“Ah, Maggie.” Kieran went over to where she stood at the counter, wrapping his arms around her. She virtually disappeared in his embrace.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed into his shirt, hugging him as if he was a cherished, albeit supersized, teddy bear. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to put you in the middle. I just needed to tell someone...”
“Tell someone what?” Michael’s deep voice reverberated through the kitchen, shooting his brother a questioning look.
Startled, Maggie backed away from Kieran, dropping the dish she’d had in her hand.
Kieran exchanged a brief glance with Michael as Maggie swore softly and bent to pick up the pieces. He kept his expression carefully neutral, but Michael’s eyes narrowed. The very fact that his face gave away nothing probably told his brother everything he needed to know.
“Maggie,” Michael said gently, kneeling beside her to take the broken ceramic from her hands. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled unconvincingly.
Michael stood and turned to his youngest brother. “Kieran? Have you done something to upset my wife?”
Kieran shifted uncomfortably under his older brother’s steady gaze, unwilling to lie but not wanting to rat Maggie out. As it turned out, he didn’t have to do either. Michael’s question brought some of the fire back into Maggie’s eyes. She was fiercely protective of her family, and that included Kieran.
“Of course he didn’t,” she snapped, placing herself in front of Kieran. “You know, for such a smart man you can be such a donkey’s backside.”
One of Michael’s dark brows formed a perfect arch over his luminous blue eyes. ”A donkey’s backside?” Kieran turned away in an attempt to stem the bark of laughter currently trying to escape.
“Aye,” she said, and it was a sign that she was gearing up for something. Whenever Maggie got that slight hint of Irish brogue in her voice, everyone knew enough to brace for battle.
Kieran took full advantage of the opportunity and started backing away. A riled Maggie was every bit as dangerous as a highly-trained operative. Maybe more so, because there was usually some logic or rules of engagement for operatives.
“You cannot see what is plain in front of your face, Michael Callaghan.”
Michael regarded her with a practiced calm Kieran envied. He tossed the remains of the plate in the trash can and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”
Maggie crossed her arms, too. It was hard to determine which one was more stubborn. “Aye.”
“You wouldn’t by any chance be referring to the fact that you are thirteen weeks pregnant, would you, Maggie?”
Maggie’s mouth dropped open. Michael smirked.
“You knew?” Astonishment turned to anger in the span of a few heartbeats. Kieran didn’t miss her quick glance at the cast iron skillet in the drying rack. Apparently neither did Michael, because he moved it smoothly out of her reach.
Michael sighed heavily. “I am a doctor, Maggie. And your husband.”
“You knew? And you didn’t say anything?”
“Neither did you,” he pointed out logically. Maggie scowled. Kieran wondered at the dynamics of the pair. Maggie was Michael’s passion; he was her rock, always. And he never let her get away with anything.
“By the way, you have a two o’clock with the OB.” Michael checked his watch. “That gives you about ten minutes to get ready.”
Her peeved expression turned quickly to one of fear. Her eyes widened and her arms uncrossed. “But I can’t,” she stammered. “What about Ryan?”
“Kieran’s taking him back to the Pub. Taryn’s waiting on him.”
Maggie shot Kieran a look of ultimate betrayal. “Is that why you’re here?” she said in disbelief. “All that shite about being the only one who hasn’t found his croie yet, that was just to distract me?”
He shrugged. It was true enough that he was starting to feel restless, that he was ready to meet the right woman who would be the other half of his heart. He hadn’t been lying about that. Sure, he had BodyWorks, the fitness center he owned and operated. That kept him busy. As did his martial arts classes and the occasional art work he did for his cousin Stacey’s novel covers.
But he was growing more than a little weary of the single life. He’d give it all up in a second to have a woman look at him the way Maggie looked at his brother. To have a little guy of his own to bounce on his shoulders and toss baseballs with and take fishing.
“Judas,” she mumbled, adding something in Irish that made his cheeks redden and actually made him feel bad.
“Now go on then,” Michael said sternly, tapping her backside and giving her a gentle push toward the door. “Ten minutes, then I’m tossing you over my shoulder and taking you whether you’re ready or not.”