“Yes, it is.”
“Rion isn’t going to like this.”
“That’s not really my problem.”
“It is when Sean decides to punish us all for backing out of the arrangement.”
“Well, you should have thought of that before agreeing to marry me off without even consulting me first!”
“Riley, please?—”
“If you really cared about me, you would back me up instead of making excuses.”
“Don’t put this on me.”
“I already have.” I end the call and throw the phone aside.
My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since yesterday, so I pull my hoodie on over my tennis skirt and tank top and head downstairs to find the kitchen.
As expected, I find Kieran already there, cooking up some bacon and eggs at the stove.
He’s shirtless and dripping in sweat, wearing nothing but a pair of workout shorts. His dark hair is also damp and curling slightly at the nape of his neck.
For a second, I’m transfixed by the sight of his muscular back. Unlike mine, his skin is tanned and golden. His shoulders are broad and sculpted to perfection.
My eyes trail along the crease of his spine, stopping when it reaches the curve of his ass.
“It’s rude to stare.”
I blink. “I wasn’t staring.”
I totally was.
“Uh huh.” He glances over his shoulder at me and smirks.
I offer him my signature scowl before spying the coffee pot.
Oh, thank the Lord that Kieran’s not the type of health nut that avoids caffeine.
I simply cannot survive without coffee, so I walk around the island, making sure to put as much distance between me and Kieran’s muscles as possible. “Where are your mugs?”
Instead of telling me, Kieran sets down the spatula and crosses over to me.
My breath catches as I eye his muscled torso, and the asshole seems to notice as he smirks again.
“Right here.” He reaches up into one of the overhead cupboards, and I have to back myself up against the counter so that his chest doesn’t brush against mine.
The temptation to reach out and run my fingers along the contours of his abs is almost overwhelming, but then I remember who I’m dealing with.
Kieran Sullivan has a reputation, and it’s not one I plan on confirming for myself. He might be trying to wind me up in more ways than one, but unlucky for him, I’m not so easily swayed by the sight of a half-naked man, even if that man looks like Hercules incarnate.
“You stink. I’d appreciate it in the future if you didn’t shove your sweaty armpits in my face.”
He sets the mug down on the counter. “And I would appreciate it if in future you stayed in a hotel. I’m not running a fucking bed and breakfast.”
He snatches the coffee pot and stalks back over to the stove, where he empties the pot into his own mug. And I die a little inside.
He then sets about plating up a heaping serving of bacon and eggs before taking the plate, along with his coffee, up the stairs, no doubt to enjoy it in his little man cave.