Page 31 of Brutal Vows
I say flatly, “That butter knife can also be used as a carving tool.”
“Five? Four?”
“I think it’s time we called it an evening, Mr. Quinn.” I shove my chair out from under me and stand.
He lounges back in his chair and smiles, folding his hands over his stomach and stretching out his legs, the very picture of the lord of the manor at ease.
“But we haven’t had dessert yet.”
Mamma—the traitor—seems to find the entire exchange highly amusing. In fact, she seems to find Mr. Quinn himself highly amusing, something that outrages me.
She’s the one who said the Irish are despicable!
I grit out, “We don’t have any dessert.”
“Except for that panna cotta you made this morning,” says Mamma. “There’s some tiramisu left, too.”
Quinn’s smile blossoms into a huge grin. He flashes all those nice white teeth at me, not knowing or caring that he’s in mortal danger.
I glare at my mother. “Howkindof you to remember, Mamma. Isn’t it time for you to go to bed?”
She looks out the kitchen window, then back at me. As it’s only six thirty and the middle of August, it’s still light outside. But since she’s chosen the wrong side of this fight, she needs to leave.
She stands. Quinn stands, too.
“It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Caruso,” he says.
His smile appears to be genuine. Not the shit-eating, fuck-you smile he’s always gifting me.
Mamma says, “Nice meeting you, too,gallo sciocco. Good luck.”
She hobbles out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself.
Smug, Quinn looks at me. “Took to me like a duck to water, don’t you think?”
I say flatly, “It’s the dementia.”
“No, lass, your mother’s as sharp as a tack.”
“Which is why she kept calling you a goofy rooster.”
“Admit it. She likes me.”
“She likes maggot cheese, too.”
He grimaces. “What the bloody hell is maggot cheese?”
“Look in the mirror and find out.”
He gives me a sour look, then takes his seat again and glances pointedly at the refrigerator.
“Mr. Quinn, I’m not serving you dessert. Please, go now.”
“Why would I want to leave when we’re having so much fun?”
“You’re as much fun as gangrene.”
“Ouch.”
