Page 27 of Blindsided
Kane grins. “Or excellent taste in men.”
Despite everything, I find myself smiling back. There’s something oddly comforting about Kane’s company—maybe because he’s so clearly a disaster himself that I feel less alone in my own mess. Yeah, that has to be it.
The lead car turns down a narrow lane, and Rory follows. Through the windshield, I catch glimpses of a stone castle, now in ruins, perched on a bluff overlooking the sea. It’s beautiful in that ancient, weathered way that only Irish buildings can manage—like it grew out of the very earth rather than being built upon it.
“Home sweet home,” Kane murmurs as we pull up behind the other car.
Everyone piles out, and I suddenly feel very out of place. A tall auburn-haired woman—Kat, I remember from the plane—does a double-take when she sees me.
“Kane, tell me you didn’t kidnap the crying woman from the flight,” she says, exasperated.
“I wasn’t crying!” I protest automatically.
“She rescued me,” Kane explains, gesturing to his sandy, half-naked state. “After they buried me and left me to die.”
“We left you to sober up,” Declan corrects, approaching with keys in hand. “Which clearly didn’t work since you’ve now dragged a civilian into family business.”
“I’m not dragging her anywhere,” Kane says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. Sand sprinkles down my neck, and I try not to squirm. “She’s my emotional support human.”
“I’m nobody’s emotional support anything,” I objected, ducking out from under his arm. “And I was promised this would only take an hour.”
Wren approaches, her expression kinder than the others. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve had a rough morning.”
“Finding him buried on the beach will do that,” I say dryly.
She smiles. “Fair enough. In case you forgot, I’m Wren, by the way. We met briefly on the plane.”
“Kori,” I reply, though she probably already knows this.
“Well, Kori,” Declan interrupts, “as lovely as this is, we have private family business to attend to. Kane can bring you back to your cottage once he’s put some actual clothes on.” He looks at Kane and points to the car he’d been driving. “Your clothes are in there.”
“Fine by me,” I say, relief washing over me. What was I thinking, coming here with these people?
But as everyone heads toward the ruins, Kane hangs back, grabbing my hand. His rings are cold against my skin.
“Don’t leave yet,” he says quietly. “Please.”
“Why not?” I ask, confused by his sudden intensity.
He glances toward the castle, then back to me. “Because I have a horrible feeling about what we’re going to find in there, and I could use someone on my side when it all goes to shit.”
There’s something vulnerable in his eyes that catches me off guard—a glimpse of the man beneath the drunken bravado. Before I can respond, Declan calls from up ahead.
“Kane! Get in the car and put some damn pants on!”
He gives my hand a quick squeeze before releasing it. “Just wait? Ten minutes, tops.”
I should say no. I should demand to be taken back to Wavecrest immediately. Instead, I find myself nodding. “Ten minutes. Then I’m hitchhiking back if I have to.”
He flashes that crooked grin again. “That’s the spirit, airplane girl.”
As he jogs toward the car, I lean against the rental that Rory was driving and wonder what exactly I’ve gotten myself into. The wind whips my choppy hair around my face, and I pull my jacket tighter around me.
Ten minutes later, he emerges from the back seat of the car, and my breath catches in my throat.
I’m not prepared for the transformation. Theman who emerges from the backseat looks nothing like the sand-encrusted disaster I dug up. Kane has traded his wet boxers for dark jeans that hang just right on his hips, and a charcoal Henley that stretches across his shoulders, making my mouth go dry. His dark hair, now free of sand, falls in damp waves around a face that belongs on the cover of ‘Irish Bad Boys Monthly’ — if such a magazine existed. Which it absolutely should.
“Better?” he asks, spreading his arms for inspection.
