Chance was a beautiful thing.
I wasn’t early, and I wasn’t late to dinner. I might be a kind of fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type of girl for a lot of things, but I was pretty obsessive about being on time. Not too early. Not too late.
When the attendant took my coat, the hostess asked for my name and glanced down the list, shaking her head. When I gave her Declan’s name, she didn’t need to look anything up. She simply leveled one hell of an assessing gaze at me before glancing over her shoulder and pointing to where he sat at the bar.
Was that a little twinge of jealousy in her eyes as I walked by? Did he have half the women in this city under his spell?
He stood when he saw me coming, and it gave me a moment to drink him in. I could hardly stand the guy, had no idea why I’d agreed to dinner with him, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t drool a little over him. He was cut from stone, apparently, and the gel that had probably held his hair perfectly out of his eyes all day long had worn a little, letting a few strands fall in front of his eyes in a carelessly graceful way that made me want to eat him up.
I blinked hard at my thoughts and collected myself before I really got out of hand. He was wearing dark charcoal slacks and a black fitted shirt, no tie. His matching charcoal jacket was slung over his chair, so I got a few glorious moments to check out the muscles just beneath the fabric. And, boy, did he have plenty.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said as I came to stand in front of him.
Declan’s smile had serious wattage to it, and I blinked under its intensity.
“Something in your eye? You’re blinking a lot tonight.”
He wasn’t necessarily making fun of me, but the observation made me incredibly self-conscious. Instead of responding, I snatched the wine from his hand, not caring that a moment before I might have taken issue with him ordering without knowing exactly what I wanted, and took a sip.
I batted my lashes. “Sorry, just trying to blink away the asshole in front of me.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Bartender’s suggestion, not mine.” I just shrugged, not really caring at this point who ordered the stuff. It was good, and it kept my hands and face busy so I wouldn’t be blinking myself into another embarrassing situation.
It seemed that we’d only been seated a few moments when we’d given our orders and gotten our bread and salads, and I couldn’t believe just how much the man crammed himself into a tiny little box of existence.
We’d barely had time to relax into the meal and really start to get to know each other after I’d rambled on about fish tacos and food trucks when there was a commotion behind me.
“Duke!” someone yelled, and Declan’s face crumbled a bit as the chaos drew closer. I made a move to turn around, but he reached across the table and grabbed my hand.
“Don’t make a move,” he whispered urgently. “Maybe they’ll get sidetracked.”
Frowning, I looked to see if he was serious, and holy hell, yes, he was. His lips were set in a thin line, and the scowl on his face could melt stone. Declan even lowered his head and pretended to be incredibly interested in his boring-ass salad that I’d made fun of him for.
“What is it?” I wanted to turn around and look so badly, but his hand held mine tight.
Declan didn’t get a chance to answer as the source of his stress and humiliation arrived moments later.
“Duke!” an older man yelled from directly behind me. Before I knew it, two heavy chairs had been plunked on either side of our table, and two older men with giant mustaches and white hair sat down beside us.
“Didn’t you hear Jimmy calling you?” The man to my left punched Declan in the arm. “Christ! They could have heard him across the hah-bah the way he was carrying on at the sight of you.”
The man opposite him chortled. His attention was taken by a passing waitress, whose skirt he hooked his fingers into, pulling her to a stop and ordering himself and his brother drinks.
“Don’t listen to him, Dukey,” he said. “Joseph’s been a stick in the mud for a week now, ever since that lady he was seeing from the senior center dumped him for the old fart who deals the poker game on Wednesday nights. He’s been a miserable son of a bitch all week.”
I watched as Declan swallowed hard and met my eyes. There was something I couldn’t quite read, and unfortunately, I was at the end of my rope when it came to containing my smile. I remembered these two once I heard their voices and connected their names.
James and Joseph Casey — the two younger brothers of Declan’s father, Patrick.
I was sitting next to Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Joseph, and Declan looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and never come out.
This. Was. Priceless.
“Uncles,” Declan said, his voice still formal. “What brings you two here tonight?”
Jimmy started in on the bar specials they’d come for, but Joseph must have just realized I was sitting there.
“Well, hello, miss,” the younger of the two grinned at me. I could see what looked like pieces of buffalo wings stuck in his mustache, the ends of which had been dyed the telltale orange from the sauce.
“Hello, Mr. Casey,” I said, my own grin stretching wider and wider. I wasn’t sure if he’d recognize me, but Pop always told great stories about these two and had been close friends with them during their younger days.
Joseph made a big show of looking around him.
“Mr. Casey? I don’t see my old man in here. Do you, Jimmy?”
His brother mimicked the motion. “Nope, last I heard, that mean old bastard died thirty years ago.”
“Dukey, who is this charming creature and why haven’t we met her before?”
Joseph made like he was going to kiss my hand, but Declan batted it away and covered my hand with his own.
“You know he doesn’t introduce women to the likes of us,” Jimmy hissed extra loud across the table for my benefit. “You know, because he’s embarrassed by us.”
I cracked another smile, and Declan just closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Guys, seriously,” he started but seemed to give up just as the complaint was on his lips. “Screw it. Jimmy, Joseph, this is Amelia Byrne.”
