Page 38 of Accidental Irish Daddy

I’ve got my street clothes on now. I came to work straight from the house, wearing one of my many sundresses with a jacket. I look at myself in the mirror as I throw the duffel bag over my shoulder and sigh.It sure was nice while it lasted.

I walk out to the parking lot.

He is standing by his car, leaning against the driver’s side. I stop for a moment. His eyes watch me closely, but they are guarded unlike earlier where I could see the anger and desire aimed at me.

Now all I sense is the unbridled tension between us and nothing else. I lick my lip nervously, wondering if I should bother trying to talk to him. I guess it can’t hurt.

“Mr. Duncan,” I start once I’m close enough to him. He gets off the door and opens it.

“Get in the car,” he orders and gets in without another word and I don’t know what else to do, so I walk around to the passenger’s side and get in.

“I’ve been sitting out here since seven,” he says as he starts up the car. “Came here straight from work and waited to see if you would show. I was hoping that you wouldn’t.”

I feel hot all over. Embarrassment and fear take hold of me. I try to breathe through it.

“It’s only a side job,” I try to explain. “It’s not what I want to do—”

“Do you haveanyidea the kind of element that hangs out in a gentlemen’s club?” he snaps. “The kind of people that come here? It’s a den of drugs and debauchery—”

“I’m not doing either, so what does it matter?” I retort defensively.

“How do I know that?” He glares at me in the dark. “I told you that I wouldn’t abide drugs or alcohol in my home—”

“And I haven’t brought any of that into your home!”

“I don’t know that!” he shouts. “I won’t have you threaten my sobriety with this, Aisling! I worked too hard for too long just for you to bring me down to this level!”

I blanch.

Sobriety?

He never said and I never asked. I thought, maybe, it might be something like that, but…well, I never actually knew until now.

“How long have you been sober?” I ask.

“That’s none of your business,” he growls. “And don’t change the subject. What you’re doing is—” He stops suddenly, seeing the bouncers perk up from the door. They can probably tell we’re arguing and we’re about two seconds from them coming to investigate.

He puts the car into drive and pulls out of the parking lot. “We’re not discussing this here.”

“Fine, I guess I’m fired now,” I say angrily. “When we get back, I’ll get mine and Bridget’s things—”

“We’re not going back to the house,” he cuts me off. “We’re not done talking about this and I’ll not have you contaminating my home any longer.”

“Oh, give me a break,” I roll my eyes at him. “You talk about me like I’m some sort of disease-ridden creature. It’s just dancing.”

“You’re dancing naked for drunk strangers,” he hisses.

I don’t say anything more. Instead, I turn my face from him and look out of the window at the world passing by. Soon enough, the landscape changes. We’re heading toward the country roads about a mile from the club.

“The moors are a terrible place to dump a body,” I snark at him.

He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be daft,” he responds. “I have property close by. That’s where we’re going.”

The property in question sits on an acre of land on the border of town. It’s a cottage sitting on an unpaved road. It’s muddy now from the seasonal rain, but I can picture it in the spring, with tons of green clover everywhere.

He parks in front of the house and orders, “Come on.”

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