Lost Cause (A Daisy Dunlop Mystery ~ Book 1)

Chapter Four

Daisy woke to the gentle sound of Paul snoring. She propped herself up on one elbow and watched him. He was beautiful when he was sleeping. The young soldier who'd swept her off her feet when she was still a teenager had grown to be a wonderful husband, considerate lover, and the greatest thing to ever happen in her life. She sighed. Paul deserved better. She should tell him about her trip to Langdon College. Lying to him, even by omission, was never a good idea. He'd been a military policeman, and no doubt knew a million ways to torture the truth out of someone. Not that he would ever torture her. The disappointment and the hurt in his eyes would be punishment enough once he found out the truth.

As if he sensed he was being watched his eyelids flickered. The blue eyes that had dazzled her the first time they met appeared from beneath his thick dark lashes.

"Morning, beautiful." The smile that slowly turned up his mouth was sexy and full of wanton desire.

He reached up and brushed his thumb over her bruised cheek.

"I need to tell you about what happened yesterday."

"No need."

"Really?"

"Solomon called."

"I bet he did. I can explain."

"Nothing to explain, beautiful. It wouldn't be the first time you'd tripped wearing those stupid boots. Although I prefer you don't smash your face into a car door next time."

She frowned. What the hell was Solomon playing at? He'd had the perfect opportunity to get rid of her and instead he'd made up a bullshit story to cover up what had really happened.

She should tell Paul the truth. She should. But then maybe it would be better to find out what Solomon's game was first. What did she even know about the Irish git? Other than he liked to handcuff women at every opportunity. "Paul?"

He scrubbed a hand through his short dark hair. "Daisy?"

"You're not worried about me, are you?"

"Do I need to be?"

"I was just wondering with my new venture. I'm not always...you know, very successful."

"Ah...you mean am I worried because in the past every other business idea went up in smoke, and in the case of the fish-and-chip shop, I mean literally went up in smoke?"

"Mr. Singh did say leaving the fat fryer on at the end of the shift was an easy mistake to make. And he got the insurance money so he didn't need to sell the business to me after all."

"And you didn't want to own it once you realized you had no aptitude, so it worked out for everyone."

"Exactly."

"And what was the upside to the time you wanted us to buy a pub and went working as a bar maid while I was stationed in Germany?"

Daisy wrinkled her nose. "It taught me that when a biker grabs your arse, and your husband's best mate starts a near riot over it, a pool cue is a handy weapon to use if you want to slow men down. Apparently hairy bikers don't find playing pool as much fun when you use their testicles instead of the white ball to try and pot the black."

Paul ran a finger over the one-inch scar on the right side of Daisy's forehead. "Lucky Solomon was there to rescue you, pool cue or not."

"I didn't need him to hit the guy. I could have handled it without the stitches, and the hours in police custody. I also didn't need to be handcuffed to our kitchen sink by Solomon until I agreed to give up my dream job."

"Solomon apologized for overreacting at the pub, and for chaining you up. He's a little intense and takes any task he's given very seriously." Paul pulled her down on top of him and kissed the top of her head. "Besides if you were stuck in a pub now how could you be an heir hunter?"