Page 51 of Inheriting an Irish Groom
That made her laugh. A real one. Full and unfiltered.
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about our kisses.”
“You brought it up.”
“No,youbrought it up.”
“You literally just said the word ‘kiss.’”
“Only in reference to how irritating you are.”
“That’s slander.”
“That’s truth.”
Their eyes locked. Banter dissolved into something softer, slower. Warmer.
The kind of silence that pulsed.
“Are you still mad about me kissing you in the pub the other night?” he asked, voice low.
“Which part?”
“The kiss. The attraction. The feud. The fact that I said I wanted to see you again.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “No.”
He leaned closer. “What about now?”
Her pulse skipped. “Still no.”
“Then I’m going to ask you something.”
She raised a brow. “If it involves goats or betrothals, or kissing me in a pub full of gossips, it’s a no.”
“It doesn’t.” He smiled, just enough to ruin her concentration. “Come to dinner with me again. Just you. Me. Food. Conversation.”
She tried not to grin too widely. “You’re relentless.”
“I’m Irish. It’s in the blood.”
After a beat, Aisling crossed her arms and tilted her head. “All right. A girl’s gotta eat, and my kitchen’s currently a war zone. But I’m paying.”
Ronan straightened, looking scandalized. “Absolutely not.”
“Then it’s a no.”
He leaned back in his chair, one brow arched, wearing that infuriatingly smug smirk. “We’ll see.”
Aisling rose and stepped forward, her hands braced on the table. She kissed him, soft and teasing, just a brush of lips and heat.
“Get the hell out of here,” she murmured, “so I can get some work done.”
He blinked, still leaning into the kiss that was already gone. “What about my next chapter?”
“It’ll keep until tomorrow,” she said, moving to the doorway. “Today’s for clearing out the bedrooms. Paint’s going up soon.”
It wasn’t a total lie, there was plenty to do, but if she was being honest, she needed space from the story, fromhim, from the emotional aftermath of finding Patrick’s letter and the whiplash of her own feelings.
