Why was he looking at my legs?
“So, when can we go?”
This question drew my attention and I looked to Cillian.
“Go where, honey?”
“With you to Dove House,” he explained.
I blinked.
“That’d be cool,” Aisling said quietly. “And I’m sure they could use the help. We could go one day before school starts, while Dad’s at work.”
“I—”
Cillian spoke over me, doing this to declare, “I’m not cleanin’ up old people puke.”
Aisling looked to her brother. “You won’t have to. You can play checkers with them or something.”
“I can’t beat old people at checkers,” he returned. “That’d be mean and I’m a master checker player.”
“Then play something you’re bad at,” Aisling replied.
“Dude, I’m not bad at anything,” Cillian retorted with a cheeky, arrogant grin.
“Why do you wanna go?” Aisling asked.
“Because Amy is da bomb and I want some old lady to shout at me,” Cillian answered.
Aisling made a face that was not easy to behold.
But before I got a lock on why that was, she smoothed it and rebuked, “That isn’t cool, Cill. She’s not right in the head because she’s old. You shouldn’t go to a nursing home just to make fun of people.”
Cillian reared back in horrified affront. “I’m not gonna make fun of her. I reckon everyone looks at her like she’s crazy. She yells at me and calls me a Nazi, I’ll march around in that stupid way they did and make her feel not crazy.”
That was weird, but it was a weird kind of sweet.
“You go with Amy, you help Amy,” Mickey entered the conversation, his voice deep with fatherly authority. “She wants you to play checkers with the folks there, you play checkers…and lose. Or you do dishes. Or you do whatever she asks.”
Oh no, this couldn’t happen.
I liked Mickey’s kids. I liked being with them. I liked sitting at their table, chatting and eating. Even not getting along with Mickey, it felt nice to be a part of a family.
But the bottom line was that Mickey and I weren’t getting along so in order for this not to trouble Aisling, or eventually be communicated to Cillian, we should curtail our together-type activities.
Not make up more as we went along.
“Just to point out but I have a two-seater car,” I told them and looked to Mickey. “I can’t get them there.”
“I’ll drop ’em off,” he told me.
“I can’t get them back,” I replied desperately.
“I’ll pick ’em up,” he stated smoothly.
I glared.
He looked to my mouth and his got tight.
“Groovy!” Cillian cried and I forced myself to drop the glare and look at Mickey’s boy. “When can we go? Tomorrow?”
The next words I had to say I knew might kill me.
“I need to tell Dela you’re coming. She runs the place. So how about I talk to her and if she says it’s okay, then I’ll phone your dad and we’ll set a day before you go back to school.”
“Awesome!” Cillian exclaimed.
“Yeah, Amy, that’d be cool,” Aisling said softly, a small smile on her lips.
I took in her smile and just getting it, I’d put up with her father.
“Look forward to that call,” Mickey muttered, his meaning lost on everyone but me.
I shifted my legs in order to kick him in the shin.
His body jolted and his gaze cut to me.
I gave him a look I hoped was nasty.
He took it, something shifted behind his eyes, and he grinned at me.
Jerk.
I looked away.
“Can I have another piece of cake, Dad?” Cillian asked.
Mickey answered his boy, “Yeah, son.”
I looked to Aisling, who was looking between her father and me. Caught, she then cast her eyes to her plate.
“Dinner was amazing, blossom,” I told her softly.
She lifted her gaze to me briefly and mumbled, “Thanks, Amy.”
I watched her do this and thought that, yes, something about Aisling Donovan was troubling me.
Cillian got his extra piece of cake, everyone cleared and Mickey set his kids to washing up while I explained it was time to leave.
I got good-byes from the kids and unfortunately, Mickey decided to walk me to his front door.
“I can get there myself,” I said under my breath on the way.
“You can also get there with me,” he said under his.
I shut up.
We reached the door and I stopped, seeing my mistake immediately as I should have stopped to the side, not in front, or I should have just quickly opened the damned door myself.
This was so, knowing Mickey would characteristically take charge (I refused to think it was gentlemanly), I wouldn’t feel Mickey’s hard chest and lovely heat against my back as he reached beyond me to open the door.
Furthering my mistake, when the door swung open in front of me, I had to press back into him, something he rudely didn’t move out of my way to allow me room to do.
So when it was open, I made my escape.
I did this with Mickey noting softly, “Nice dress, Amy.”
I whirled on him and hissed quietly, “Don’t be a jerk.”
His eyes went dark. “Jesus, baby, it’s a nice fuckin’ dress. What’s your problem?”
“I’m sorry, you were being nice to me?” I asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, but now I see my mistake so, apologies, won’t happen again,” he answered shortly.
My heart was for some reason hammering in my chest, perhaps because maybe he was being nice and I hadn’t been and I felt stupid and petty.
But like I couldn’t stop it, to save face, I continued being so as I shook my hair, ordering, “See that it doesn’t.”
“Maybe you should date Stone,” he muttered. “Match made in heaven.”
I couldn’t believe he just said that.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” I snapped.
“Call ’em like I see ’em,” he declared.
That made me even more angry.
Angry enough to lean into him. “It’s you being mean that brings this out in me.”
He bent his neck deep, getting in my face.
“I told you ‘nice dress,’” he clipped. “Because it’s a nice dress. Looks good on you. If that’s mean, you definitely got a screw loose and have no clue how a man should treat you. Fuck, you like nasty, after I saw what your ex did to you, now I’m wondering what it took Infinity to get his tongue in your mouth. What? He tell you you looked like a whore?”