He offers me a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t mind me. I’m a moody fucker.”
“I’ve noticed,” I deadpan, even though I know he’s deflecting. “At least you’re self-aware. There’s a lot to be said for that.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware of all my failings,” he cryptically replies. My brow puckers as I watch him unpack a red-and-black-plaid blanket and some food and drink from his bag. Muscles flex and roll in his shoulders and back as he lays the blanket out flat on the rock, and I get the sense he’s silently berating himself for something. “Come sit.” He pats the blanket. “I promise it’s safe.” He sits down first, his long legs dangling off the edge.
Cautiously, I sit down beside him, ignoring the rapid pounding of my heart.
“I’ve got chicken, tuna, or ham,” he says, opening a Tupperware box.
They all look delicious, made with a variety of different breads, filled with various lettuce and dressings.
“This is delicious,” I say, after I’ve devoured a chicken sandwich and a tuna one. “What deli did you get it from?”
He smirks, and I’m glad to see the previous strained look is gone from his face. “Deli O’Donoghue.”
My eyes pop wide. “You made these?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I have many talents.” He waves his hands in front of my face. “These hands are very skilled.” His tone and expression are suggestive in the extreme, and a lick of arousal flows through my veins.
“They’ve had enough practice, I’m sure,” I murmur.
He brushes a few stray strands of hair off my brow. “Does my history with women turn you off?”
Do I like thinking of him with other girls? No. And I really don’t like the whole Aoife situation. However, everyone has a past, and I don’t want to hold that against him and ruin things between us before they’ve even started. “A little, if I’m being honest. But you can’t change your past any more than I can change mine.”
“Would you want to?” He seems genuinely interested in my response.
“That’s the million-dollar question.” I stare out at the Irish Sea, wondering if I would change things even if I could. Tilting my head to the side, I stare at him. “If I could erase the last couple of years, I would, but before that, everything was perfect. In a lot of ways, it’s easier to cling to the hurtful stuff, to let my anger override my other emotions. It’s easier to forget about the good times, but there were lots of good times,” I quietly admit, absently rubbing crumbs off my thighs as I stare at my lap.
“What’s he like?” he asks, and I jerk my head up. “I’m guessing everything reported isn’t true.”
“It’s not. Reeve isn’t a bad person, and I know he loved me. I guess he just lost his way.”
“That sounds like polite bullshit.” He hands me a bottle of water.
“I need to believe he was manipulated and tricked into following the path he did, because the other reality is too hurtful.” I release a shaky breath. “If he knew what he was doing, it means he didn’t care that he hurt me, and that thought is unbearable.” Tears sting my eyes, and I wish I could rewind to ten minutes ago and not start this conversation.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.” Dillon circles his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in closer, and I rest my head against him. “I’m just trying to understand.”
“How much of a basket case I am?” I ask, half-laughing, half-crying.
“How badly he damaged your heart and whether there’s any hope for an impatient asshole like me.”
I lift my head and turn into him, draping my arms around his shoulders. “He hurt me, but I’m not some fragile broken doll you need to walk on eggshells around.”
He clasps my face in his hands. “I already know that, Viv. I just don’t want to rush you when you’re not ready. You’ll need to set the pace because the very last thing I want to do is hurt you too.”
“I think you’re a liar, Dillon O’Donoghue.”
All the blood drains from his face, and his Adam’s apple jumps in his throat.
Easing back, I inspect his face closely, wondering why my words have evoked such a reaction. Maybe he’s realizing how vulnerable he’s made himself today, and he’s uncomfortable. That must be it. “Remember, we’re going to be scared together.” The panicked look on his face dials down as I lean in, kissing one corner of his delectable mouth. “You wave that asshole flag around, wearing it with pride, but I’m onto you.” I playfully tweak his nose, softly smiling. “You do it to keep people away. To stop yourself from feeling. I recognize the signs, so don’t try to deny it. But it’s not who you are. Underneath that fa?ade hides a different man. One I really want to get to know.”