wasn’t doing a very good job of proving he could be steady, reliable. The whole point of this exercise.
He opened his eyes, forcing his features and voice into a neutral zone the rest of him wasn’t quite yet in.
“We should be. Relaxed and happy. This is a big decision. For both of us, eh, dulzera?” He ducked his head in a vain attempt to catch Saoirse’s blue eyes with his. In his gut—hell, in his heart—he really wanted to do this for her, but only if they could both leave unscathed at the end. “I’m afraid the ball’s in your court for this one, Murph. It’s your call. If I’m not the guy for you, there’s no point in me moving in here and going through this whole charade.”
She shifted uncomfortably, eyes skidding everywhere around the room but on him.
“I guess it’s the part about it being a charade that I’m not really comfortable with, you know? That it’s fake.”
“I don’t know about you, but what just happened didn’t feel so fake to me.”
“I know! That’s exactly my point!”
“I don’t follow.”
“It’s just that...” Saoirse only just stopped herself from tracing a heart shape onto his chest.
It’d be too easy to fall in love.
“Maybe it’s so close to the other wedding—you know, the Irish one—that I’ve got some guilt or...”
Saoirse trailed off, not sounding convinced by her own argument. Santi had little doubt she was over her ex and from the kisses she’d just been giving him? No, it wasn’t guilt.
“I just feel a bit duplicitous. It’s a shame it’s not—you know...”
“The real thing?” He finished for her.
“Yes.” She nodded glumly. “It would have been nice if our—the marriage was for real.”
He nodded. He knew what she meant. But setting things right with his brothers was his priority. And so far coming back to Miami was the only step he’d taken in that direction. Getting married for real before he was square with his brothers simply wasn’t going to happen.
“It would have been nice, but unless a messed-up ex-Marine is your thing...” He ignored the sharp glance she gave him. One filled with questions. Questions he wasn’t ready to answer.
There was no point in going into details. The fact he couldn’t, with any sort of clean conscience, give his heart to her was the main thing they had going for them. She’d see soon enough. Friends was great. More than that? Not worth the trouble. There’d be another guy, another day... He just needed to see that smile of hers again. It lit him up, more than he liked, but that would be his cross to bear, not hers.
“Murph, c’mere. Sit down.” He patted her stool in a show of It’s-okay,-I won’t-bite and waited for her to climb back up, arms crossed, a leery expression playing across her features.
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
She tilted her head to the side, pretending to size him up. “As much as a girl can be with a man who insists on scrunching saline bags between his shoulder and chin can be.”
“It’s how we always did it out in the field. And it’s not like I have a hook on my head.”
“We could install one,” She hiccup-laughed, then smiled, visibly pleased he was playing along. As full of bravado as she was, he’d already learned Saoirse needed a bit of silly in her day to soften the edges of a life that hadn’t been altogether kind to her, and he was more than happy to oblige.
“We could install a clip on your work cap. I’ll call you Mr. Saline Head,” she said, almost shyly.
“And you thought I was the mad one.” Santi laughed, pleased to hear her giggling along with him. How quickly it had come to pass, he thought, that a smiling Saoirse was all the sunshine he needed.
“C’mon.” He clapped his hands together and gave them a quick rub. “I meant what I said. I am completely happy to do this for you. The marriage thing. I know there’ll be times where it will be tough. Days where we probably want to see the backside of each other—but that lends the whole thing a bit more authenticity, right?”
“I happen to have a very nice backside, thank you very much.”
“I know.”
Her cheeks colored as she realized just how recently his hands had been cupping said backside. Just as quickly she feigned a shocked gasp. “You won’t be letting the cat out of the bag, will you? About the blubbing and the feelings and everything? I’ve got a tough-girl image to keep up at work.”
“No, ma’am.” He stood, clicked his heels together and gave a quick salute. “As long as you keep it close to your chest I’ve got a weak spot for...” You.
“Carnitas and zebra hides?” Saoirse suggested.
“Got it in one.” He winked.
Emergency averted. Time to get back on course. Business only. Doing the right thing by someone. Soon. Soon, he’d do the same for his brothers. But that was going to take some staring-into-the-eyes-of-the-firing-squad courage. He didn’t deserve their forgiveness. He didn’t deserve their love. You had to earn that sort of thing and his bank balance in that department was more than likely running on empty.
“Right, Murph.” He stood and gave her a brotherly shoulder hug with a play growl. “Let’s see about getting this barbecue up and running before your pals come back, otherwise it’s raw burgers and E. coli all around.”
“On it.” Saoirse hopped off her stool and headed toward the refrigerator, abruptly screeching to a halt. “Valentino?”
“Yes, Murphy?” he replied formally.
“You are a good friend.”
Friend. He saw the invisible partition being placed between them and instantly wished it gone. Friend. Didn’t seem to sit right somehow.
Well, too bad for him. He’d made his bed and now it was time to lie in it. In the spare room.
“Not everyone would make this big a commitment for nothing. Especially given...you know.” She made a kissy face and a yucky face in quick succession, gave a little decisive nod and started humming as she yanked open the fridge door and started noodling around inside for the hamburger fixings.
He was glad she couldn’t see the sad smile he knew was hitting his face about now. He wanted, more than anything, to be a good friend to Saoirse. He could just as easily see himself wanting a whole lot more. She was a singular woman who deserved to be loved. Love he couldn’t give right now. Until he started tackling the promises he’d made to himself on the blood-soaked battlefields, he was no good to anyone. No one at all.
* * *
“Right.” James eyed them as he would a jury. First Santi, from whom he received a curt nod. Then Saoirse, who had to stop herself from giggling.
“Are the waters muddy or clear on how this whole thing works?”
“Clear!” they said in unison, hands raising as if they had a body between them and were about to deliver an AED shock. Their eyes hooked at the “jinx” and they both dissolved into uncontrolled laughter.
“You’re right, babe.” James leaned over and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. “They are a cute couple. You two won’t have any problems. I see setups come through all the time and I can tell you’re the genuine article.”
Saoirse blinked a minute, trying to register his words. Santi seemed entirely unaffected by them and started peppering James with the best way to clean a barbecue grill.
The genuine article?
Saoirse looked across at Amanda, a veritable halo glowing around her she