Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (105)

Plus she’s also just given him a six-pack of beer.

“It’s from my brother-in-law’s craft brewery. Buckeye Brewery pale ale,” she says as she passes him one of the glass bottles. “An apology for drugging you with muffins.”

Leander smiles as he motions to the other bottles in a bid for us to take one. “Don’t apologize. I like to be surprised.” He reads the label with an appreciative nod and pops the cap. “Speaking of surprises, I never thought I’d see the day, but Lachlan Kane is officially retired. That deserves a toast.”

Lark passes me a beer and grabs one for herself. When they’re open, we raise our bottles in the air.

“To you, Lark, for sorting out this asshole.”

“Asshat,” she says.

“Yeah, somehow that works better. Asshat,” Leander says with a sage nod. “To me, for finding these Kane boys and taking them home. Best decision I ever made was not killing them.”

I roll my eyes and Leander laughs before he gives me a slap to the shoulder. But the teasing light in his grin fades to something that seems real, at least as much as a man like Leander Mayes can manage. “And to you, Lachlan. You raised those boys and started your business and managed to somehow find the perfect wife despite being an asshat. You’ve done good. I’m going to miss you around here, kid.”

I nod, an unexpected pang of gratitude and nostalgia hitting my chest as I raise my bottle. “Sláinte.”

We clink the necks of our bottles and take a long sip of the honey-brown liquid.

“So,” Leander says after downing a third of his beer. “What’s your first plan for retirement, Lachlan? Gonna take up gardening, maybe? Throw pickles at neighborhood children and yell at them to get off your lawn?”

I grin and drape an arm across the couch behind Lark as I settle into my seat. “We’re going away for the weekend.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Cape Cod,” Lark says at the same time as I tell him it’s none of his business.

“Don’t even think about showing up there asking me to do some batshit-crazy job.” I shake my head as Leander gives me a devious grin before he takes another long pull from his bottle. “I am retired.”

Leander waves me off and sways a little on his seat as he turns his attention to Lark. “Speaking of jobs, got anything new lined up for me yet?”

A smile sneaks across Lark’s lips as Leander sets his beer down on the coffee table and gives the bottle a long, befuddled look. “Maybe let’s talk about it after you have a little nap.”

“Ahh shhhhit.”

Leander’s body swings in an unsteady circle before he passes out in a heap on the floor. We stare down at him where he lies crumpled between the sofa and the coffee table, a gentle snore already rumbling from his throat.

“Lark …”

“Hmm?”

“Didn’t we have a talk about this …?”

“I don’t think so, no,” she says. She rises from the couch and dusts off her jeans before flashing me a brilliant smile. “Not that I recall.”

“That’s funny. Because I remember saying something about letting me know before you drugged my feckin’ psycho boss next time,” I say as I stand and fold my arms across my chest. “He looks pretty drugged to me, duchess.”

“You told me to let you know if I gave him drugged muffins. I gave him drugged beer.”

I shake my head. But any attempt I have at stoicism falters as Lark approaches.

She folds her hands around my wrists. I drop my arms at her command and let her close in on me, her eyes fused to my lips. “Take me home,” Lark says as she rises on her tiptoes. One of her hands wraps around the back of my neck to draw my lips close to hers. “Since you’re officially retired, I think we should celebrate.”

My hand threads into Lark’s hair. I breathe in her scent of sweet citrus and let my lips graze hers when I whisper, “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I can’t tell you that. It would ruin the surprise.”

Lark presses her lips to mine. My tongue sweeps across hers and I pull her closer, deepening the kiss. I’m carried away by my insatiable need for her that only grows more intense with each day that passes. I forget where I am and the world that spins around us as I lift her in my arms.

At least until Leander snorts a rumbling snore on the floor.

I set Lark on her feet with a disappointed sigh. “Christ Jesus. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Deal,” she says. She presses a kiss to my cheek before she steps away. With a devious little grin, Lark shrugs on her jacket and grabs my hand.

We leave Leander untouched as we head upstairs and out the door. A message dings on my phone as we slide into the Charger, a text from Rowan. I start up the car and let it warm up as I tap out a reply. I feel Lark’s eyes on me as I pocket my phone and shift the car into drive.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, just Rowan asking about Christmas morning, if we want to do their place or ours.”

“Maybe ours for Bentley, since he’s still feeling sorry for himself. He’s really milking this ‘injured savior’ bit.” Lark fiddles with the hem of her jacket, unspoken words hanging in the air. “Do you think Fionn will come?”