Patrick laughed, his whole body shaking. I loved him like this—carefree and laughing, his grey eyes twinkling and the dimples evident around his mouth. I didn’t want a lean, muscled gym rat. I wanted a man like this, soft and warm with wide shoulders and a thick chest and a bit of a belly. Someone who, when they wrapped me up in their arms, made me feel totally and utterly safe and wanted.
“Yep. Wait until you meet my aunts. They’re all in their seventies, and they’re Irish, so they’ll have absolutely no issue asking you a million questions. And they’ll spot any inconsistencies a mile out.”
“We’d better get it right then. I’m not getting thrown out before I’ve eaten cake because we got a date wrong!”
“No dates, got it,” Patrick said with a grin. “So, who asked who out?”
“Clearly, I asked you, and you were utterly charmed by my stunning personality, wit, and charm.”
“Oh, is that what that is?” Patrick asked cheekily, his Irish brogue thickening and making me melt from the inside out.
This weekend was going to be a fucking disaster.