Page 58 of Fifth Avenue Fling

Her expression stirs something protective in me. I’d kill any bastard who tried to screw over Teagan.

She looks up at me ruefully. “I quit my job to start the business. My dream was always to live in New York, so when everything imploded in my face like that, I figured it was the right time to go. Staying in Ireland just kept reminding me of how stupid I was.”

“You’re not stupid, Clodagh,” I say softly. “You’re just trusting. You deserve to be treated better than that. He sounds like a scumbag.”

“I’m naïve, more like. I looked up to him because he was so smart. I never thought I could start my own business. In school, I came bottom of the class in the important subjects.” She blanches. “I probably shouldn’t tell you that. If I were your daughter, you’d be so disappointed in me. I’m bowled over by how much Teagan does, never mind her schoolwork.”

“You’re not my daughter.” I stare hard at her, feeling my jaw tense up. “And that’s not how being a father works. You love your daughter for everything about them, even their vulnerabilities.”

She shrugs. “Anyway, it’s not all doom and gloom. I’ve wanted to live in New York ever since I watchedHome Alonewhen I was eight. And here I am.”

“If only life in New York was a Disney fantasy.”

“I don’t need the fantasy. I’d be happy living in New York and sanding doors. That’s it. I’m a simple gal. No big dreams.” She looks at me curiously. “What’s your dream? Have they all come true?”

“I don’t dream.”

She eyes me skeptically. “I don’t believe that. Everyone dreams, even if they’re scared to share them.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Her grin suggests she’s won some unspoken battle between us. Her fingertips trace around the rim of her glass, hinting at a refill. “I also think underneath the cool exterior, you’re not as scary as you’d like people to believe.”

My chest tightens as she stares at me, her eyes smoldering with a mixture of heat and hope. “Don’t doubt it; I am.”

She pouts slightly. “Do I really have to keep calling you Mr. Quinn? Can I call you Killian? Killy?”

I drain my glass and stand. “Go to bed.Weboth have tobe up at five.”

Her emerald eyes widen in disappointment, but she nods.

Her robe slips off one shoulder as she stands, exposing the top of her perfect, small breasts. Definitely never getting to sleep now.

“And yes, you can call me Killian. Don’t expect to keep your job if I hear you call meKillyeven once.”

***

I’m exhausted in the morning. After my run, I decided to go to work late. It’ll be nice to have breakfast with my daughter for once. We don’t get enough quality time together, and when we do, all I get these days are sullen looks and tantrums. Getting my baby girl to talk to me is like drawing blood from a stone.

“Heya,” Clodagh chirps when I enter the kitchen. She hands me a coffee. “I made it to the end of the week.”

My brow lifts. It’s a little premature,consideringtheeventsoflast night.“The week isn’t over yet.”

She scowls but knows to leave it.

The sound of Teagan’s footsteps down the hall makes me smile. She doesn’t know I’m here.

I turn to greet her. “Morning, hon—what the fuck?” This better be a joke. “Tell me that is a wig!”

My daughter’s beautiful, naturally auburn hair is a horrific neon red. Her forehead looks like it’s breaking out in a rash.

Teagan winces, but stubbornly lifts her chin in defiance as she comes into the kitchen.

I slam my coffee down and push to standing. “What the hell have you done?” She looks like a mad fucking clown.

She takes the breakfast plate from Clodagh, avoiding my glare. “Thanks, Clodagh.”

“Teagan,” I growl, trying to temper my anger.

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