Page 153 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

It’s my guess he’ll be on the phone to Eoin as soon as he leaves here.

“Any updates on the phone data?” I turn my attention to the hog again, taking in the custom finish that’s been added to make it look as much like my old ride as possible.

Why would Eoin go to so much effort for someone he obviously cares very little about? You can’t just walk in off the street and buy this level of detail. This machine has had to be pre-ordered, then hand built.

“We’re almost done. Jessie was just finishing off when I was called away.”

I nod. “I won’t hold you up, then. I’ll wait here until you get back.”

He walks across and leaves the keys of the hog on the black leather seat.

Temptation.

I turn and walk back to the house.

If I’d never given in to that in the first place, maybe I wouldn’t be in love with a narcissistic asshole who can’t keep his dick in his pants.

* * *

I can feelEoin’s eyes boring into me when he enters the family room. Does he expect me to look at him? Why should I make eye contact?

After what they witnessed the last time they looked in his direction, he doesn’t deserve my eyes being anywhere near him.

As usual, the rest of the family watches our silent exchange. There’s no amusement this time. Not because they know he and I are through but because the subject about to be discussed is no laughing matter.

I make brief eye contact with Roisin and Fergal, then watch as Eoin sits beside his da so he’s directly facing me. Roisin looks between us both. She now knows that we’re over, or at least she suspects as much.

As is the norm, Sarah has taken the kids to the summer house, this time so Duke can be present. He’s sat to my right while Jessie is on my left.

Duke deserves to be here. This conversation may well contain information about Ace. More importantly, who was responsible for his death and why.

We sit in silence.

“Is Paddy on his way?”

I’m still aroused every time I hear Eoin’s dark, menacing voice. I hate him as much as I love him, not that he’s deserving of either emotion. Asshole.

“Sorry, I’m late.” I turn to look at Irish as he enters the room. His eyes connect with mine, and he shoots me a small smile. He’s obviously just showered, as his hair is still a wet mess.

I’ve had no heads-up in advance. I pray to God that, for his sake, today’s findings see him off the hook and no longer party to the contents of the contract with the Ruoccos. I watch as he takes a seat between Cillian and Aidan.

As much as he’s more withdrawn these days, Irish still has that something that’s just him. It’s what draws people in like a moth to a flame. A personality so vibrant you can’t help but fall in love with him.

Just like I did when I was nineteen years old.

While his eyes still hold an element of sadness, they’re filled with something else today. Hope.

And that’s what has his mouth ready to curve upward at any available opportunity into a smile that could light up a room or a life.

Just like he did mine.

My eyes then drift to Eoin. I know he’s been watching me watching Irish. Why? What does it matter to him that I’m admiring his brother? We make eye contact, and my insides flip over.

Green.

Anger. Arousal. Adrenaline.

The trigger won’t be arousal. If I still had that effect on him, he wouldn’t have fucked someone else.

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