It took a solid moment for Jimmy to narrow his eyes at me and look back at Declan. “Jack’s kid?”
Declan thinned his lips, likely at the word kid, and nodded.
“No shit?” Joseph blurted out. “You’re Amelia? He’s not screwing with us?”
A laugh bubbled from my lips that I couldn’t contain and even Declan was giving a small, begrudging grin.
“In the flesh, Mr. Casey,” I said. “It’s been a few years. How are you two?”
“Right as rain now,” Joseph cooed, reaching for my hand again, only to be denied by Declan a second time. “Christ, but you got big. You’re grown! How old are you now? Twenty? Twenty-one?”
Loving this encounter more and more, I shook my head. “I’m twenty-five, according to the rumors.”
Jimmy’s mouth popped open. “No shit?”
Declan let out an audible sigh. “Language,” he ground out. “We’re not in the poker room, gentlemen.”
Joseph gave Declan a playful punch in the arm and guffawed, his laughter practically ricocheting around the room. “Since when has that ever stopped us?”
Joseph turned to me and continued, “We’re a rougher generation, you see.” He was whispering extra loud so Declan could hear. “We did a lot of things with our fists, we drank too much, we got a little loud. Declan and his brothers? Not as much. They’re too sophisticated.”
Declan actually rolled his eyes at his uncle’s jab. “That’s not true, Uncle Joseph,” he muttered.
But Uncle Joseph wasn’t finished yet. “If we had problems with other people in our neighborhoods, Patrick would send a few of us boys over there after confession on a Saturday night for a nice ‘talking to.’”
Jimmy chuckled, apparently reliving a few good memories at the thought. “Those were
the days,” he muttered, taking a swig of his beer seconds after the waitress sat it on the table.
“But now? They want to settle it all in the courtrooms with lawyers or in boardrooms with bankers and lawyers,” Joseph continued, pausing long enough to take a swig of his own beer. “I don’t get you young people with your bureaucracies and your social media.”
He said the last two words with such contempt, I imagined they must have stung coming out. I didn’t argue with him, only nodded in what I hoped was my most sympathetic way.
“How’s Jack doing, anyway?” Jimmy asked after returning from his little jaunt down memory lane. “Word around the poker group was that he hadn’t been feeling too good the past couple months.”
I swallowed hard and rubbed my nose with my hand to stop any spontaneous bursts of emotion that might sneak up on me. I didn’t exactly feel like crying, but lately, after Pop’s diagnosis, tears sort of sprung up on their own.
“Umm,” I began, wondering what the hell to say. The word was out now, and I was sure Pop wouldn’t mind a couple of his old neighborhood friends knowing. At least, I hoped. “Not so good, I guess. We found out last week that he has early lung cancer.”
On cue, both men did the sign of the cross, and one muttered, “Oh, Christ,” while the other said, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” It was sweet.
“Lung cancer?” Jimmy nearly shouted. “I never saw Jack with a cigarette or cigar a day in my whole life. What kind of nonsense is that?”
I happened to look up at Declan at the moment and was startled by the look of concern in his eyes. He wasn’t just trying to look sympathetic, he genuinely looked like he was hurting for me.
“I know,” I said, trying to calm the two aging, raging Irishmen a little bit before the staff had to kick us out. “They said they caught it early enough and he’s going to have surgery sometime next month. He should be good. They’ll keep an eye on it from here on out, but he should be good.”
I didn’t mention all the other concerns. Mainly, that my parents were struggling with how to pay for the surgery, even after Pop’s deductible and coverage kicked in. But that was a private matter for us to discuss as a family.
“You tell Jack to come see us if he needs anything,” Jimmy said, his big, warm hand on my shoulder giving me a gentle squeeze. “Anything at all, Amelia. We mean it. We’re a couple of simple old bachelors, but Jack would give us the shirt off his back, and we’d do the same for him. You tell him to give us a call, will you?”
I promised that I would and smiled as they threw a couple bills on the table for their drinks, making their farewells to Declan and me.
“We meant to come over here and embarrass our nephew on a date,” Jimmy confessed as he gave Declan a giant man hug. “But, Jesus. Now we just want to go to Morty’s and drink ourselves silly for Jack’s sake.”
I wasn’t exactly sure how that would help Pop or if he’d even want that, but whatever. They probably needed to feel like they were doing something, a feeling I could relate to well enough. When they were gone, Declan took both of my hands in his and pulled them across the table toward him. I sucked in a breath at the contact and the intensity in his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your dad?”
I gave a nervous laugh that was precariously close to a sob. I took a deep breath and deflected with a joke. “Well, we hadn’t been here very long, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to poke fun at a man like you and your dismal choice in salads. I’m sure it would have come up sooner or later, as it’s part of the reason I came back to Boston for a few weeks.”
He gave me a little smile, clearly seeing through my attempt at humor. “I’m sorry, Amelia, I can’t tell you how much.”
I knew his father died a few years back suddenly and unexpectedly, though I wasn’t sure how close they were. Patrick Casey was a hard man and probably wasn’t the most doting father.
Still, losing a father must leave a hole in you that could never be filled.
