles when a young woman sets the plate of two deep fried spheres in front of her.

I eyeball Aoife’s mac and cheese gooiness as she bites into one, and I’m slightly jealous. Don’t get me wrong, I love seafood, and I haven’t had good scallops in years. But the dish in front of her looks promising.

“Help yerself,” Kieran says as he takes a few scallops soaked in butter sauce and drops them onto his plate.

I smile, grateful he’s not making this awkward by serving me. “I haven’t had scallops in so long,” I admit.

He nods. “I don’t eat much seafood. Allie is allergic to shellfish, so we rarely risk much seafood in the house. But here on the yacht with me crew—it seems fittin’ to have a meal or two. Aoife on the other hand can’t stand it.”

Aoife smiles, taking another hurried bite of her own appetizer. She stays quiet as her head continues to ping-pong between us.

“Does the crew stay here full time?” I ask, taking a tentative bite of my scallop. I groan at the buttery decadence.

Kieran squirms, restless, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Uh, aye. Me crew is full time. This is me second yacht. The first was tinier than this beauty here, and I traded up about four years ago, around the time Aoife was born. Cormac calls it me mid-life crisis ship.”

“How so?” I don’t mean to be offensive, but Kieran licks his lips, shoulders slumping inward before letting out a sigh. Should I not have asked that?

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