Page 15 of Captured by the Billionaire Cowboy (The Secret Billionaires #7)

“ T hat’s not a meal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It most definitely is not.”

“What do you think it is?”

“A crime.”

Ciara made a face as she leaned back on the puffy green cushion.

They sat in a corner booth at The Bread Bowl, an old-fashioned restaurant with emerald and white lace tablecloths, brightly colored tiles and a miniature harp on every table, a homage to the symbol of Ireland and its rich musical history.

The walls were crafted of exposed brick, with a giant gap exposing chefs who kneaded dough with expert efficiency.

It was a place where people enjoyed life’s little pleasures, where old and new friends talked, laughed and ate.

The scent of fresh bread hovered in the air, that delectable combination of flour and buttermilk.

Only in this cafe, unique flavors and scents mingled with the expected aromas.

Ciara had just been served a buttery bowl, this time devoid of tortilla chips, jelly and French fries in lieu of a more traditional Irish stew of well-cooked potatoes, bright orange carrots, thick onions slices and a hearty assortment of traditional spices.

It was home and hearth in a meal, a warm comfort food that reminded her of snuggling next to a warm fireplace during a snowy evening. Pure perfection.

Rowan had chosen a slightly different option. “There’s the bread.” He pointed at something bread-like peeking out under the copious amounts of romaine, spinach and kale. “You can see it just fine.”

“That isn’t even actual bread. It’s made of cauliflower. It doesn’t count.”

“It has butter.”

“Extra, extra, extra light butter,” she quoted his order. “You insulted butter everywhere.”

“Surely I said extra only once.”

“Nope, it was three times. I counted,” Quinn corroborated as he prepared to eat a double stacked bread bowl piled high with fried onion rings and cheese-flavored Tayto crisps.

Next to him, Davey had already dug into his tortilla, jelly and French fry-covered bread bowl, a homage to her childhood favorite.

Rowan lifted an eyebrow at the unhealthy yet delicious options. He held up his fork. “I eat healthy to stay in shape.”

“It’s working,” Ciara replied automatically. She closed her eyes, opened them to three bemused grins. “I mean it’s important to eat healthy. For your… um… health.”

Well, that was smooth.

“Of course,” Rowan replied suavely, and Ciara heated even more. No doubt she resembled the heart-shaped beets topping Rowan’s bread… er… cauliflower bowl.

Laughter broke out at a table across the room, drawing Ciara’s attention. At first, she smiled at the young adults who were giggling and having a good time, until she saw one point at her table. No, not at her table.

At Davey.

Davey took a big bite of the crusty bowl. The group mimicked him, making exaggerated gestures, while the others laughed. Rowan narrowed his eyes, while Quinn and Spencer frowned severely. Then Davey looked up. At first, he had the big grin she recognized as his trademark expression.

Then his expression shattered .

She’d never seen the gentle soul so sad. As his eyes sheened in the amber light, she rose, and without conscious thought, strode to the table of revelers. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she demanded.

Four people stared at her in shock. The gawky, thin man who’d mocked Davey opened and closed his mouth like a floundering fish, while the others looked on in guilt. For how loud they were earlier, no one uttered a word now.

“Do any of you–” Ciara allowed her gaze to rest on each one, as they flushed bright red. “Understand the consequences of your actions? Why would you hurt someone you don’t even know?”

For a moment, they stayed silent, eyes widened, mouths opened. Then a young woman with blond ringlets stammered, “We were just playing around. We didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I noticed,” Ciara snapped. “His brothers noticed. But worst of all, he noticed. When Davey came in, he was ecstatic. Now he’s horrified.”

“He understood?” She looked stricken.

“Of course, he understood,” Ciara retorted. “Just because he’s different doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings. You hurt his. A lot. Think about how you would feel if a group of strangers mocked you.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said quietly. “We didn’t realize.” The others mumbled apologies, turning away to study their food, the floor and everything but Davey.

Ciara sighed, as the anger drained away, leaving sorrow and the determination to change things.

“Just think about it,” she said earnestly.

“And next time, consider how your actions affect others.” They nodded, and she pivoted, slowing her steps as she returned to the table.

She took a deep breath, fighting through the turmoil.

