Seamus
Later That Day
Agloomseemstocling to everything.
Winter in the Pacific Northwest never pretends to be anything else.
It’s late afternoon and the rain’s been coming down steady since morning. It’s more mist now than anything—a constant silver veil draped across the windshield of Marcella’s sleek black Audi as we wind down I-5 toward Tacoma.
As the city gives way to trees and highway blur, inside the car it’s quiet. Not quite peaceful, though. Marcella grips the steering wheel like she’s bracing for brutal cross-examination. Her stormy, hazel eyes are focused straight ahead and her face is frozen in deep concentration. I doubt she even notices me watching her.
She hasn’t said much since we left her condo. A few offhand comments about traffic and weather. The silence wouldn’t bug me if we hadn’t spent so many days and nights talking and laughing nonstop in between fucking each other raw.
I mean—my cock has practically taken up residence inside her. I’ve watched her fall apart with my name on her lips more times than I can count. Every night I’ve fallen asleep with her magnificent tits pressed against my chest and her arm banded around my waist like she can’t bear not to touch me.
I’m not sure why she’s suddenly acting like we’re strangers carpooling to a dentist appointment. Then again, I’m not an expert at this boyfriend thing, so…
I’m half-waiting for the moment she tells me this has all been a mistake.
Fuck it. The vibe is driving me batshit. I shift in my seat, drumming my fingers on my thigh. “Are you okay?”
“Yep. Fine.” She glances over at me quickly before fixing her eyes on the road again.
Immediately I realize the trap I’ve fallen into. A classic one-syllable female landmine. I may not be relationship guy, but I’ve worked with many women colleagues. Walked down too many metaphorical hallways with warning signs painted on the walls.
I know better. Still. I clear my throat and try harder. “You’ve been unusually quiet.”
“I’m thinking about something I hadn’t considered.” Marcella exhales, long and slow.
Oh, holy hell. Talk about vague. “I have zero clue what you’re going to say next. I’ll bite. What haven’t you considered?”
“Um…” Another pause. Then, without looking at me, she asks, “You mentioned we don’t need to have labels, but things have…um, changed since the last time you saw my parents. You’ve not met my brother and sister before. So… how do you want me to introduce you?”
Nope. Wouldn’t have guessed. In fact, it’s pretty much the last thing I thought she’d say. “What?”
“When we go in.” She stares straight ahead. “How should I introduce you?”
I try not to laugh. “Um…Seamus McGloughlin, yourboyfriend?”
“I truly wasn’t fishing.” She glances over at me nervously, then back at the road. “I mean, no. God. I don’t know. I mean—I didn’t want to assume.”
Okay. There it is.
I stare at her profile—sharp cheekbones, soft lips, hair pulled back in a low twist, somehow both severe and sexy. She’s beautiful, brilliant, and utterly maddening. I fight the urge to say something flippant because she’s not mad…she’s worried.
“Why wouldn’t you fish? It’s worth talking about unless you’re worried about how your family will react.” I place my hand on her knee. “To the nine-years-younger boy-toy situation…”
“Eight,” she corrects automatically. “Well…yeah. Although, I’m getting the better end of the deal.”
“Okay, then what’s the problem?” It’s time to nip all of this in the bud. We’re together. If people don’t like it, fuck ’em. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I wasn’t sure about labels. Mainly I didn’t want to spook you with the intensity of where my head’s at. I never thought we wouldn’t tell our families, Marcella. We’re together. I don’t want us to be a secret.”
She pulls into the lot behind the restaurant and parks. Her hands rest on the wheel, knuckles white.
“I don’t want to hide you either, Seamus,” she says quietly. “I’m not bringing this topic up to diminish what we’re becoming to each other…it’s fast. Complicated. The truth is, I’m older and people are going to gossip. Also, you’re in the middle of your residency. Caldwell’s still your boss. You’ve just been through hell with the case. I’m trying to be practical.”
“If practical doesn’t mean honest, it’s not worth it to me,” I counter. “I want you. I wantthis. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
She finally turns to face me fully, her expression softening. “I know. I do too. I’m scared, though. We’ve been in our bubble. When we’re out in the world, I’m gonna worry what people think.”
