Page 82 of The Bossy One

If only I could flee from my growing feelings.

26

DECLAN

Three days after our fight, things still felt off between me and Olivia. It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on—we were just more careful with each other. And it wasn’t the same. I missed the way her personality took up the whole room when she was genuinely relaxed and happy. I didn’t like seeing her so uncertain, almost diminished.

I sat in my office and stared blankly at my email inbox.

After my initial apology, I’d tried wooing Olivia out of her shell with family movie nights, skinny-dipping in the pool after we put Catie down for the night, and—of course—plenty of sex. For a moment or two, I’d have her with me entirely, like it used to be. And then she’d draw into herself and slip away from me. It felt like there was something on her mind she couldn’t tell me.

If I were in a cheesy romance likeThe Deer and the Warrior, I would have grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her, and demanded she tell me her secrets. Then I could have given her a punishing kiss and crushed whatever demons were haunting her.

Unfortunately, Olivia didn’t want me to slay her demons. She wanted me to becivilized.

Damn it.

I grimaced. Then I dug around in my inbox until I found the most recent missive from Seamus O’Rourke. If Olivia needed me to meet with Seamus to prove I was the bigger man and not some raging beast she needed to fear, than I could do it.

I would meet with Seamus, he’d be an arse like always, and then I could hate him for being an arse instead of solely for his last name. I hoped the distinction would be enough for Olivia.

I dashed out an email telling Seamus I could meet him in three hours at a hotel bar in Galway, but only for fifteen minutes. It was mostly frequented by travelers and tourists, so I doubted anyone from Ballybeith would see us.

Seamus’s confirmation was embarrassingly grateful. He used three exclamation marks.

“Have some dignity, man,” I muttered.

Three unfortunate hours later, I stepped into the hotel bar. It was a historic hotel, with low ceilings, dark wood tables, and unremarkable oil paintings on the walls. I spotted Seamus sitting at the bar, twisting a pint of beer nervously in his hands. He’d already drunk over half of it.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, and headed over to him.

Do it for Olivia,I told myself.

When Seamus spotted me, he nearly fell off his stool in his enthusiasm to stand and greet me. When he found his balance, he held his hand out to me to shake. “Declan.”

“O’Rourke.” I didn’t shake his hand. I sat down at the bar next to him.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

As if this was a bloody social call.

“What do you want, Seamus? Are you here to warn me away from interfering in Mark’s efforts to sell your buildings?” I asked.

“What?” Seamus shook his head, confused. “This isn’t about business. It’s personal.”

I laughed, the sound cold and callous even to my own ears. “There’s nothingpersonalbetween us. Nothing.”

Seamus twisted his glass nervously, but stubbornly. “How’s Sinead?”

I all but growled. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

Seamus held up his hands in surrender. “Jesus, you’re jumpy. I meant no disrespect. It’s just that she hasn’t been answering her phone.”

Because she’s in rehab, your arse,I thought. But what I said was, “That probably means she doesn’t want to talk to you, Seamus. And if you think I’ll put in a good word for you with her, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Seamus clenched his jaw. I could see my taunts were getting to him. He was flushed.

Go on,I thought.Show me your true colors.

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