“My friend from college, Gwen, is a nurse here. We met for coffee this morning, and she’s been taking me around to the different floors and introducing me to the kids. She just brought me to Claire’s room—said she’d saved the best for last.” Kacey’s small smile of agreement was a punch right to my gut—right to where I shouldn’t feel. “I won’t stay long but if you want me to go—”
“No.” It was all I could manage. Stark truth with no explanation. My hands dug into my hips, burrowing my fingers against the bone so they didn’t reach for her softness—her warmth.
I swallowed a groan. God, she was so damn exquisite like this, up close. And I’d been a damned fool for tellin’ that to her.
Resisting her was even harder when she knew I was fighting it.
“I didn’t know you had a niece,” she continued softly.
“My brother’s daughter.” My lips firmed and then, for no fathomable reason, I added, “He never met her. Didn’t know she existed when he…” Another exhale pulled from my chest, her presence a vacuum for the tension I held inside me.
“What about her mother?”
My throat tightened. “Janet wasn’t feeling well today. Told her I’d come.” Grunting, I changed course. “Why’d ye do that? Why’d ye lie?”
The ‘for me’ went unsaid but not unfelt in the heavy friction of our gaze.
“Why wouldn’t I let her believe you were the one to ask?” She folded her arms, her breasts swelling against her shirt, and I bit my cheek to barricade my groan.
I inched closer to her. “Because it’s not the truth.”
“Are you sure you want me to stay?”
My tongue slammed against the cage of my mouth, against the bars of barbarity that should insist I didn’t. But I couldn’t… because that was the real lie.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I rasped with a low, defeated voice. I wanted her here for more than that reason though.
“Then there’s no reason to let her think otherwise, is there?” Her inquiring eyebrow rose.
My chin dipped. I’d accused her of lacking restraint and here she stood, the opportunity to dim my image in front of the person I cared most about, and she hadn’t. Instead, she’d made me out to be a hero.
“Consider it my ‘thank you’ for handling that reporter the other day,” she offered with a slight quiver to her voice and reached out to clasp my arm comfortingly, though the touch did anything but calm me.
Heat licked through my skin like an angry fire and she quickly pulled back, both of us feeling the burn. No matter where the conversation went, her touch had turned our bodies down a different path.
With a low growl, I stepped closer to her, desire spreading like an infectious, untreatable disease.
“Right, but ye dinna hafta do this, lass,” I rasped, letting both my lilt and lust infuse my words without inhibition. “No’ after I—”
“Garret…” She breathed my name, and I knew I was about to make a fool out of myself again by breaking the restraint I’d flaunted in her face.
“Uncle G!” Claire yelled—a bright burst of divine intervention.
I pulled back instantly, recollecting where we were and who was just inside the room.
“Yeah, Bear?” I called back, hoarsely.
“Where’s Kacey?” the little voice yelled.
My gaze locked with Kacey’s, both of us still breathing heavy—still breathing fumes.
Before I did something even stupider than lusting after the woman driving my race car, I stepped back and ducked my head.
“She’s comin’,” I replied, nodding and motioning for Kacey to return to my niece. As she stepped by me, I reached out and clasped her wrist, holding her back—keeping her for myself for one more selfish second. “When yer done, I’ll take ye back to the garage.”
Her eyes widened and for a second I thought she would refuse, but then her swift nod came before she returned to my niece’s bedside.
I should’ve left. I should’ve gone to the common room and sat and waited, giving Claire some time to ask Kacey what I was sure was an encyclopedia of questions. But I wanted to know. I wanted to hear what Kacey had to say to questions I had no right to ask. I needed to know more about the woman who captivated me.
But when Claire’s first question dealt with me, my feet grew roots that tangled in the tile floor, anchoring me to my post.
“Did he yell at you?” her worried voice questioned.
Kacey laughed, and I could see her shake her head as she answered, “Oh, no.”
There was always some movement that accompanied her replies—as though, even for something as simple as a question, her whole body responded. Without restraint.
For an intense, uninhibited second, the kind of need I’d buried for so long roared to life and imagined the kind of response to pleasure her body would give. My blood turned to fire and my cock into solid stone. My teeth drew blood from my tongue where they sank into the trapped flesh, giving in to my fantasies for one moment before I forced them away.
Claire was my priority.
Claire and Janet.
For Danny.
I had no room—nothing left to give to anyone else. And nothing left I was willing to lose.
“Good. I’ve never heard him yell, but I know sometimes people do when they get mad,” Claire continued, pulling me from my thoughts. “And I know Uncle G doesn’t like to smile, but it’s not your fault,” Claire said as I lingered just outside her door, hidden against the frame. “It’s mine.”
My heart stopped and split.
What?
“I don’t believe that,” Kacey replied.
Swallowing over the bitter lump in my throat, I turned and peered through the window, watching Kacey sit and pull one slender leg up on the bed next to Claire.
Claire’s head hung. “It’s because I’m sick and not getting better.”
Christ. My hand tightened on the metal doorframe, willing my bones to break for the pain I’d caused.
I didn’t smile because it should be me in there. Suffering.
I didn’t smile because it should be him—Danny out here.
