Page 151 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“How many women have you taken there for a hangover cure the morning after?”

Zach glances at me. “Ah.”

“You’ve clearly spent a lot of time here.”

Enjoying his panicked squirming, I let him splutter for a few seconds before pecking his lips.

“Relax, Zach. It doesn’t matter how many women you’ve taken there, or anywhere, for that matter. I’m messing with you.”

“I wasn’t a man whore if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Would it be so wrong if you were?” I challenge him. “Why does it matter? Your sex life is your business. I don’t understand people who feel it’s their place to judge others.”

“Really?” He gapes at me. “Why?”

“Because they should just mind their own business. We’re all adults and have our own pasts. That shouldn’t dictate our relationships in the future.”

Halting outside the small, brightly lit restaurant, Zach tells Killian to head inside and grab a table. Once we’re alone, he steps into my personal space and grips my chin to tilt my head up. My lips are seized in a fast and hard kiss.

When we break apart, I’m seriously considering skipping breakfast. His hair hangs over his face in the sunlight, framing dimples unveiled by his lazy grin.

Hell, I’m screwed.

“You’re incredible, Willow. You know that?”

“Hardly,” I whisper back.

Zach kisses me again. “No, you are. You’ve got so much to give to the world, even when you don’t see it. I’m so fucking glad I met you.”

My heart melts into a pathetic puddle.

“I’m thankful to have you in my life too, Zach. Even when you’re being a pain in my ass and corrupting my daughter.”

“Told you we didn’t need a dog, huh?” He winks at me. “Come on, let’s eat before Killian gets even hangrier and eats the waiter or something.”

Heading inside the restaurant, we find Killian hunched over a menu in a dark red leather corner booth. He barely lifts his head as we sit down, grunting instead as he’s too engrossed by the prospect of food.

Zach slides me a menu. “Choose whatever you want.”

“Thanks. What do you recommend?”

“I usually go for a cheese and tomato omelette. Plus, French toast. Maybe some pancakes too. Oh, I forgot about the pastries. They’re homemade.”

“Zach,” I interrupt him. “Slow down.”

He flashes me a toothy smile. “What? I’m starving.”

“I might just order it all,” Killian agrees, placing his menu down. “Sounds good.”

Nauseated by their huge appetites, I request a simple omelette and coffee. Killian bellows for the waiter, who definitely doesn’t appreciate his lack of manners, and then we’re left alone with steaming hot drinks and wrapped cutlery.

Zach turns his attention to me. “Have you made up with Lola then?”

I fight the urge to groan. “Stop fishing, Zach. It’s more complicated than that and you know it. I took the money because she wouldn’t leave me alone until I did.”

“Did you talk to her about your mum?”

“No.”

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