The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2)(48)

She had had that conversation with Aiden many years ago. It made Carrigan smile to think about. Her oldest brother might be making choices right now that she hated, but once upon a time they’d been close. “I think I remember hearing something about that.”

“Still sitting right here.”

“Pipe the fuck down, kid.” James shot him a look. “As I was saying, you don’t really want to marry this guy, do you?”

She didn’t really want to marry any guy—especially the ones her father had chosen. But wailing about it wasn’t going to do a damn bit of good and they both knew it. “I’m doing the best I can with the options I have.”

“I know. Hell, I know better than most.” Abruptly he grinned and held out his hand. “You want to get out of here?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

She looked at Kellen, who didn’t look all that nice now. Not that she could blame him. He was a mottled shade of red that didn’t go well with his bright hair, and he looked about ready to burst a blood vessel in his forehead. “I—”

“Go back to whatever woman you left to come here, kid. This one doesn’t want you.”

“Jesus Christ. Fine. Whatever. She seems like a stuck-up bitch anyway.” Kellen shoved to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair, and gave them one last disgusted look before he marched away.

James snorted. “Now, where were we?”

“That was mean.” A laugh bubbled up inside her, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep it inside. She should yell at him for his high-handedness and showing up uninvited, but the truth was that he’d saved her from another hour of boring conversation with a man who was barely more than a child. “Really mean.”

“You like me mean.” He motioned her forward with his fingers. “What do you say?”

She could go home, climb in a bath, and hope that would be enough to soak away her misery. Or she could take this man’s hand and run away from reality for a while. Really, it was no contest. Carrigan slipped her hand into his. “Where we going?”

“Crazy, lovely. We’re going crazy.”



Knowing Carrigan was marrying another man was one thing. Seeing her sit across the table from some douche who didn’t deserve her was something else entirely. It made James see red. He’d wanted to snatch that little shit up and shake him for being so goddamn disrespectful enough to be late, let alone show up with evidence of another woman on his clothes. When you had a shot at a woman like Carrigan, all others paled in comparison.

Except James didn’t really have a shot. All he had was stolen time.

He knew that—fuck, it was a truth he couldn’t escape—but the thought still soured his stomach. He wasn’t sure if knowing she obviously wanted him as much has he wanted her made things better or worse. Carrigan was the calm in the middle of the hurricane that was his life. It didn’t make a damn bit of sense because half the time she drove him up the wall, but the second her hand slipped into his, the tightness in his chest loosened, just a little, and he could breathe again.

He led the way out onto the street and waited for her to text her driver. “He’s trustworthy?”

“As trustworthy as anyone is. Though if you kill me and dump my body in a ditch, he’s going to take it personally.”

James snorted. “Lovely, there are half a million things I’d love to do to your body, and not a single one of them includes pain, let alone death.”

“That’s…comforting.” She turned off her phone and dropped it into her purse. It brought his attention to her clothing. He’d been so focused on getting that asshole out of his presence that he had to step back and take a look at the long white dress she wore tonight. It was different from the one he’d last seen her in—there was a definite Grecian feel to the way the fabric fell around her, but it was white and it covered more skin than it exposed.

“White is the last color I’d choose for you.”

She shot him a sharp look. “You don’t get an opinion.”

“Maybe not, but those tiny little excuses for dresses that you wear to the club are more you than this.” He pinched the fabric that fell from her hips, and lifted it a little before letting it flutter back into place. “What would you wear if you weren’t trying to play a role?”

“Maybe one day I’ll show you.” She moved past him, the dress giving her the illusion of floating over the ground instead of walking on it. “Where’s your car?”

“This way.” They strode around the corner to the tiny parking lot. He held the door open for her and then took the driver’s seat. “You up for a little drive?”