If one of us had to go, it should’ve been me.
“I know that’s not the case.”
The tiny head popped back up. “You do? How?”
Kacey smiled and, for a split second, glanced right at me through the shaded window before replying, “Did you watch the Daytona 500?”
My heart thumped loudly in my ears, almost drowning out the sounds of their voices as they carried. Daytona. The race—the day Kacey refused to talk to anyone about, she was now bringing up to Claire—because of me.
“Yeah. I watch all your races!” Claire nodded. “I wanted you to win!”
Kacey winced even as she laughed and held a brave smile. “I did, too. Trust me. Did you smile when the race was over?”
My niece shook her head vigorously as her little face screwed in horror. “No. I was so mad when you crashed.”
“But were you mad at me?”
“No!” The word even more emphatic this time as she grabbed Kacey’s hand, squeezing it to convince her of her sincerity. “It wasn’t your fault, Kacey!”
I held my breath, letting the beats of my heart drag out in low, captivated beats, hanging onto each second of their conversation as though they were my last.
“Well, that’s how your uncle feels. Of course, he’s not mad at you for being sick. But it’s hard to smile when what you’re hoping for doesn’t happen… and what does happen is something unexpected and scary.”
I blinked rapidly, feeling a burn against my eyelids listening to the woman I’d accused of being shallow and uncontrolled ease the burdens I’d unknowingly placed on the most important person in my life.
“You think he’s scared?” Claire’s eyes turned round. “I don’t think my Uncle G is afraid of anything. I wish I could be brave like him. Or like you,” she declared. “I want to be a race car driver, but I don’t think I’m brave enough.”
Kacey hummed. “Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared.”
“It doesn’t?” Claire’s astonished whisper carried out into the hall.
“I’m scared each time I get ready to race,” Kacey confided.
“You are?” Claire gasped. “Of crashing?”
Kacey chuckled and nodded. “That. And a lot of other things.”
“Like what?”
I bit back a groan, flattening my back against the doorframe, thoroughly hostage to their conversation.
“Making any mistakes. Not doing well—or well enough for my team. Disappointing them. Disappointing myself. Disappointing you.”
Claire shook her head, grasping at her little bonnet to keep it steady on her bald head.
“It’s okay to feel scared. That’s how you know you’re being brave—because you’re still doing it; you’re still fighting for what you want,” Kacey assured her. “And that’s how I know you’re the bravest of us all.”
Claire shook her head and clutched her stuffed animal. “No.”
Kacey reached out and took both of Claire’s arms and flipped them over, revealing all the dots and bruises and scars from all the pricks and procedures she’d been through.
“I don’t think I’d be as brave as you are having to go through all of this to get better,” Kacey insisted fervently. “So, if you’re brave enough to smile through all that, you’re definitely brave enough to be a race car driver.”
A low groan rumbled from my chest.
I didn’t want Claire to survive one deadly danger only to choose to put herself in the grasp of another, but my feet refused to move me into the room and my mouth refused to protest.
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” Kacey confirmed, and I’d never seen Claire’s little face look so hopeful.
As much as my niece loved me, I could never give her the kind of assurance—the kind of hope that Kacey had just done.
“But for right now, this is the race you need to focus on winning, and you can’t race if you haven’t eaten.” Kacey reached over and slid the leveraged table over the bed and in front of Claire. “So, you should get started on that soup before it gets cold.”
Smiling, Claire grabbed her spoon as Kacey stood up.
“You’ll come back again, right?” Claire demanded, her expression infused with worry.
“Absolutely.” Kacey beamed. “I’m going to need some pointers before we go to Indianapolis.” She bent closer and whispered, “I’m a little afraid because I’ve never driven there before.”
Claire’s mouth formed a small ‘o’.
“Maybe my Uncle G can go with you,” she blurted with a huge smile. “He doesn’t have to stay with me. I’ll be okay. He can remind you to be brave. Plus, you’re the only girl. Everyone’ll be nice to you.”
I bumped my head against the doorframe, my niece’s innocent and unknowing words making me feel even more like the feckin’ arse I was.
“Are you okay, Mr. Gallagher?”
I blinked open to see one of Claire’s nurses—Kacey’s friend—Gwen approach. One could tell just by looking at her that she was a woman who put her whole heart into this job. Caring for her patients and their families. Had to make you wonder if she had anything left at the end of the day for herself or anyone else.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She smiled—the kind that kind of exploded all over her face. “I knew Claire was going to be so excited. I almost couldn’t keep it a secret when Kacey called and told me she was coming.” She paused. “I did tell Janet. I didn’t have your number. She said it was—”
“It’s fine,” I assured her. The only person I was upset with right now was myself.
“Have you met Kacey? I can introduce you—”
“I work with Miss Snyder.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Oh. Wonderful.” Gwen jumped when her pager buzzed. “I’ve actually got to run. If you get a chance, could you let Kacey know I’ll call her later?”
I nodded, and Gwen disappeared down the hall.
Filling my lungs, I didn’t realize my eyes drifted shut until I felt a small breeze as someone moved by me.
“Kacey,” I growled low and pushed off the wall, following the woman who’d walked out of the room without stopping to talk to me.