She hated confrontations, but she couldn’t let them hurt Davey.

The brothers were locked in quiet conversation, Rowan and Spencer each with a hand on Davey’s back.

They stopped talking when she arrived, their expressions intense in their own way.

Quinn and Spencer’s were clouded in anger, but Rowan just stared at her, his emotions ever-hidden.

Even the usually affable Davey sat in uncharacteristic somberness.

She sank down in the plush seat and placed her napkin over her food. She waited for someone to speak, anyone to break the silence. She wouldn’t share what she’d said, at least not in front of Davey. She wouldn’t hurt him more.

So instead she would bring up one of his favorite subjects. She opened her mouth to ask about his last bowling game when she stopped. He wore the same somber expression, but a single tear trailed silently down his cheek.

“Oh honey.” She scooted out of her seat and moved next to him, kneeling down so they were eye level. “Don’t let them get to you. When someone does something hurtful, it says something about them, not you.”

He nodded, yet his dejected expression remained. If only she could extinguish the hurt, undo the pain. “Can I give you a hug?” she asked softly.

At his nod, she enveloped him in a gentle embrace. Even though he was smaller than his giant brothers, he was still far larger than her, yet he held himself carefully, softly returning the hug. When he drew back, his expression was calmer.

Spencer patted him on the back. “We’re here for you, buddy.”

“They’re not worth your time,” Quinn rumbled. “The best way to defeat bullies is to ignore them.”

Rowan grasped his shoulders. “We all love you.”

Ciara inhaled a breath of pure satisfaction. So there was one person to whom Rowan could admit his true feelings.

“You got it wrong.” Davey wiped the tear away, the brightness returning to his eyes. “I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?” they asked in unison.

“Well, I was.” Davey jerked his head towards the now somber group, who were hurriedly packing their belongings. “They weren’t very nice, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

Ciara’s heart shuddered. Even though his brothers treated him well, others made insensitive comments, sometimes without even realizing it. Even if they weren’t intentionally cruel, actions hurt. “Next time, tell us when someone is mean to you.”

Davey shook his head. “Usually, it’s not such a big deal. I know you guys always support me.” He squeezed Ciara’s hand. “Even though you’re not family, you stood up for me. That made me happy.”

Ciara’s heart melted, just a little. “You got emotional because of me?”

He nodded shyly.

“I think that deserves another hug.” Another warm embrace, and the world was a little lighter.

They returned to their food, Ciara’s appetite restored, as they talked and laughed and shared stories, conversing about everything from the horse rescue to their childhoods.

More than once, Rowan glanced at her, his expression searching.

In that short time, Ciara learned something else about him.

Even if he only admitted it to Davey, clearly he loved all his brothers, and they loved him.

They didn’t realize how many stories showcased their bond, how they defended each other, supported each other, cared for each other.

She felt a pang of longing for her own sister, and promised herself she would call later.

After having their fill, they sat back, each with the same expression of satisfaction mixed with the slight discomfort of having eaten too much.

Before they could pay for their meal, a middle-aged woman with short salt and pepper hair approached the table, carrying a tray of five chocolate fudge sundaes.

It was the house specialty: creamy Baileys Irish Cream ice cream covered in thick chocolate, a generous dollop of whipped cream and three cherries each.

Suddenly, Ciara wasn’t as full. “I’m sorry. There’s been a mistake. We didn’t order these.”

“I know.” With a practiced touch, the woman placed a sundae in front of each person. Davey’s eyes widened at the creamy concoction, and the other men blinked. “They’re on the house.”

“On the house?” Rowan sat up, as Davey tapped him on the shoulder. He nodded absently to his brother, who picked up his spoon and dug in, then sighed in pure bliss.

“Because of her.” The woman held out her hand to Ciara. “I’m Kay Baxter. My husband and I own The Bread Bowl.”

Ciara accepted the firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you. I used to come here when I was a kid. I’m thrilled to visit again.”

“And I’m thrilled to have you.” The proprietress moved closer, lowered her voice. “I heard what you said to those people, and I applaud you. I would’ve said something myself if I’d realized.”

Ciara flushed. “Thank you, but I really didn’t do anything.”