Page 38 of Dangerously
“Shit, no, c’mon, munchkin girl.” Declan uses every napkin on the table to sop up the spilled milk. I am fifty-percent amused and fifty-percent annoyed. On the run with a toddler is going to be a fucking challenge.
“She’s a handful, huh?” I pick up a rolled oat and pop it into my mouth.
“Sometimes, I would rather take on fifty guys with machine guns than fight with her to eat. Or sleep. Or change. Or anything.” He rubs his eyes, clearly exhausted. “They didn’t have beignets, so I got jelly donuts instead.” He pushes the plate in front of him in my direction with a cocky little smirk. “And coffee. Extra cream and sugar.”
I glare at Declan as Aisling makes a racket banging the spoon against the table.
“Why are you giving me the death stare?” He grabs her hand to stop the irritating noise.
“Let’s just be clear. Whatever happened in the past stays in the past. There’s nothing going on here.” I pass my index finger between us. “I’m going to help you get Aisling out of the country. And then help you take care of Ronan, and then we will go our separate ways. Got it? All this is strictly business.”
“Fine.” He sounds a tad defensive. But I really don’t care. I want to be clear. I want to draw the line in the sand now. “Does that go for common courtesy as well?”
“No, we can be civil. But no more kissing. Or trying to butter me up with memories of the past.”
“Fine.” He puts his tattooed hands up in surrender. “But you can't say those beignets weren’t some of the best things you’ve ever put in your mouth.” He pops his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, the fried dough was amazing.”
Declan rolls up a napkin and throws it at me. “I remember you being more fun.”
“Circumstances were different. We weren’t running for our lives. And speaking of that. What exactly was your master plan? Where do you want to take her?” I glance over at Aisling, and she gives me a devilish little smile. Her tiny chiclet teeth showing.
“I have a cousin in Scotland. No one knows about her. We were close growing up in Ireland. She went to university in Edinburgh around the same time I left for America. She ended up marrying some Scottish businessman and never went home. I know she’ll take her.” He seems confident.
“So, are you just going to show up on her doorstep? Or have you reached out?”
“No, I'm just going to show up. It’ll be safer if no one knows we’re coming.”
“I agree, but what if she won’t take her?”
“She will. Besides, it will only be temporary. I plan on raising my girl. She may grow up with a funny accent, but at least she'll be safe. And we’ll be together.”
“Which accent are you referring to? English, Irish, or Scottish?”
“All of the above.” He laughs.
“Okay.” I agree, as Aisling chants, “Da, Da, Da,” while hitting the table. It’s getting annoying. “March said it will take a few weeks to get the new identities, so we’ll just have to lay low. He’s finding us a place to stay. Make a list of what you need. He’ll drop off a care package.”
“Sounds like a plan. Diapers are first on the list. I’m going to have to use my shirt pretty soon if we don’t get some.”
“I’m starting to see a pattern. No shoes, no shirt. Soon, you’ll just be running around naked.” I take a sip of lukewarm coffee.
“Wouldn't be a bother for me. I seem to recall how much you enjoyed me in my birthday suit.”
“Yes, well, now I'm enjoying you fully clothed. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Fine, party pooper.”
“Speaking of poop.” I hear Aisling making a strange noise. Her little cheeks are super pink, and she looks as if she’s thinking really hard.
“Shite,” Declan curses.
“You called it. Maybe your shirt is coming off after all.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave my shirt to a lady.”
I curl my lip, recalling how I lived in Declan’s T-shirt while we were together in New Orleans. It was soft and oversized and lingered with the scent of his masculinity.
