I yank my hand back like it has been burned. “No, it doesn’t.”

His smirk is infuriating. “You’ve got five minutes.” Shane turns to push his way back through the crowd, then stops. When I notice he’s staring behind me, a quick look reveals Patrick watching us closely from the bar. The sudden tension in Shane’s shoulders tells me he sees a challenge and doesn’t appreciate it. Like me, though, turning down a challenge doesn’t appear to be in his nature. He returns his attention to me and his energy has changed from irritated back to sensual. Having it directed at me is more potent than any amount of alcohol. “One more thing, Willa.” His rough hand slides down my arm, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver coasting up my back. “If I can’t touch you, then neither can that fucker.”

“He’s just a friend.” I say it fast and immediately want to melt into a puddle of self-disgust. I don’t owe him a damn explanation. He has a lot of nerve acting as though ordering me around is acceptable. It’s too late to take it back, however, so I can only stand there and fume silently.

“I thought you weren’t here to make friends.”

“Allow me to clarify. I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” For a moment, his gaze lingers on my mouth. “Five minutes.”

As Shane exits the pub, all I can do is stare at his retreating back, flexing beneath his gray Henley. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I know I don’t like it. Since that day in the airport, there has been an undercurrent running between us. Every time we’re in the same room, it only feels stronger. By giving him an explanation moments ago, I’ve taken a big, ill-advised step toward accepting that there is an attraction between us and God forbid, that we could actually act upon it. Even more troubling, despite my annoyance over Shane behaving as though he has ownership of me, the thought of giving into those urges leaves me feeling…impatient. With him? My reaction? I don’t know.

Patrick’s voice intrudes on my troubling inner thoughts. “Everything all right, love?”

I paste on a smile and nod.

“Who was that?”

The bane of my existence. “Our ride. I’m afraid we have to call it a night.” We start walking toward the dance floor where Brian is now doing soft-shoe as Faith points and giggles. “Help me wrangle the dancing queen?”

Chapter Six

One day, a little over a year ago, Ginger locked her keys in her car. It was just about sunset on an unusually gorgeous day in Chicago and instead of calling Derek to come pick her up, she decided to walk home. Unfortunately, with fucked-up luck running in the family, her cell-phone battery died and she got lost. When she finally gave up on finding her way and called Derek from a payphone, he’d been ready to call in the National Guard. Seriously, I was there. He actually picked up the phone to make that call.

We’d immediately rushed out of the apartment to go pick Ginger up in a less-than-savory section of town, finding her in a Laundromat located beside an abandoned lot. The strained silence that reined in the car during the ride home was thick and impenetrable.

Exactly like the silence I’m experiencing now in the passenger’s seat of Shane’s car as Faith fumes in the backseat.

She didn’t make a scene in front of Brian and Patrick, but as soon as she’d seen Shane’s car idling at the curb, she became the poster child for angst. A glance in the rearview mirror tells me the back of Shane’s head is still the recipient of her ferocious glare. If his rigid posture is any indication, he feels that look like an ice pick lodged in his skull.

I grab onto the dashboard as Shane snakes between two delivery trucks and takes a quick right turn. He only has one hand draped casually over the steering wheel and yet, he somehow handles this car with practiced ease. It’s there in his eyes, the love of driving. I’ve seen him angry, and I’ve seen him turned on. This is a combination of those two emotions. Intensity snaps in the air around him, the rev of the engine corresponding to his body movements, as if he’s one with the car. It’s clear this is what he’s passionate about. What he was meant to do with his life. I glance away, back out the window.

Finally, we pull up in front of the Claymore Inn. Shane puts the car in park and for a second, no one moves. I unfasten my seat belt, intending to be the first one out, to give them time to hash out their private family issues. I don’t want to be involved, even if a small part of me wants to stick around and defend Faith, but she beats me to it.

“I’m sick to death of being treated like a child.” She snatches up her purse and throws open the back door. “You just had to come collect me like some sort of…unruly teenager.”

Thankfully, Shane doesn’t point out the irony of that statement. If he had, I’m pretty sure twin laser beams would have shot from Faith’s eyeballs to slice him in half. “Faith, if you wanted to go out, you could have talked to me. That part of town isn’t suitable—”

“Jesus, do you hear yourself? You sound like Da.”

Faith’s sobbed statement shuts Shane down cold. His hands drop from the steering wheel to lay in his lap. His sister isn’t finished, though. As I sit frozen in my seat, I listen to what I suspect is years of frustration pour out of her. It’s stilted and unnatural coming from the normally happy-go-lucky Faith, but it’s like she can’t control it. While I understand what she’s going through, I feel so horribly out of place sitting there, listening like an interloper. Once again I start to exit the car, just as Faith delivers the final blow.

“You left, Shane. You left because you couldn’t live under his thumb. Well, take a good, long look in the mirror, because you’re exactly like him. You are him.”

She slams the door and runs into the inn. My hand drops from my door, and I slump back in my seat. Tension hums in the car, and I know where it’s coming from. Shane is probably blaming this debacle on me. I’m woman enough to admit he might be half right. While this little scene was inevitable in my estimation, I urged it along by taking Faith out tonight.

There is also a shred of decency left inside me, apparently, because I feel bad on Shane’s behalf. Just a little. Like Shane, my sister had the unfortunate luck to be born first, giving her a sense of responsibility for me. The same kind Shane feels for Faith. It’s not something either one of them can turn off. Some people are built to care about others more than themselves. I’m not declaring him right or making excuses for him, but in that moment, I can see he didn’t just swoop into O’Kelly’s tonight like an overprotective father purely to be an asshole. There’s something more complicated simmering under the surface.