I looked across the table at Seonaid to find her frowning at her brother. She shot me a look of concern. “Jim—”

“Seonaid, I love ye, but this is none of yer fucking business.”

The awkward silence that fell over the table seemed even more pronounced in contrast to the noise of the pub—from the groans and cheers shouted at the TV screen and the happy Sunday chatter at the bar, and around the tables scattered throughout the large room.

But if there was anything Roddy was particularly good at, it was breaking an awkward silence.

“Ye ken what is yer business, Cee-Cee? How lonely I was in ma bed last night.”

Despite the tension radiating off Jim, I almost spat my beer out in laughter.

Amusement glittered in Seonaid’s dark eyes. “As long as you have your right hand, Roddy, you’ll never be lonely.”

Jim shook against me with light laughter, and I laughed loudly, possibly more out relief that he was letting the last conversation go.

Roddy grinned at her. She was the only one who ever made him really smile like that. “I’m ambidextrous, sweetheart.”

“A wanking insurance policy.” She raised an eyebrow. “So life did throw you a bone after all. Pun intended.”

Chuckling now, Roddy opened his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly drifted over Seonaid’s shoulder, and the smile fell right off his face. He grabbed his lager and before taking a long swig, he announced, “The arsehole just arrived.”

Seonaid’s latest lover, Fergus, was walking toward our table. Seonaid threw Roddy an exasperated look. “Be nice.”

He ignored her, staring determinedly at the television, something I knew he would do as long as Fergus was around. Roddy was never nice to any of Seonaid’s boyfriends, and she’d had a few since I’d been here. How it hadn’t occurred to her that Roddy’s flirtatiousness might actually be hiding real feelings, I did not know.

Or maybe she was in denial too.

Or it could be that she had a particular type and Roddy wasn’t it.

Sympathy for my friend made it hard for me to truly like Fergus. That and the fact that Seonaid was always attracted to really good-looking guys who knew they were good-looking and were fuckwits about it.

Roddy was far too rough around the edges to compete looks-wise with those guys, but despite his claims earlier, Roddy was never short of a girl or two. He had a brusque standoffishness that seemed to work for women. They sensed what I already knew—that beneath that rough, abrupt, cocky exterior was a very kind, loyal man. It drove them crazy and appealed to the feminine instinct to be the one woman who could bring that side of him to the surface.

“Hey, babe,” Seonaid stood up to hug and kiss Fergus.

He settled at the table with us. “Hey, all. How is everyone doing?”

Jim and I responded.

Roddy did not.

Fergus barely paid attention. “I can’t stay long, baby,” he said to Seonaid. “Jack asked me to help him move today.”

“Oh.” Seonaid’s expression fell. “We haven’t seen each other all week, though.”

“I know …” He kissed her softly. “Don’t nag, baby, eh?”

I wanted to kick him in the balls.

Apparently, so did Seonaid. “I’m not nagging. Did that sound like nagging to you?” she asked us.

Roddy side-eyed her but didn’t respond.

Avoiding the question, Jim shrugged and looked at the TV.

“Drinks?” I said, trying to break the awkwardness. “Anyone?”

“Another lager,” Jim said.

Roddy lifted his empty glass. “Same here.”

“Wine.” Seonaid sighed, realizing no one wanted to get involved in another couple’s spat.

“I’ll have a Tennent’s. Thanks, Nora.” Fergus spun around in his seat to see what game was on. “What did I miss?”

I left the table as Jim filled him in.

Instead of standing at the bar waiting to get served, I hopped up onto a bar stool. Because of my height, I tended to get ID’d more, which was frustrating since the legal drinking age here was eighteen. Even though Gareth, the bartender, knew me, I still hated feeling like a little girl standing at that bar.

Gareth was busy serving someone else, and as I sat there stewing on the conflict between my husband and me, I slowly became aware of a prickling sensation in my scalp. Following the feeling, I turned my head ever so slightly and scanned the room. At first, I couldn’t discern why I’d felt like I was being watched … and then my eyes connected with his.

The noise of the bar dimmed to a murmur as we stared at one another, this stranger and me. From the distance across the bar, I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but they were focused. Intent. On me.

He was older. Tall, broad-shouldered, looking crammed into the booth he and his companion were in. The woman sitting in the booth behind him looked tiny in comparison.

He was utterly masculine in a way that caused my breath to falter. Square, strong jawline, expressive mouth, unshaven, and a moody countenance. There was a crease between his brows and sexy laugh lines around his eyes.

I flushed, quickly turning back to the bar.

My back felt hot beneath my long hair as if the stranger’s stare was still burning into me.

“Nora, I’ll be with ye as soon as I can,” Gareth called, looking apologetic.

I gave him a reassuring smile because the pub was always busy on Sundays.

“Nora, is it?”

The stool next to me shifted, and I reluctantly looked at my new neighbor. A lanky guy, maybe late twenties, early thirties, grinned at me from the stool while another stockier guy stood at his side. They each had a pint of Guinness in their hands and were leering at me in a way I knew and dreaded.

I flicked a glance across the room at my table and relaxed marginally at the sight of Jim laughing with Seonaid, not paying attention to the bar.

“Let us buy ye a drink, Nora,” the lanky one said.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon.” His grin was lopsided, and his pupils told me he’d had more than a few pints today. “We dinnae bite. Unless ye ask, o’ course.”

More firmly, I replied, “No thanks,” and looked away.

Not even a second later, I felt his hand brush my back as it came to rest on the edge of my stool. I glanced at him, shrinking away at finding he’d trapped me against the bar.

“I’m Lewis.” He nodded to his friend. “This is Pete. And we both decided ye’er the sexiest wee thing we’ve seen in ages.”

“I’m also married.” I held up my ring finger. “So …” Fuck off.

Lewis dismissed this information. “Who cares.”

“I fucking care.”

Anxiety suffused me as my eyes flew behind Pete to find my husband, looking furious. “Jim, it’s fine.”

Jim shoved Pete out of the way and stepped up to Lewis. “Get yer fuckin’ hand off her stool before I rip it off and shove it up yer arse.”

“Jim,” I pleaded.

“What’s yer problem, mate?” Lewis slammed his Guinness down on the counter and slid off the stool. He was taller than Jim but not as built, yet it didn’t seem to matter.

He was drunk.

And my husband was overprotective.

“Jim,” I warned, slipping off the stool and placing a hand on his chest. “Just leave it. They’re drunk. They didn’t mean anything.”

Jim pushed my hand away hard enough to make me stumble back and then he threw the first punch.

After that, everything was a blur.

Shouts and cries, both outraged and encouraging, filled the air as Jim and Lewis went at each other. It wasn’t a fair fight because Jim was nowhere near as drunk, and he was bigger, but Lewis was dogged.

After Jim hit him hard enough to throw him back into the bar counter, Lewis barely took a moment to shake his dazed head, and then lunged at Jim like a bull, catching him around the middle.

I saw him driving Jim toward me, but there were stools and a pillar in my way. My reflexes weren’t fast enough.

They knocked me right off my feet.

Pain ricocheted up my right wrist as I hit the floor hard. There was a blur of movement and sound above me, and one deep voice cutting through, “For fuck’s sake.”