Enemy Lovers (15 page)

Chapter Fourteen

“O'Grady?” her father said. “Any relation to the O'Gradys who live in Clare?”

“Yes,” Laura said.

The bell summoning everyone to take their seats pealed through the crowded function room.

“Why?” her mother demanded. “Why would you do this to us? Why couldn't you settle with James? It's what his parents want. It's what we want.”

“Laura and I are friends, and that's all we'll ever be to each other,” James said. “I have a live-in boyfriend, and I'm quite happy with the status quo. Come, Laura. I believe we're at table number ten.”

With a firm hand at her back, he ushered her over to their table.

“You didn't have to out yourself.”

“They're treating you like an irresponsible teenager. I've spent time with you, and you're a mature adult. You and Dallas are good together. The man loves you,” James said. “The time of arranged marriages is over, and both our parents need to back off and respect our wishes.” He pulled out a chair and seated her with calm competence.

“Thank you.”

“It's no problem. You've impressed Steven and me with the way you've found yourself work. I bet Steven you wouldn't last the distance, and I'm damn pleased to find myself on the wrong side of our wager.”

“Well,” Laura said. “I don't know whether to hug you or slap the grin off your face.”

“Steven likes my face,” James said. “He wouldn't be impressed if you tried to rearrange it.”

“A hug it is.” And despite the other people taking their seats at their table, she gave him a swift embrace.

Laura hadn't met any of their dinner companions, but James knew them and made introductions. For a business function it wasn't too bad, although the superficial conversation and her irritation with the social juggling highlighted the ways she'd changed.

“What do you do for a job?” the woman seated beside her asked.

“At the moment I'm doing temp office work. I also work in a pub part-time.”

“A pub?” The woman leaned away, reassessed Laura, and her smile slipped.

“Yes. I work in the kitchens. It's fun.” Yep, and the woman's smile dialed back even further. These people irked her with their attempts to classify her by her job and acquaintances. For James's sake, she piled on the charm. “What do you do?”

“Oh, I don't have a job. Why take employment when I don't have to?”

They ate melon appetizers while the band played background music.

James set down his spoon. “Would you like to dance?”

“Please.” She took James's arm and strolled with him to the small area set aside for dancing. Several other couples had the same idea.

“How do you put up with these people?” she whispered. “They have no idea about the real world.”

“I have Steven at home. He keeps me grounded.”

“Grounded,” she mused. “That's how I feel when I'm with Dallas. He makes me believe in myself and think anything is possible if I work hard enough.”

“He doesn't scoff at your ideas or views,” James added.

“No, he lets me be me.”

“I understand. Steven is…I love him.”

“I'm glad. Dallas says he loves me. I love him too, but I haven't told him.”

“Why not?” James stopped dancing. “Let's get some fresh air.”

“What about the business side of this shindig?”

James made a scoffing sound. “This is about appearances.” He led her to an inner courtyard, complete with fountain and myriad flowering plants. Laura breathed in the scent of the flora and let the oasis of peace flow through her and loosen the tension in her shoulders.

“I'm waiting for the why,” James said. “It's obvious Dallas is crazy about you.”

“I worry about the feud between our families. No matter how much we try to ignore both sides, we'll get hurled into the middle. It's starting already.”

“Do you truly love him? It's that simple.” James glanced at his watch. “We'd better go back in for our main course.”

“Do we have to?”

James laughed and ushered her back to the function room. Laura took her seat and searched out her parents, her brother. Her gaze connected with her mother's and the wealth of fury—the raised chin, the circles of vibrant color on her mother's cheeks, the flat line of her lips—spelled out the bare truth. What Laura had done was unforgiveable and she wasn't fit to bear the Drummond name. Seconds later, the visual confrontation was over, but it left Laura shaky, conflicted by the pull of emotions. She'd done it now—crossed the line into the enemy camp, and there was no going back.

