Page 75 of A Billionaire's Cabin Love

“Kara won’t sign a prenup. So don’t fix your mouth to bring it up. Tuig?” Collin growled, in an Irish accent. He slapped his dad’s shoulder.

I couldn’t understand the Irish word Collin used. It wasn’t clear he was Irish until this evening. Why didn’t he mention his heritage? Explained his hot temper, though.

“Good to see you, dad.”

His father clutched his neck, hacking up his lungs.

Collin stepped over and wrapped his mother in his arms. “I love you. And I love her. I won’t choose. Don’t dare ask.”

His mother was as white as a ghost when he released her.

Collin intertwined our fingers.

I peeked over my shoulder, flashing an uncomfortable grin. “Nice to meet you both.”

His father stepped in the middle of the hall, chest heaving.

“Don’t bring your whore back to my house,” he yelled.

Collin released my hand and tore down the hall.

“Please, Collin, no,” I shouted.

Doris shook her head as she jumped in front of Allan. Sadness loomed her pretty eyes. “That’s enough,” her voice broke. “Leave, Collin.”

“You’re fucking dead to me,” Collin roared, pointing at his father.

He stalked toward me and grabbed my hand. I’d never seen Collin so upset.

Collin stormed out of the Beverly Hills mansion, pulling me with him in these fucking heels. I was damn near running to keep up with him down the paved circular driveway. He opened the passenger door of his blue Porsche Taycan and gently scooped me up and sat my bottom on the seat.

Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, his free hand stroked my legs resting in his lap. We rode in silence for fifteen minutes through the busy streets of Los Angeles.

I stared at the dimming sky.

Slowly, his scowl diminished. Did I calm him? I loved how his hands felt against my skin. His fingertips danced along my leg. Yeah, so soothing. Maybe to us both.

“Collin, you didn’t think it was important to tell me you were Irish?”

“I’m part Irish.”

“You said something in another language to your father.”

I spoke in Gaelic. My father taught me the language when I was a boy. We visited our relatives in Ireland almost every year until I was seventeen. Then I continued to visit on my own. I asked him if he understood.”

“Your temper is scary. I notice I talk you down a lot. Have you always gotten into fights?”

“Yeah, you could say that. My mother placed me in therapy when I was a child because I was always fighting some asshole kid. Maybe I need to return to therapy. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “You haven’t scared me personally. I was often afraid for the other person.”

He smirked as he halted in a parking space at the drugstore.

A couple of minutes later, we stood in front of a display of pregnancy tests. Collin peered down at me, then kissed my forehead. “I meant what I said earlier. You’re my family. After Milan, we’ll visit my aunts and grandparents in Ireland. Just in time for the holidays.”

My face lit up. “I’d like that.”

Collin and I decided on three tests.

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