Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,80
in my stomach. Movement at the house he had gone into has me turning, and I bite my jaw to stop the smile of relief that fills me as Shay half runs toward the car. He ducks his head to take a good look at me, and my stomach twists for a completely different reason. He’s even more breathtaking without the beard. I didn’t think that would be possible, but he makes it impossible for me to think straight. He could have been a model, and he would be filthy rich.
He pulls the door handle, and when the door doesn’t open, he glares at me. “Emma.” The warning has me staring at him. He thinks I’ve locked him out.
I grin.
He doesn’t smile back, and I lean across and unlock his door. His smell circles me the moment he gets in the car. The car still hums under us, but Shay doesn’t drive.
I’m ready to ask what’s wrong when he pulls away from the curb and we are moving. It feels stupid now to go for food when we were targets. I steal several glances at Shay, but he doesn’t look at me. His jaw is tight; he’s aware I keep looking at him.
My skin is tight and itchy, and I want to break the silence that is growing and emptying out all the oxygen from the car.
“This place serves nice food.”
It’s like a balloon pops, and the oxygen pours back into the car as he speaks. I duck down to see the small one-story building that’s been plopped in the middle of nowhere. The thatch roof resembles buildings that are sprinkled across the Galways landscape. I didn’t think we would find this kind of structure up north.
“I like it.” I like the cottage look, from the white walls to the red window sills that support flower boxes.
“Not many eat here.” Shay continues as he drives around the back. He’s right. Only three cars are in the large car park. He doesn’t linger; the minute he parks and kills the ignition, he’s out of the car.
The air is cold, and I’m glad for my hat and coat as we walk across the car park. At the back door, Shay holds it open for me—like a gentleman. I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips. My stomach twists when I look up to find him watching me.
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
His manners surprise me as we walk into the small restaurant. It’s dark inside with its low windows and sporadic lighting, but I already like it. I tug off my hat and push curls out of my eyes as I take in the quaint restaurant.
A tall man, whose head is held high, comes through a set of swinging doors that would be better suited to a western.
His eyes light up in surprise when he sees Shay. “Mr. O’Reagan. We didn’t know you would be here today.”
Shay shrugs out of his jacket, and the tall man takes it from Shay. Two caterpillar-like eyebrows sit above his blue eyes, making his gaze heavy. He holds out his arm, and I realize he’s waiting for my jacket. I quickly take it off and hand it to him along with my hat.
“Thank you.”
He gives me a tight smile before walking to a large table in the center of the restaurant. I sit down when he pulls out a chair for me.
“The usual?” The waiter asks Shay.
“You can make that for two, Leo.”
The waiter leaves. “I’m not sure how I feel that you ordered for me, too.” I take another peek around the restaurant. No one else is here. The cars must belong to the staff. That isn’t exactly a good sign about the quality of the food.
“You’ll like it.”
I return my focus to Shay. He appears relaxed in a way I haven’t seen him before.
I lean in closer, not wanting to be rude. “The fact the place is empty doesn’t give me much hope for nice food.”
Shay grins. He doesn’t get to respond as a woman in her forties, early fifties, bustles up to the table. She doesn’t speak, just pulls Shay into a half hug. He gets out of his seat, and his smile is lighting up the room. I feel like I’m intruding on a very private moment, but I can’t look away.
“Marta. Leo looks great. You’re feeding him well.”
Marta’s giggle is odd; it’s like a teenage girl. “You look good without the beard. Leo said you had female company.” She releases Shay, and