The sting of rejection shredded her, prickled tears into her eyes. Knowing something like this would happen was different from experiencing it firsthand. Her hand trembled when she reached for her wine glass.

“I'm sorry, Laura,” James said.

She glanced up to find him watching her, his blue eyes full of sympathy. “It doesn't matter.” But her chest felt tight, and she had to force her words past the pocket of air that jammed her lungs.

James squeezed her hand, and his solid presence helped her get through the rest of the evening.

Later that night at the flat, Laura thought about James's words. Did she really love Dallas? She'd chosen him over her family, but did it equate to true love? The forever kind. Was it enough? She tossed and turned on the couch in the apartment above the pub, sleepless, her mind busy as she grappled with the answers and what she wanted for her future. Her thoughts kept circling around the same thing, and by six the next morning, she'd come to a decision.

“Are you sure you don't want to go up to the apartment and rest?” Laura asked.

Dallas scowled his objection. “No. I'm bloody tired of bed. I'm going to sit here at the bar, and when you take your break, we'll have lunch together.”

Laura raised her hands in surrender when she wanted to laugh at his sulky expression. “I missed you.”

“Same goes,” Dallas said, snagging her hand with his uninjured one. He drew her closer, and Laura dipped her head for a kiss.

“My god,” someone snapped from behind them. “It's true.”

They drew apart, both turning to face the newcomer.

“Aaron.” Laura stiffened. “What are you doing here? Dallas, do you know my brother, Aaron?”

Dallas gave a curt nod, and she sensed his tension coiling, his inner predator crouching, ready to explode into frenetic motion. She squeezed his hand in silent reassurance.

“You're an idiot,” Aaron snapped. “If you're trying to wind up Mother and Father, you've succeeded. Congratulations.” His rhythmic applause held distinct mockery.

“Is that what you've been trying to do?” Suspicion radiated from Dallas as his gaze traveled from her to Aaron and back.

“No, no, of course not.” Laura glared at her brother. “I don't play games. I never have, and I never will.”

“I have a message from Father. If you insist on continuing with this charade, you will not be welcome at home. You will
not
receive monetary help, not even if you come crawling back on your hands and knees.”

Laura froze, sucked in a gasp at the stark utterance still ringing through the air. Dallas slipped an arm around her waist, the silent support lending her spine. “They couldn't issue the ultimatum in person?”

“They wouldn't want to soil their shoes by entering O'Grady property,” Patrick said from the other side of the bar.

“I'll wait outside for five minutes,” Aaron said, giving her a hard look before stalking off.

Laura stared after her brother, anguish a hard punch to her chest. Even though she'd expected this too, facing reality stung. She took half a step and realized she was still holding Dallas's hand.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he said. “You're welcome to make your own choice.”

Fury pumped through her, and her hand flashed out before the thought even formed. The crack of her palm over his cheek reverberated in the pub, and the few customers who weren't already staring turned to check out the ruckus.

“Ow,”
Dallas said.

“Has that cleared the fog from your brain?” she demanded. “Or do you need another one to jog your mind into gear?”

Patrick let out a startled laugh, but she didn't shift her gaze off Dallas.

“I've made my choice and I don't intend to go anywhere,” Laura said. “If you've changed your mind and don't want me, tell me now. My family irritates the crap out of me, but I'd prefer not to be shunned if you're having second thoughts. Do you want me or do I go home?”

“I want you.”

“Then stop acting the idiot and start using your brain. I'm giving up a lot for you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Her voice rose until it neared a screech. “Idiot! Because I like you. You give me so much. Acceptance. Security. Independence. Friendship. Love.”

His eyes tracked her hands as she waved them in emphasis. He was quiet for a few beats longer. “What about your belongings at your parents'?”

“The important stuff is right here.”

His face softened. “Sorry, I've had too much time alone to think. I do love you.”

“Good,” Laura said, and she sidled closer, stealing a kiss.

“If you two are gonna get mushy, you'll have to move upstairs. Our pub license doesn't cover that sort of thing,” Patrick said.

