Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I know I’m in danger.
I jump when the kettle whistles, indicating the water’s boiled, but my hands are immersed in hot, soapy water, as I’m washing up the dishes.
I drop a teacup on the tiled floor, and it shatters into shards. “Goodness,” I mutter to myself. “Now I’m jumping from the kettle. I shouldn’t be so easily spooked.”
Knock knock knock.
“Just a moment!” I yell, stifling a groan. I did very much like that little cup.
I grab a dish towel and wipe my hands dry, scurrying to peer though the peep hole.
My heart gives a rapid, stuttering leap.
Tully.
And he’s not alone.
Is that a woman with him?
I open the door, but as soon as I do, my manners flee. I stare, agape, at the woman beside him.
She looks just like me.
She stares, open-mouthed, back at me.
“Right, then,” Tully says briskly. “Perhaps we should move inside, eh?”
I blink and stutter, “Y-yes, yes, of course, come in.”
They both enter. I shut the door behind them, and Tully glares as he locks the deadbolt in place.
“Your fucking guard’s been in touch?”
“Aye, of course,” I say, already on the defensive just hearing him speak. Christ, but he’s arrogant. How can I crave a man as gruff and arrogant as him?
Crave him.
“Good,” he grunts, stomping into my flat with his heavy boots.
I open my mouth to speak, but find I’m tongue-tied. Why is he here, and why on earth has he brought a woman who looks just like me with him?
“McKenna, meet Mary. Mary, McKenna.”
“You said she looks like me,” the woman says. She doesn’t speak as if she’s from around here as she has a different accent. I can’t place it yet, though. “And my God, you weren’t lying.”
We both speak at the same time.
“You look…” she begins.
“I can’t believe…”
Tully chuckles. “Mary, McKenna’s a friend of mine,” he says. “Can we get a cuppa, lass?” He smiles, and I hate to admit what that does to my heart. When he smiles, his eyes crinkle a bit around the edges. “Seems your kettle’s ready anyway, eh?”
I blink, surprised that the kettle’s still squealing full throttle. I race to it and hit the off button, shaking my head. I go to pull out a few mugs but gasp when pain slices through my foot. I remember the broken mug too late.
“Shite,” I mumble. It hurts like hell, and I want to shake myself for being such an idiot.
“What is it?” Tully stands in the doorway, his brows knit in worry. I stifle a sigh. He’s hot when he’s worried, all intense and brooding, and I realize with a little jolt of shock that I want him to make it better.
“Forgot I broke a teacup when you rang,” I say, stepping gingerly to the side and grabbing a paper towel to dab at my foot. It quickly reddens.
“Jesus, McKenna,” he says, stepping right over the broken glass in his heavy, thick boots, and reaching for me. He lifts me straight off the floor and into his arms, crunching back over the glass to hoist me on the counter. “You have a first aid kit?”
“Aye, in the loo.”
Tully yells to Mary. “Mary, fetch us the first aid kit in the loo, will you?”
“Yes, of course. She okay?”
“Aye, just cut her foot is all.”
He frowns, holding the paper towel to my foot. “You need to pay attention.”
“I’m bleeding and in pain and now’s a good time to lecture me?” Honestly, this man.
He looks up at me in surprise. “I don’t like to see you hurt,” he says quietly. “Does it hurt?”
I swallow hard, a lump rising in my throat. He drives me crazy when he’s here, but I miss him so much when he isn’t. He bends, cradling my foot, and brushes his lips to the top of my foot, a gentle, tender kiss that’s so sweet my eyes water. I reach for him, running my finger through his wild salt and pepper hair.
“You’ll kiss it better?” I murmur.
He rises, trailing his hands up my sides until he reaches my waist. I shiver. “Wish I could kiss everything better,” he murmurs, before he bends and kisses me. I close my eyes, sighing into the kiss, when a plaintive “ahem,” comes from the doorway.
“Didn’t know you two were lovers,” Mary says, holding the little blue bag labeled first aid.
“We’re not,” I say at the very same time Tully says “Well, we are.”
He glares at me. I glare back.
I can’t be with a man of the clan. I can’t. It isn’t where I’m supposed to go, it isn’t what I’m supposed to do, but goddammit why can’t I get this infuriating man out of my mind?
He doctors up my foot and I try really hard to make sure that I don’t get all girly and flattered that he’s being so gentle.
Gentle isn’t in his vocabulary, I tell myself. Don’t fall for him.