His Cajun accent took me by surprise. I didn’t realize I hadn’t heard him speak before. In every interview I’d ever seen, Killian was the one who answered every question. I knew he had a sexy English accent, but Cajun? Whew! It’s every bit as hot. My shock over the sound of his voice is the only excuse I can muster for not realizing immediately we weren’t alone. I want to fan my face even thinking about it. Killian slid onto the bench, filling the spot next to me. Before I had time to react, I was tucked beneath his arm. He said, ‘It’s bloody cold out here to be alone.’ Not, it’s bloody cold out here to be without a coat, or even, it’s bloody dangerous for a woman out here alone, but it’s bloody cold to be out here alone—like an invitation. Lyric took up the empty spot on the opposite side of me. Squeezed between them, I couldn’t get my voice to work. I’m not sure what I expected. Most likely, the shock was too much for me to expect anything at all. No matter what I thought, I didn’t make it home that night or the night after.