Dallas's cell phone rang, and he checked the screen. “It's Ma. I'll ring her back once I get to the apartment.”

“Looks as if Quinn carried out his threat,” Patrick said. “Do you want me to talk to her? Tell her not to worry.”

“Nah, I'll do it,” Dallas said.

“I'd better get to the kitchen to help with the prep work. See you in an hour.” And with a wave Laura headed for the kitchen.

“Okay, how are you? The truth.” Patrick asked once Laura had disappeared.

“My arm hurts like a bitch.” Dallas stared after Laura, not reassured, despite her certainty. What would happen six months down the track when it was her birthday or another special occasion? “And now my face hurts too.”

“Take some painkillers.”

“They make me sleepy, and I wake up with a cotton candy brain.”

Patrick poured a beer for one of their regulars before returning to Dallas. “I thought that was the idea, to rest and heal. What are you going to tell Ma?”

“The truth.”

“Which is?”

“You have customers to serve.”

“Lounging around in hospital hasn't helped your temperament.”

Dallas scowled into his cup of coffee. The time in hospital had given him hours to think, to worry, and Quinn's harsh laying down of the law hadn't helped. Laura was young, and he kept thinking about Maria. Her cheating, and the way she'd always twisted everything and made it seem as if he were at fault. She'd said he'd demanded too much from her and his high expectations were crippling to her emotions.

What if he was pushing Laura and she grew to resent him? For them—because of their families—there would be no second chances. There was too much ill-will between the O'Gradys and the Drummonds.

“Dallas.”

Dallas glanced up to see Quinn. “What do you want?”

His brother's gaze zeroed in on his face, picked past his impassive mask and left Dallas feeling naked.

Quinn held his hands up in a passive greeting. “I came to see how you are. You shouldn't be at work.”

“I told him that,” Patrick said. “He's stubborn. Takes after you.”

“Ma said you're not answering your phone.”

“I'll ring her later.” Dallas shifted on the bar stool and winced at the arrow of pain down his ribs. Hell, every muscle in his body sang like an angry rocker while violins creaked and sawed across his brain. He inched up with ginger moves, muscles tense to help cushion the torture. “Maybe I'll go back to the house.”

“I'll drive you,” Quinn said, his tone brooking no argument.

Dallas had intended to drive himself but gave way. No way in hell would he manage the trip on his own. “Thanks.” Quinn probably intended to lecture him for the entire journey. “Patrick, Quinn's driving me back to my place. Can you tell Laura?”

Patrick nodded. “I'll tell her. Here are your pills. Make sure you take them and get some rest.”

Quinn scooped up the prescription bottles. “I'll make sure he takes them.”

Dallas collapsed into the passenger seat of Quinn's car with a loud groan and breathed slow and deep. Bed was looking better with every passing second.

Quinn pulled up outside Dallas's house. “Are the ribs giving you grief?”

“A bit.” An understatement. “What did Dad and Ma say?”

Dallas handed over his house keys and shuffled inside once Quinn had opened the door.

“They want to talk to you,” Quinn said.

“Yeah.” Dallas gave a tired sigh and even that hurt. “But what did they think? You might as well tell me.”

Quinn stalked to the window and peered out at the rear garden. “They asked if you were happy.”

“And?” Prying information from his brother was like trying to brew whiskey from tap water.

“They're reserving judgment until they speak with you and meet the girl.”

“Laura. She has a name.” His parents' reaction didn't surprise him. “I'll talk to them now. Dial for me.”

“Ma, it's Dallas,” Dallas said, accepting the phone from Quinn.

“How are you? Quinn said you've been in the wars.”

“I'm okay. Ma, I love Laura.” No point pussyfooting around the Drummond in the room.

“Son, are you sure she loves you?”

Dallas thought about the slap he'd received earlier, and he grinned until the pull on his mouth hurt his split lip. She mightn't have told him she loved him, but she cared a whole lot. “I'm positive.”