Page 118 of Donovan's Men

“Oh, we’re holding hands.” Donovan also put on gloves. “But let’s go. Now.”

More command.

And obliging him made me happy.

Go figure.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hamish

I wasn’t surprised Donovan put Tyson between the two of us as we walked along the waterfront. We three held hands as we headed east. Last night’s threatened snow had never materialized, and the clouds had cleared—blown away by the brisk wind.

The sun had climbed high enough that we weren’t looking directly into its glare. Still, the morning was so bright I wished I’d worn my sunglasses. On the other hand, if I had, I wouldn’t be enjoying as much sun on my face. I stumbled.

Tyson righted me. “You watching where you’re going?”

“No.” I pointed between two massive office towers toward the sun. “Enjoying nature.”

Concrete, noise, and general chaos surrounded us. Or what I thought of as chaos. I always walked to and from my office with purpose—I wasn’t a creature of the city. Which was a ridiculous thought since I lived here. When I’d been out at the cabin, north of Mission City—with my men—I’d felt the tranquility of the rural area. I sighed. “I wish I could live in the country.”

“We could get a weekend place.” Donovan glanced between me and Tyson. “Up in the interior somewhere. I’m down for rustic.”

“Like with outhouses and no internet?” Tyson grinned. “I can’t see it.”

“Well, try.” Donovan encouraged us to resume our journey.

“We’d need to pool our resources. I think.” I frowned. “I mean, I don’t have enough spare cash. Although if I took out a mortgage…” The thought of more debt, when I’d only just paid off my place, daunted me.

“Coffee now. Accommodation discussions later.” At Donovan’s imperious tone, Tyson snickered.

Or at least that’s what I assumed. I managed to suppress my laughter.

We located the little shop I loved and headed inside.

My ears burned as they warmed. The day might be warmer than yesterday, but the thing was still bloody cold.Should’ve worn a hat.True. But while Donovan pulled off the look, I’d just have looked dorky with hair sticking out.

As if on cue, Donovan removed his toque and shoved it into his coat pocket.

We secured our drinks and headed to a secluded corner.

Tyson opted for a ceramic mug, and I winced at my tea in a to-go cup. Donovan’d grabbed some kind of green concoction.

“I thought you wanted caffeine.” I eyed the bottle.

He held up the label for my inspection.

Caffeine-infused.

“And green.” I laughed. “Only you.”

“So I guess it’s my turn.” Tyson spoke quietly.

We pivoted our attention to him.

He didn’t look up.

Donovan pressed his uncovered hand to Tyson’s. “When you’re ready.”