set up for their grandchildren and rejoin the adult party.
“Where’d you disappear to?” Liam asked, never taking his eyes off the football
game.
Sam flopped down next to Liam and Brian. “Barbie and Ken were getting
married.”
Brian shifted his sleeping infant son to his other shoulder. “Lily got to you, huh?”
“I didn’t mind.”
Liam’s dad entered, plopping into the ancient recliner that his wife hated but that
was as much a part of the house as the man himself. Sam could still remember
the first time he’d stepped into the McKenna home. The warm, motherly welcome
from Liam’s mom practically had him reeling, to say nothing of the jolt to his
hormones delivered by his first look at Riley. Then Liam had led him into the living
room, where Josh was sitting in that very chair, looking completely unruffled by
Sam’s most recent tattoo and surly smirk.
“Whisky?” Josh had asked.
“Joshua, he’s a minor,” said Riley’s mother.
Sam jumped in. “I’ve had whisky before.”
“Good enough for me.” Josh had poured them a couple of fingers of Jameson’s.
Liam, being several months younger than Sam, had been offered lemonade. Sam
had never admitted it to anyone, but he often wondered if his seemingly
spontaneous decision to start a whisky distillery hadn’t been born out of that long-
ago moment when Josh McKenna had taken a fatherless kid under his wing, no
questions asked.
“Where have you been?” Josh asked Sam, jerking him back to the present. “You
missed cake.”
“He was playing dolls. Brought his own Barbie wardrobe and everything,” Liam
said, dodging a halfhearted kick from Sam.
Josh grunted. “My granddaughter got the McKenna female wiles. She’s every bit
as manipulative as her grandmother. And her mother. And her aunts.”
“Kate’s not like that,” Brian said, patiently mopping baby spit from his shoulder.
“That’s because that baby girl doesn’t know how to lie,” Josh said. “She’d tell you
you’re ugly to your face if the thought popped into her head. Manipulation doesn’t
pop into her head.”
“Neither do manners,” Liam muttered.
Sam wisely stayed out of the familiar argument. All of the McKenna sisters were
stunning and likable in their way. Megan had the sort of sturdy, bossy
competence that came with being the oldest, just as Kate had the oblivious, semi-
self-absorbed air of the baby of the family. Then there was Riley. And speaking
of …
All four men turned to see Riley and the douche bag Brent standing in the
doorway. “Brent’s leaving,” Riley said, looking around the room expectantly.
She was met with vacant stares. Sam knew the other men’s thoughts echoed his
own. And?
Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you want to say goodbye? Dad?”
“Bye,” Josh grunted.
Her eyes narrowed further. “Liam.”
Her brother squirmed slightly at her tone. “See ya,” he said, with a quick nod at
Brent.
“Nice to meet you all,” Brent said with a polite smile. “I hope to see you again
soon.”
“Sure,” Liam muttered.
Sam kept his eyes carefully focused on the television even though he didn’t have
a clue who was playing. Not for the first time, he wished it could have been the
more direct, younger McKenna he’d fallen for. There’d be none of these games
with Kate. Kate wouldn’t have thought to flaunt another man in his face to show
him what he was missing. To make him visualize Brent’s hands on her tiny waist,
his mouth …
Damn it.
Against his will, his eyes went to Riley and Brent, but they’d disappeared. He
forced himself to stay put, even though his heart started pounding. He felt
restless. Antsy. He felt … jealous.
Where was that coming from? Why now? He’d spent years reminding himself that
Riley wasn’t his. That he had no right to resent her relationships. But the burning
sensation in his neck and the knot in his stomach was definitely jealousy.
Goddamn, this room was suffocating.
“Be right back,” he muttered, setting his beer on a coaster so Erin wouldn’t tan
his ass if he marked up the furniture, and headed out of the living room. Riley had
said only that Brent was leaving, not that they were leaving, which meant that she
might still be here. Maybe they could talk …
No, he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than talk.
Needing fresh air, he started toward the back door, only to see a congregation of
women hovering. No thanks. He reversed, heading toward the front door.