She smiled at the change of subject, lifting her bottle in toast. "I would toast to yours but I am betting I would get one of those looks," she admitted, trying to smile, to be lighthearted, to not be that hurt and broken woman she felt so often.

She fell quiet, taking a drink, her gaze falling to the wide expanse of his chest before snapping up to his face. Not because she was checking him out but because of something else entirely.

"Is this about the Irish supposedly building up a stronghold? I thought you were done with them?" Of course, all the name's associated was the Irish but no one knew who was behind it with dad and son gone. Of course then she realized she had just admitted to Frank she was looking into it as well. Shit.