Page 16 of Bracing The Storm

“You’re going to be a huge problem, huh? We’ll see about that, pal.” I take out my phone and before he knows what’s happening I’ve taken a picture of him. And then another, just in case.

He frowns. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking a picture for the police records. As far as I remember, I fired you this morning, yet you’re still here.” I raise my chin, ready to stare him down if need be. Just because I’mthe new boss, he can’t test my boundaries. He can’t be a jerk and get away with it.

“Youstillthink I’m your employee?” His eyes glitter with challenge. “My name is Patrick Walsh. I’m the rightful owner of this house, and your hot arse is trespassing.”

I stare at him in disbelief, unsure whether to be flattered or offended that he called my ass hot. And then my brain finally connects the dots.

Patrick Walsh.

The rightful owner.

But how is that possible if the late Ms. Walsh left everything to me, unless?—

“You’re related to Roisin Walsh?”

He nods with that arrogant smirk of his firmly in place. “Her son, to be precise.”

“Did she disown you?” I whisper. “Oh, my goodness.”

His eyes narrow on me, and invisible daggers begin to fly through the air. “No, my mother didn’t disown me. She left me most of the money. Apparently it’s this house she didn’t want me to have.” He hesitates, as though there’s more to it than he’s letting on, then shakes his head grimly. “She made a mistake. There’s no other explanation for it.”

There must have been a family feud, some unresolved issue standing between them. Or why else would she not have wanted him to have the house?

“I suggest you don’t bother unpacking because it’s going to be a short stay for you,” Patrick says.

For a moment I consider doing exactly as he says but then I remember his mother wanted me to have her house. Whatever her reasons it was her wish.

“Too late,” I say. “I already unpacked, and I don’t intend to make use of my suitcase for a while.”

“You can have it the easy way, or you can have it the hard way. Which is it going to be, love?” He comes closer until our faces almost touch. I know this is supposed to be threatening but all I can think about is his hot breath on my lips and that I could close the distance in the fragment of a second.

Suddenly all I want is for him to kiss me. Slow. Fast. Any way would work for me as long as I get to taste him.

“I’ll take the hard way,” I mutter, angry with myself for mentally throwing myself at the guy. This issonot like me, and yet here I am, a melted heap of hormones at the feet of this man.

“Hard it is,” Patrick says. “Hold on tight. It’s going to be a bumpy ride for you.” With that, he turns and heads down the foyer. My gaze travels from his broad shoulders down his back, settling on the way his jeans seem to hang low on his narrow hips.

Damn! He looks so freaking good from behind.

“I like it bumpy, too. Bring it on, dude,” I mumble but he’s already slammed the door behind him, which is good. I wouldn’t want him to hear my ragged breathing.

Chapter Five

“You know how most castles come with their very own ghost? Well, mine comes with its very own Grinch.” I shake my head as I think back to yesterday’s encounter with Patrick Walsh. Our dislike of each other is mutual. There’s no other way to put it, and yet the only image my mind can conjure is stunning gray eyes and a hard body that would probably have most women clutching at the sheets in the throes of passion.

“The Grinch? Really?” Mia laughs.

“I might actually be insulting the Grinch because that Patrick guy could give him a run for his money,” I mutter.

“He’sthatbad, huh?”

“You have no idea,” I say. “The thing is I actually feel sorry for him. He must have donesomethingto make his mother not want to leave the house to him; I just can’t think of anything that would be bad enough to warrant such a reaction. Parents should never disown their children, no matter what. That’s one relationship you can never mend. While Patrick maintains his mother didn’t disown him per se, he still must be shattered, hurt, which is probably the reason why he’s so hostile toward me.”

“Give me a second.” Her breathing comes labored down the line as she shifts the earpiece. I frown, wondering whether she’s been sent on another coffee run. Apparently it’s the intern’s huge responsibility to ensure her supervisors are properly caffeinated throughout the day.

“Are you okay, Mia?”

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