Lachlan (Dangerous Doms #5) - Jane Henry Page 0,20
Tiernan with you. And you furthermore didn’t tell me how hot he got now that he’s all grown up and… hairy… and inked.”
I can tell he heard her by the way his lips twitch and he looks away, the way all the men of the Clan do to give you the illusion of privacy while they listen to every word and note every detail.
I snort. “First, since when is hairy sexy?”
“When he’s a bearded god of a man,” she moans.
“Jesus, get yourself a vibrator, woman,” I mutter. “Ew, that inked, hairy god of a man is my feckin’ brother. Tiernan met me at the airport, but believe me, he wants nothing to do with young folk like us.” I give him a teasing wink. “He’s got manly business to attend to.”
Her eyes rove over him, and for the first time in probably ever, I realize what he might look like to someone else. Tall and muscular, stern and unyielding, the very stance he takes imbued with latent power and strength. To me, he will always be my older brother, the one who’s looked out for me since the day I was born.
Though he’s only three and a half years my senior, it’s often felt as if he were much older, since he carried the weight of so much on his shoulders. At only sixteen years old, the men of the Clan welcomed him into the fold. He now stands as proud as any of them, trained in self-defense and the Irish martial arts, marked with McCarthy Clan ink.
Tiernan bends down and gives me another hug. “I’ll leave you two to do your… college thing,” he says with a grin. He winks at Aisling and to her utter horror, ruffles her fluffy blonde hair before he goes. “Check in, sis?” he says over his shoulder, and I know him well enough to know it isn’t a suggestion.
I cringe. “Oh, God, shut it, Ais. Still my brother.”
“Don’t I know it,” she says with a sigh. “But it seems last time I looked at him, he was all gangly and freckly, no? Now look at him, all… muscles and ink.”
“All the men of the Clan are muscles and ink,” I say, immediately wishing I hadn’t, as my own bloody words conjure up the image of mesmerizing hazel eyes, powerful inked arms, and a lopsided grin that would melt my knickers.
I cringe harder. “Can we please stop talking about my brother?”
Or any men of the Clan, my mind supplies.
Aisling and I have been friends since I first moved to Ballyhock, and her very presence brings a touch of solace to the homesick pain of my heart. She knows I’m associated with the Clan, but I don’t think she’s ever fully processed what that means. In her mind, as in the mind of so many residents of Ballyhock, they’re sort of superheroes.
She grabs my hand and leads me around the campus. The main campus is snug along the Charles River, large buildings and sprawling lawns with busy students and teachers buzzing about like bees. Even though my heart longs to be back in Ireland, my feet firmly planted in the lush green grass on the McCarthy family lawn, I look around me in wonder. I’ve never seen anything like this.
And for once—for once in my entire existence—I feel as if I’m part of something that’s really, truly mine.
“Don’t look now, Fiona,” Aisling says. “But there’s a man who’s been following you since you got here.”
I roll my eyes. “Probably my fucking guard.”
Her eyes widen. “Is it, then? Seriously? They came here with you?”
“Aye.”
She mulls this over for a moment. “Are they single?”
“Good lord, Ais, will you stop it? Can’t you meet a nice American to hand over your V-card?”
She playfully smacks my arm. “Why don’t you say that a little louder?”
I laugh, my heart feeling lighter than it has in days.
She shows me our room, and I drop my things off before she drags me to a little burger place off campus. I go to order a pint, and she rolls her eyes.
“Not in Ireland anymore, lass,” she says with a giggle. “You’re not legal here, remember?”
Bloody hell.
I sip my soda instead when my phone buzzes with a text. I glance at the screen, expecting a text from Sheena or Nolan or Tiernan, when my heart suddenly skips a beat.