Completely.
I had on a pair of strappy, but casual, tan high-heeled sandals and with these was wearing a shirtwaist dress in a drifty silk with a subtle feminine pattern that had a background of deep pink. It had a belt of the same material cinching it at the waist, buttons up the front (and I’d only undone a proper few at my collarless neckline) and long sleeves. But the skirt was scalloped up at the side seams and hit above my knee.
Sitting, it rode up significantly.
So with my legs to the side, aimed toward Mickey, and crossed that way, a goodly amount of thigh was on show.
I felt a tinge of heat hit my cheeks—and, frankly, elsewhere—and I fought it back as I stared at Mickey, perplexed at the same time I resisted the urge to hide my legs under the table.
Why was he looking at my legs?
“So, when can we go?”
This question drew my attention and I looked to Cillian.
“Go where, honey?”
“With you to Dove House,” he explained.
I blinked.
“That’d be cool,” Aisling said quietly. “And I’m sure they could use the help. We could go one day before school starts, while Dad’s at work.”
“I—”
Cillian spoke over me, doing this to declare, “I’m not cleanin’ up old people puke.”
Aisling looked to her brother. “You won’t have to. You can play checkers with them or something.”
“I can’t beat old people at checkers,” he returned. “That’d be mean and I’m a master checker player.”
“Then play something you’re bad at,” Aisling replied.
“Dude, I’m not bad at anything,” Cillian retorted with a cheeky, arrogant grin.
“Why do you wanna go?” Aisling asked.
“Because Amy is da bomb and I want some old lady to shout at me,” Cillian answered.
Aisling made a face that was not easy to behold.
But before I got a lock on why that was, she smoothed it and rebuked, “That isn’t cool, Cill. She’s not right in the head because she’s old. You shouldn’t go to a nursing home just to make fun of people.”
Cillian reared back in horrified affront. “I’m not gonna make fun of her. I reckon everyone looks at her like she’s crazy. She yells at me and calls me a Nazi, I’ll march around in that stupid way they did and make her feel not crazy.”
That was weird, but it was a weird kind of sweet.
“You go with Amy, you help Amy,” Mickey entered the conversation, his voice deep with fatherly authority. “She wants you to play checkers with the folks there, you play checkers…and lose. Or you do dishes. Or you do whatever she asks.”
Oh no, this couldn’t happen.
I liked Mickey’s kids. I liked being with them. I liked sitting at their table, chatting and eating. Even not getting along with Mickey, it felt nice to be a part of a family.
But the bottom line was that Mickey and I weren’t getting along so in order for this not to trouble Aisling, or eventually be communicated to Cillian, we should curtail our together-type activities.
Not make up more as we went along.
“Just to point out but I have a two-seater car,” I told them and looked to Mickey. “I can’t get them there.”
“I’ll drop ’em off,” he told me.
“I can’t get them back,” I replied desperately.
“I’ll pick ’em up,” he stated smoothly.
I glared.
He looked to my mouth and his got tight.
“Groovy!” Cillian cried and I forced myself to drop the glare and look at Mickey’s boy. “When can we go? Tomorrow?”
The next words I had to say I knew might kill me.
“I need to tell Dela you’re coming. She runs the place. So how about I talk to her and if she says it’s okay, then I’ll phone your dad and we’ll set a day before you go back to school.”
“Awesome!” Cillian exclaimed.
“Yeah, Amy, that’d be cool,” Aisling said softly, a small smile on her lips.
I took in her smile and just getting it, I’d put up with her father.
“Look forward to that call,” Mickey muttered, his meaning lost on everyone but me.
I shifted my legs in order to kick him in the shin.
His body jolted and his gaze cut to me.
I gave him a look I hoped was nasty.
He took it, something shifted behind his eyes, and he grinned at me.
Jerk.
I looked away.
“Can I have another piece of cake, Dad?” Cillian asked.
Mickey answered his boy, “Yeah, son.”
I looked to Aisling, who was looking between her father and me. Caught, she then cast her eyes to her plate.
“Dinner was amazing, blossom,” I told her softly.
She lifted her gaze to me briefly and mumbled, “Thanks, Amy.”
I watched her do this and thought that, yes, something about Aisling Donovan was troubling me.
Cillian got his extra piece of cake, everyone cleared and Mickey set his kids to washing up while I explained it was time to leave.
I got good-byes from the kids and unfortunately, Mickey decided to walk me to his front door.
“I can get there myself,” I said under my breath on the way.
“You can also get there with me,” he said under his.