She spun to face me, her face a mix of emotions. “What did I do wrong now, G?” The question was wavering on the edge of defeat.
I winced. Of course, that was what she’d come to expect from me. But the hurt I saw bleached into the bright color of her eyes wasn’t what I’d come to expect from her.
“That’s no what I was goin’ ta say,” I drawled.
“Uncle G?” Claire’s small voice calling for me put the brakes on our conversation.
“It doesn’t matter.” Kacey sighed, half-turning down the hall toward the exit.
“I’m givin’ ye a ride back,” I said with a low, warning voice. I wasn’t compromising on this. Not after someone had followed her the other day. And not when I needed to talk to her.
To explain.
To apologize.
And to find a new reason—a better reason—not to kiss her.
“One sec, Bear,” I hollered to my niece, though my focus never left Kacey. “I’ll toss ye in the back of the truck if I hafta.” There was no question in my voice. No inch for disagreement.
“Fine, but I think I need a drink.” She sighed, resting her hands on her hips.
“Then I’ll take ye for one, lass. Just gimme a minute.”
Whatever she needed. Wherever she needed to go. It was happening with me.
Her shoulders sagged, green eyes glassy as they met mine. “I’ll wait outside.”
Kacey
HE HAD A NIECE.
A very smart niece who was my fan.
And a very sick niece.
“Two Jamesons, Charlie. Neat,” Garret ordered as we approached the bar. The unquestioning nod of familiarity from the bartender indicated the mechanic wasn’t new to Molly’s Bar, a ramshackle building just down the road from the garage.
The drive passed too quickly, sitting in silence with the brooding, beautiful mechanic, as my thoughts lapped around themselves.
Meeting Claire had revealed about as many answers about G as it had prompted more questions. Even recalling the moment he’d walked through the door to Claire’s room sent a white ball of shock dropping into my stomach and exploding into pain. It didn’t matter what he’d said to me—how he’d made me feel—Garret was facing something that no one should have to. Somethings.
The suicide of his brother.
The infamous end to his career.
And now, the illness of the only family he had left.
Bear.
To say it was endearing to hear the way his accent rolled over the pet name, to see the way his eyes simmered protectively yet his stony façade turned to mush when she spoke to him—teased him—was a lie.
It was the puzzle piece that connected so many of his actions—showing up late to work and then working late into the night, why G lived in Charlotte, possibly even why Renner decided to build the car here, why G agreed to the media spots even though he was vocally against them.
But it didn’t explain why he disliked me—especially when Claire was my biggest fan.
And maybe my only fan after Daytona.
I shuddered, Claire’s small voice telling me that I was brave—and she, the cancer patient, wasn’t brave enough, twisted the knot of shame in my stomach so tightly it was a good thing we’d pulled into the parking lot because I felt like I wanted to puke.
Pulling my hair over my shoulder, I busied myself for a moment wiping the sprinkling of raindrops caught amid the mass. It was my own fault—speaking to her honestly about the past twisted my insides in a way that was harder to uncoil than I’d hoped.
“No Guinness today, eh?” Charlie drawled, setting the two glasses down with a smile of mismatched teeth and eyes as warm as the whiskey. “Clair
e havin’ a rough day?”
I winced. Even the bartender knew more about Garret than I did.
And for some insane reason, it didn’t dull the way I wanted to kiss him.
Maybe because kissing him felt like the only way to get to know him. My only recourse.
“Somethin’ like that,” Garret replied. The bartender glanced in my direction, taking the hint, before nodding and going to serve two men who sat a few seats down from us.
My eyes traveled around the room—anything to take them on a detour away from Garret. Today, his dark jeans were still worn and his deep gray t-shirt wrapped over his broad chest like a familiar friend.
The small place didn’t look like much on the outside, and it barely fit the rich stained-wood bar on the inside, but the dim lighting, pungent aroma of beer and hospitality, complete with a bartender who knew your name, made me think of Europe—of a quintessential Irish pub. Only I’d never been to Ireland, so the association was only to my imagination.
Or maybe it was to the Irishman sitting next to me—the lilt of his voice, the fiery waves of his hair, and the rugged brawn that clung to him like green on a shamrock. In the garage or out of it, there was nothing that changed about this man. Even if he could be just as callous and cold as he could make me burn under the flames of his desire, there was a raw honesty in every inch of him that I could count on—even if it hurt me.
“Kacey—” I knew that look. It was the same one from the clean room the other day when he’d asked about Daytona.
“That was what the phone call was about, wasn’t it?” I broke in. I didn’t want to talk about me. I didn’t want to talk about how fear rattled like marbles dropped in my bones. “It was about Claire.”
His jaw tensed as he took a sip of the amber liquid, letting it lull and soak into his mouth before swallowing. Following his lead, I did the same.
I wasn’t much of a drinker—especially straight alcohol like this. But strangely, the rich burn of the Irish whiskey felt cleansing rather than caustic.
“Had ta switch her meds,” he rasped, swirling his glass. My gaze lingered on his fingers. He must’ve washed his hands at least a dozen times at the hospital today, but there were still dark streaks and shadows lining his fingernails that would never come off.
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