“Where’s Ian? He should’ve been here long before now.” Downing his drink, Derek signaled the bartender for another. “Most of the guests have come and gone already.”
Breanna glanced around the sitting room they were in. He was right. Only a few stragglers remained. She waved to Randall, here with his wife and kids, chatting up Jordy by the window.
“Relax, will you? I left him at the buffet with Francie maybe ten minutes ago.”
Randall came over, his family and Jordy in tow. He addressed Derek, “It looks like snow, so we’re going to get going, but I wanted to thank you and see how Miss Dalton’s feeling.”
“But I don’t wanna go yet, Daddy.” A little girl tugged at his arm. “It’s only a few snowflakes.”
Breanna closed her eyes. “And every storm starts with just one.”
“I’m fine, Randall.” She smiled. “Really.”
“No headaches?” He raised his brow.
“No headaches.”
“All right then.” Randall turned to Jordy. “You heading out?”
“In a few.” He patted his belly. “Need to digest a bit.”
And then they were the only ones left in the room. Breanna drained her watered-down drink and began sipping the one Derek had ordered for her. A wet nose nudged at her hand.
“Hera.” She giggled, petting the dog. “That tickles.”
She glanced up and, holding a plate in his hand, there he was.
Shorn at the sides, his wild locks were gone. Beard now short and neatly trimmed. A cream crewneck and black Armani replaced plaid flannel and jeans. But the whiskey eyes locked on hers were the same.
“It’s about time. Ian, get over here and say hello to Miss Dalton.” Derek wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders. “Breanna, this is my partner, Ian Maynard.”
“Pleasure.” He tipped his chin. Then, as if she was of no consequence to him, began speaking with Pamela.
What the fuck?
Tears rushed to fill her eyes. She couldn’t breathe. Breanna glanced at Jordy beside her. “That’s—”
With a subtle shake of his head, the sheriff squeezed her hand so hard it hurt.
That’s Sinjin.
Ian’s gaze locked on hers.
Sorry, princess.
He had to appear indifferent. To keep his fist from connecting with Derek’s jaw. To stop himself from bending Breanna over that bar, slipping her little silk panties to the side, and slamming his cock home. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed.
With a brief kiss on Pamela’s cheek, he leaned past her, waving the bartender over. “Bourbon, please. Neat.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t give me the cheap shit.” Nothing against Jim Beam. Normally he didn’t mind it, but not today. “Make it Van Winkle.”
“You got it,” the bartender said with an easy nod.
While Ian needed to keep his mind sharp, fortification was required to make it through this sham of a family dinner. He picked up the crystal Glencairn placed in front of him, and swirling the whiskey around the bowl, he sniffed it before raising the glass to his lips. Smooth and rich, he welcomed its nuanced flavor.
From the corner of his eye, he chanced a glance at Derek, stroking Breanna’s skin. Oblivious to his touch, her bewildered blue eyes turned to Jordy.
