Eoin moved through life like a stone wallâ and Cormac had made it his sacred duty to poke at anything that cracked that armor. Family privilege if you will. "Twelve, am I? At least Iâve got the sense to notice when a womanâs worth lookinâ at.â He didn't miss the flicker in Eoin's eyes at the mention of the Doc's nicknameâquick, fierce, gone. Definitely noticed her, he thought, smug. âPlay grumpy brick wall all you want, Eoin but you ainât blind⌠nor dead â yet.â Cormacâs grin came back, unwavering. "Aye, hot doc, feckin' right she is. And I'll say it louder if it gets ye all riled up."
Usually it was him who had the ladies and gents swooning though his ego did take a tiny blow at the fact Balik seemed immune to his charms. Never once did it occur to Cormac he could have been the actual reason the doc didnât smile as much around him but alas. "Woman walks into a room, and itâs like watchinâ a sunrise over the Cliffsâall sunshine and grace. Ye'd be the only one not realizin' it. Never gave me that kinda smile by the way.â
A flicker of somethingâannoyance? amusement?âcrossed Eoin's face, vanished before most would've noticed but enough for Cormac to press on relentlessly. "Or are ye tellin' me ye haven't noticed? Because if that's the case, cousin, I'll be havin' words with the doc myself. Clearly, ye need yer feckin' eyes checked." He leaned back again, satisfaction warming him deeper than the coffee before. "Sharp as a tack, me. And that doc?" He whistled low, shaking his head. "Even I noticed, and Iâm happily married to me pints down at the derry." Watching Eoin squirm was better than the best Irish whiskey and he was enjoying this way too much to let his cousin off just yet.
"Yer ma's wrath? Pfft. Worth seein' ye squirm." His grin didnât falter, though. It never did. It was armor, same as Eoinâs stone-face routine. âAye, tossin' my own shyte back at me now? Classy." He leaned forward again, elbows on the table, the grin turning even more sheepish. "Ah, come off it, Eoin. Shyte looks better? Thatâs rich cominâ from a lad whoâs got more stitches than sense." He waved a dismissive hand, grin stretching. "Feels like yer protestin' a bit much there." Raising a brow, his eyes sparked with challenge. "See, here's the differenceâwhen I look like shyte, it's usually 'cause I've been dancin' with a pretty lass till dawn, not lettin' some ham-fisted eejit use me face as a punchin' bag." Cormac chuckled, low and easy.
He swirled the dregs of his own coffeeâblack as a priest's heartâbefore fixing Eoin with that sideways grin of his. "Listen to ye, actin' all high an' mighty. 'Still on yer feet,' he says. Saw ye wobblin' like a newborn foal after O'Donnell clipped ye last Tuesday. Nearly went arse over teakettle into the ropes, ye did." A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he watched Eoin's jaw tighten. "Admit it. Only reason ye're still standin' is 'cause yer picturin' Doc Balik's hands on ye right now, puttin' ye back together." He winked, the neon glow painting streaks of blue across his cheekbones.
The truth was, he did worry. Saw the toll the fighting took, the way Eoin carried it in his shoulders like sacks of stone. But worrying was boring. And the hitman didn't do boring. So heâd poke, and prod â until the stubborn cousin of his either laughed or swung. Either way, it beat sitting quiet. Christ, the man could make brooding an Olympic sport. Cormacâs eyes sharpened, the mocking edge thinning into something quieter: "But donât go deflectinâ now. I saw ye. Derby night. Shieldinâ the doc like she was the bloody crown jewels. Never seen you do that for anyone. Not even yer favorite cousin - aka me. Right proper knight in tarnished armor, eh?" A mischievous gleam lit his eyes, as he watched Eoinâs faceâthe flicker in those guarded eyes, the way his cousinâs shoulders stiffened just a tad. Oh, heâd hit the mark, alright. Dead center.
Cormacâs voice dropped, teasing but with an edge of knowing. "Maeveâs got eyes everywhere. She finds out weâre both gettinâ our heads caved in for fun?" He shook his head, the grin turning wry. "Sheâll have both our hides. And yoursâll be first on the wall." He shifted his weight, trying to disguise the stiffness in his shoulder. "Last job?" Cormac echoed, his voice dropping into the low register reserved for business. "Nah. Letâs call it an experiment gone a little too well. Or wrong. Depends on how ye look at it."