Wet

Ma peeks again and then turns back to us. “He got up and left the room. Paulie, go ask if she’d like a spot of tea or some coffee. I don’t think she should have a toddy since she’ll be driving.”

“Sure thing, Ma.”

“Hey, Elle,” I say as casually as possible as I approach the table.

She sits up straight and pulls her shoulders back when she sees me.

“Hi Paulie.”

“So where’s Patrick? Did you scare him off with your dirty mouth?”

She gives me a stern look and shakes her head before glancing toward the kitchen door that’s still closed.

“He got an emergency text from a client, so he excused himself to email them some documents.”

“That’s Patrick!” I say with a grin.

“He’ll be back very soon.”

“Sure he will.”

I pull out Patrick’s chair and flip it around before I straddle it and sit, resting my arms across the back of the chair.

She turns to study me, her expression full of apprehension.

I lean as close to her as I can without tipping the chair over.

“So what’s with the get-up?” I ask with a low voice.

She shrugs. “Whatever do you mean?”

I wave my hand over her outfit. “The librarian get-up. It’s so . . . unexpected.”

She looks away but I notice the corners of her mouth turn up. “I guess I’m just full of surprises.”

“And you bake pie from scratch, and can charm the pants of my parents with a single smile.”

“All good things, I’d say.”

“I guess so. But where’s Vamp Elle? Where’s she hiding?” I lift the edge of her long skirt up a bit and pretend to peek underneath. “Is she hiding under this gra

She slaps my hand away.

“You think you know me so well.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, librarians are hot. I slept with one once who was smoking.”

“Is this during the man-whore days?”

I nod. “She talked a lot while we screwed, and she had a dirty mouth like you except she used a lot of big fancy words, too.”

“Is that so? Is this supposed to be of interest to me?”

She crosses her legs and when she does her skirt slides up and I swear I see a hint of a garter holding up her stocking.

Oh damn, does she know that garters and stockings are my weakness?

My voice breaks a little when I lean toward her even closer. “Why are you messing with me, Elle?”

She folds her arms over her chest. “How am I messing with you?”

“My brother? Really?” My fingers tighten over the top of the chair. “Do you honestly think he’s going to give you the hot sex you’re searching for?”

“Looks can be deceiving, you know.”

“Well tonight, that line certainly applies to you, but Patrick is pretty much a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy.”

“I’ll find that out for myself, thank you.”

I lean back and grind my teeth. “Why are you trying to make me jealous? And not even over someone worth being jealous about?”

Her eyes widen. “Jealous? You don’t want me. Why would you care if he does?”

I growl with frustration. “Like it’s that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Next time you come over I won’t be here. It just messes with me being close to you.”

“How so?”

“I’m a man, Elle. Just because I’m trying to abstain doesn’t mean I don’t desire you.”

She bites her lip. “And being close to me stirs that up?”

“If I had my way right now, I’d push all of these dishes over, lift you up until your ass was on the table and then I’d have you for dessert.”

She swallows hard. “Dessert?”

“I bet you’d be extra sweet.”

Elle loops her index finger under the collar of her sweater and then pulls it away from her flushed skin.

“Please . . . stop. It’s cruel to tease me like this.”

“So I’m getting to you?”

I can hear her short breaths and her eyes look wild. “Paul,” she whispers.

I notice footsteps behind me.

“Paul, what are you doing?”

I look up to see Patrick sliding his cell phone back into his shirt pocket.

“Keeping Elle company.” I slowly lift myself off the chair and turn it back to face the table. “She was sitting out here all by her lonesome self and I felt bad about it.”

“Well, I’m back now,” Patrick says right as the rest of the family joins us with the pie and clean plates.

We all dig into what could be the best apple pie I’ve ever eaten. I’m even considering helping myself to a third piece when Elle a

Although I’m not sure what kind of meeting that is, it gives Elle a new dimension to think she has important work to attend to. I must be an ass because I’ve never asked about her job or career. How lousy is that?

Patrick, the gentleman, stands up to pull out her chair. He insists on walking her out to her car but first she has to have the royal McNeill send off. Ma gives her one of her crushing hugs, the kind where you end up buried in her bosom and unable to catch your breath. Thank God for the growth spurt that assured I’d never be victim of the ample bosom hug again. Elle isn’t so lucky and she gasps for a breath when Ma finally releases her.

She gets more of the same from Dad. “Hope to see you again soon, lass,” he says with a wink and nod to Patrick.

Trisha asks for Elle to email the pie recipe, which almost makes me laugh out loud. The day Trisha bakes a pie is the day I grow a tail—a spiked one at that.

I pull Elle into my arms next and hold her too long. “Thanks for coming, Eleanor,” I say softly and I run my hand along her back. Dad pries my arm away.

“She needs to get going, Paulie,” he states in a low voice.

She’s mine, I think silently.

Mine, I think as she steps away from me.

What am I doing? I shake my head to knock my possessive thoughts out of my head. She’s not mine and likely never will be.

Patrick helps her pull on her sweater and opens the door for Elle and I wonder if I would’ve done the same classy moves. He’s smitten for sure—it’s written all over his hopeful face. Maybe my parents think he deserves her. Surely he would treat her like a queen, and as for me, I bet Dad thinks I’d consume her with my insatiable sexual appetite until there was nothing left.

Patrick’s outside for a long time, so long I consider going out there to see what the hell’s happening. Ma keeps distracting me though with things like helping Trisha load the dishwasher and bringing in firewood from the back porch.

When Patrick stumbles back into the house his face is flushed.

“What’s up, dude?” I question.

“What do you mean?”

“You were out there forever, Paddy!” Trisha says.

“Was it that long?” he asks, pretending to be clueless, but he breaks out in a grin.

“Did you ask her out?” Dad asks looking hopeful.

Patrick’s taps his chin in thought. “No. Not yet. I will though.”

“Were you making out?” Trisha teases.

My stomach turns imagining his pokey tongue in her mouth.

“No! She just met me!” he says.

I fold my arms over my chest. “So what were you doing all that time?”

He pulls down his shirt cuff. “Giving her tax advice for her event management business.”

He looks pleased with himself like that’s sexy—like he’s scored big with her.

“That’s hot,” I say, nodding.

Dad shakes his head at me.

“What?” I ask with a shrug.

“I like that Patrick was showing her he cares about her business. That’s very gallant of you, my boy.”

“Gallant? Is that an Irish thing?” I wonder out loud.

“Shut up,” says Trisha.

“She’s really nice,” he says with a big grin.

“Nice?” I repeat.

“Yeah, nice.”

And very naughty, too.

I wait until the next night to call her.

“So you and Patrick, huh?”