Page 150 of Secondhand Smoke

“A man doesn’t ask his woman to put herself in that kind of danger for him,” Aidan said firmly. “He just doesn’t.”

“A bit sexist, are we?”

“If it’s sexist to want to protect your girl, sure, yeah, I’m a sexist asshole.”

“What does she think of the idea?”

“I haven’t told her yet.”

“Why not?”

This was getting frustrating. “Because I’ve got a bad feeling she’ll jump all over it, to help Kev. And then what am I gonna do?”

Ian lifted his glass and swirled the contents, studying them with a frown. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? Instinctual. The man wanting to protect his mate. Spare her from the physical dangers of his world. Take the bullet for himself. Cover her with his body. Shield her.” His brows gave a little leap of disbelief. “It’s so highly discouraged in this day and age, and yet it’s arguably the most noble of male behaviors.” His eyes came to Aidan. “Take yourself for example. What have you to offer anyone, save your gun and your shielding arms?”

Aidan pulled his temper back, forcibly checked his reaction. “This is my club, my brother, my business, and my problem. If I involve her, and she gets hurt…” He couldn’t even think about it, much less voice it.

“You need not speak to me of guilt,” Ian said. “I’m all too familiar with it.”

“Shit.” Aidan sank back in the chair and rubbed at his temples. He had a monster headache coming on. “So that’s where we’re at.”

Ian sighed. “I’d offer the use of two of my office staff girls…but I wouldn’t trust them with your club’s business. Your call.”

“I only trust family.”

Ian nodded. “Should I be flattered?”

“If you wanna be.”

~*~

“Sam,” Mom said that evening as they cleaned up the dinner dishes, “I’m worried about you.”

They’d had Cobb salad with grilled chicken on top, and Sam scraped leftover egg crumbles into the garbage. “Why?” she asked, heart giving a little worried bump. She was never on the receiving end of these sorts of talks in her household. That was Erin’s thing, making Mom worry.

“I saw Aidan leave this morning,” Helen said.

“He came over late,” Sam said. “We didn’t wake you coming upstairs, did we? I’m sorry.”

“Samantha.”

There was no avoiding that tone; rarely used, but deeply respected. Sam looked at her mother and saw more than passing concern; a deep and sad sort of sympathy. “I know you love him, Sam,” Helen said. “And I know you haven’t ever loved a man, and you deserve that chance.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

Helen smiled. “I don’t want you to get hurt. And I like Aidan, I do, but I’m afraid he seems the sort who hurts people without even meaning to.”

Wasn’t that the truth?

Sam started to respond and was cut off by the ringing of her cellphone. It was Aidan.

“Can I come pick you up?” His voice was strained. “I wanna talk about something.”

Her stomach clenched, but she said, “Sure.”

When she hung up, she glanced at her mother.

Helen nodded. “Go. Have fun.”

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