Page 73 of Tee’d Up For Trouble

“That’s what they all say.”

She rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything else, I leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn’t like the other kisses we’d shared—those had been heated, frantic, fueled by tension and lust. This one was slower, deeper, filled with everything I hadn’t been able to put into words.

When we finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my skin. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

The words hit me with the depth and burn of an aged single malt, rich and unforgettable.

“Say it again,” I demanded, my voice low.

She laughed softly, her green eyes sparkling. “I love you, Jax Caldwell.”

“Damn right, you do.” I pulled her closer. “Can I come back to the pub, darlin’ Dee?”

“Yes, please.”

“Thank God! Because one of Ronan’s goats comes inside the house and wakes me up in the morning by bleating outside the bedroom door.”

“Johnny has abandonment issues,” she explained about the goat.

“Johnny shits everywhere.”

“Well, aye! This is a farm, and we have animals, and they shit.”

“Whose side are you on?” I put an arm around her, leading her inside the house.

“Yours. But…Johnny is special.”

“You’re saying a goat is more special than me?”

“Well, you’re a man, and he’s a goat. There’s no competition, Jax.”

“Like hell, there isn’t,” I muttered. “So, what’s it about this goat you like so much?”

She laughed, and I loved how I could make her happy, how I could chase the dark away from her, how she let me.

CHAPTER28

Dee

“Darlin’ Dee, you’re giving me whiplash,” Jax told me when I glared at him because he had the temerity to suggest that he had a plan on how to save Ballybeg. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was the best we had.

“But we don’t need your help.” The words were out before I could stop them. He was an outsider, and this was my standard line.We could take care of our own, thank you very much.

“Whiplash, Dee,” he murmured.

The first time Jax Caldwell asked me to trust him, I scoffed. The second time, I told him to go to hell. But now, standing at the bar in The Banshee’s Rest before opening time with his blue eyes locked on mine, I realized that for the first time, I really did trust him. They weren’t mere words that I spouted out of guilt of hurting him—I did trust him.

“It’s my knee jerk,” I muttered defensively.

“Jerk being the operative word,” Jax shot back in a low voice.

“Alright then, tell me about your plan.”

He sat on a barstool and pulled me to stand between his legs. He nuzzled the opening of my shirt and placed a kiss right above my cleavage.

“Plan, Jax?”

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