“Thank you,” I said, the emotions choking up my throat a little bit, forcing me to take a gulp of water as the waitress brought our entrees. I was grateful for the interruption.
“It’s going to be fine,” I said as I settled my napkin back in my lap. “Seriously, Pop’s going to have the surgery and bounce right back.”
My voice was chipper, but I wasn’t sure the enthusiasm quite reached my eyes. Hopefully, Declan wasn’t paying too close attention to spot my lie.
After a round of chocolate cake that was pretty much to die for, Declan paid the bill and we were back at the front of the elegant establishment, shrugging into our jackets. Outside, I gave him a genuine smile, feeling incredibly warm from the wine and the easy conversation once the hard topics like my father were out of the way. I’d assumed with his money and no-nonsense persona he’d be as dry as a plain cracker — or a dry salad — but Declan surprised me just enough that I was intrigued by him and a little sorry to see our dinner end.
“Well…” I was suddenly uncomfortable, unsure how to end things with the man I’d known for so long but hardly knew at all. I glanced down the direction I was about to head. “Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it, as well as seeing your uncles again. Any more Caseys hiding around here I should know about? That’s three family members in so many days.”
I was joking with him, but the face Declan made was pretty clear — his family probably drove him a little crazy. Kind of like my own did.
“I have a car waiting this way,” he said, gently grabbing my elbow as I started to move down the sidewalk.
“I’m okay, seriously,” I protested, but didn’t really fight too hard to get away from his touch. It was too good. Even after all these years, he still affected me in a way I couldn’t explain.
“I’m serious too,” Declan said, a smile playing on his lips. “I’ll be seriously offended if you prefer to walk home to South Boston in the dark because you don’t want to ride with me.”
Swallowing a lump, I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of walking home alone, but I also didn’t want to appear needy or weak. And I didn’t know how I’d handle the close proximity of being in an enclosed space with this man. With his scent. His heat. The magnetic presence that kept pulling me in his direction.
“Please, Amelia…” From the look on his face and the intensity in his voice, I knew the powerful man in front of me wasn’t used to saying please often, or at all. “Let me see you safely to your front door. That’s all.”
A quick flash of disappointment shot through me, surprising me. I wanted him to do more than just see me safely home and then leave, I realized, embarrassed at how badly I wanted it. I really needed to get a grip. I wasn’t the schoolgirl of years ago. I was fully an adult. I could make wise decisions even in the midst of the inner turmoil between my pride and my raging hormones.
I smiled, lifting my chin. “Thank you. I accept the offer.”
He stepped closer, extending a hand. My breath caught in my lungs as I placed mine in his. We stood there, almost frozen for a moment, and I wondered if he felt the electricity surging between us too.
We were only inches apart, and he leaned forward, his hand tightening on mine. “Amelia…” he whispered, “I—”
A truck horn blasted from down the street, and we both jumped, the small bubble of intimacy that had been surrounding us pierced by the sound.
He stepped back, blew out a breath, and led me to a dark sedan waiting by the curb. A driver dressed from head to toe in black jumped out and opened a door. Once inside, I pressed shaky fingers to my temples for the few seconds it took for Declan to slide in on the other side.
He’d almost kissed me. The moment I’d longed for so many years ago had been a heartbeat away from becoming reality.
Damn truck.
Or maybe the truck had been divine intervention.
The silence between us was heavy, and I was unsure how to break it. I was searching for a topic of conversation when
Declan’s warm hand covered mine.
My stupid pulse was pounding so hard I was certain Declan could feel it, but he just looked out the window beside him, holding my hand like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.
I frowned at my own sappiness. The sooner I got safely away from Declan Casey, the better. I wasn’t sure I could stand another hour inside my own head as long as he was nearby. I was turning right back into that sappy little girl who wanted nothing more than to be showered with his attention.
And I swore I wasn’t that girl anymore.
His thumb traced a mindless pattern inside my palm, and my eyelids fluttered closed at the sensation.
Who was I kidding? I so was still that girl.
Before I knew it, the car was pulled to a stop in front of my parents’ walk-up, and I moved to grab the handle, but Declan stopped me.
“Thanks—” I began, but he had his door open and was gone before I could finish. Seconds later, he was opening my door and offering his hand to help me out.
Holy cow. The man was so well-mannered it was almost cliché. Except he looked too damn good to be cliché, and his Prince Charming act was short-circuiting my logical brain.
Declan tucked my arm into his as he walked me to the stairs that led up to the door. With each step closer, a bubble of adrenaline shot through me as I wondered if I was about to be disappointed with the ending of this date.
It didn’t take long to discover that I wouldn’t be.
Before I could mumble some awkward goodbye, Declan had both of my hands in his and was gently tugging me forward. My mouth opened in surprise as his warm lips pressed against mine, his hand closing around the back of my neck.
The kiss was exploratory and soft, but it was also all-consuming and heady. I didn’t mean to let out a little moan of pleasure, but I did. And if I hadn’t been so focused on the feel of his tongue sliding against mine, of his demanding lips on mine, I probably would have been embarrassed. But no, I was into this kiss way more than was rational.
Claiming Amelia Page 7