“Your mum died?” I didn’t want to snoop, but I wanted to help her by sharing a little of her burden of pain. She looked as if she needed someone to do that for her.
“A few months ago.” Her tone was distant, as if she were talking about someone else’s life. As much as I was hurting, I couldn’t even try to imagine how awful and lonely she must feel. “She never really got over losing Aoife, but after Dad left she had to pull herself together to take care of me. She worked two jobs to secure a roof over our heads. Then three years ago she discovered she was sick. Cancer. I was here in Galway, so she didn’t say anything until after I got my degree. By then she’d already started losing her hair, and the doctor said there was nothing else they could do. When I went back home to spend a little time with her, I was welcomed by the fantastic news. I packed up my life and went back to Tralee for good, to be with her.”
I pulled my hands out of my pockets and managed to stop myself just in time, before I did something really stupid. God, I wanted to hug her. I wanted to pull her to my chest and promise I’d take care of her, that I’d make the pain go away. I was being ridiculous. I’d just broken up with my girlfriend; I should be at least a little sad and not at all ready to start another relationship, but when it came to Claire . . . I lost all sense of reason.
She looked up from her hands and gave me a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unburden all my troubles on you. You’re already dealing with an awful lot of things in your own life.”
I shook my head and smiled back at her. “That’s what friends are for, isn’t it? I unload my shit on you and you can do the same on me. Any time.”
She chuckled, and wiped away one last stray tear. Even though I knew this was probably a jackass move, I thought hard for some good reason for spending a little more time with her today. I didn’t want to go home yet, and truth be told, I didn’t want to let her go. Not yet. I liked talking with her—it came naturally, as if we’d known each other much longer than the couple of months we’d been working together.
“I could use a coffee right now. Will you keep me company?” My tone sounded a little too hopeful, but I didn’t care. I knew this was probably a lame invitation, but I really hoped she’d say yes. I wasn’t in the mood for a rejection right now. Especially not from her.
She checked her watch, and bit her bottom lip. Maybe she had to meet someone else? The thought left a sour taste in my mouth, which was really stupid.
“If you have to go, it’s okay. I’ll grab a coffee to-go, don’t worry,” I backpedalled, not wanting her to feel forced to say yes.
She kept teasing her bottom lip, chewing one corner, and I had to look away, staring at my feet because the simple, innocent gesture was sort of turning me on. It was insane.
“I don’t have to be anywhere else, and Ciara is away with Aidan but . . . if I miss the bus coming in ten minutes, I’ll have to wait another two hours for the next one. I should’ve realized buses don’t run that often on Sundays on this side of the town.”
An imaginary burden lifted off my stomach; she didn’t have to be with anyone else. Thank God for that. I frowned at the thought that crossed my mind, but shrugged it off as a better one took its place.
“I can drive you home; it’s no big deal. We could actually go somewhere downtown. I doubt we’ll find a café anywhere open today in this part of the town, anyway.”
She looked at me for a moment, and I prayed to God she’d stop chewing her lip because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to control my actions. No matter how sweet and sexy she looked, I’d just ended a relationship of more than a year. Plus Claire was my colleague, and after the state she’d seen me in on Friday night, I doubted she’d ever want to have anything to do with me. But God help me, she was testing my self-control with that lip chewing.
She smiled, and nodded. “Make it a hot chocolate, and we have a deal.”
I chuckled, stood up from the cold bench and reached out my hand. “Hot chocolate it is.”
She took my hand to shake on it, and I winced when I felt the zap of current shoot up my arm from where our fingers had touched. What the hell was that?
Her eyes went wide, and I knew she’d felt it too. “Sorry. It must be my synthetic running pants.”
I smiled, but I wasn’t so sure that was the real cause. Or maybe it was, and I was simply a little shaken.
We went back to my car, walking side-by-side, careful not to touch again. We made small talk as we headed downtown, and it was only when we were sitting at a table in Java’s café, with steaming hot chocolates in front of us, that she made any reference to our conversation outside the cemetery.
“Tell me something about your brother.” She took a sip from her mug, then looked at me with an adorable smile. It didn’t feel as if she were snooping; she probably only wanted to take a bit of the burden off my chest. Maybe it was just the state of mind I was in, but I wanted to talk about him with Claire. I really did.
“He was really good looking,” I said, and her smile grew wider, making me want to tell her all about him, but I knew it would be a bad move. She’d already seen me drunk; she didn’t need to think I was crazy, too. So I decided to stick to the trivial details. “His eyes were closer to Kathy’s shade than mine, more ocean-blue than silver, and his hair was darker. He’d always been the target of girls in school. They all wanted to be with him.” I couldn’t help smiling at the memory of girls chasing after him, even before we’d become interested in the opposite sex. “Which, as you can guess, caused a bit of sibling rivalry at the time.”
Claire chuckled, and I took a sip of my own chocolate. I instinctively licked my upper lip to remove any chocolate moustache, and I saw her staring at my mouth for a second before she blinked and concentrated on her mug.
“He used to steal all the nice girls from me. They all wanted to be seen with him, and I was always second best. I was happy when he decided to attend university in Dublin.”
“Kathy said he lived in New York?”
I nodded. I still felt a pang of envy about that. If Declan hadn’t died, I’d have been there too by now. But living in New York had lost its appeal after my brother left us.
“He went there after he finished university. He got a job as a journalist in a magazine. Kathy was going to go with him, too. The day of the accident, they were headed to the airport.”
Claire brought a hand to her heart, and I found myself following the movement—and ended up staring at her breasts under that stretchy, long-sleeved top she had underneath her hoodie. Strange, I hadn’t noticed how cute her small breasts were.
Jaisus, stop ogling her boobs, O’Hagan!
I forced my eyes away from her hand—yes, that was what I was staring at: her long fingers. I almost nodded to prove my point, but I stopped when I realized it would look stupid.
Claire didn’t say anything, and I took the chance to keep on talking—so I’d stop ogling her . . . um . . . fingers.
“After he moved to New York, I really missed him. When he was still in Dublin, he’d come home on the weekends, or I’d go to spend a couple of days with him, so I really didn’t feel the emptiness. But once he moved to the other side of the ocean, it was tough.” I shrugged, as a lump formed in my throat. “Sure, with Skype and e-mails it wasn’t as if we didn’t stay in touch, but when he managed to come home for Christmas or on a few days during the summer, I usually stuck to him like a Siamese twin. He didn’t seem to mind, though. We’d always had a strong sibling bond, well, except when he stole all the girls.”
I grinned and Claire smiled back at me, wrapping her fingers around her mug. Long fingers. Very nice, long fingers. Not as obsessively manicured as Michelle’s—no flashy nail polish, or French-whatever, but they were naturally beautiful. I wondered what they would feel like stroking my face, or my bare chest.
Get a grip, O’Hagan. Fantasizing over a girl’s fingers? Seriously?
“If Aoife hadn’t died, I would’ve probably had the same problem as you,” s
he said with a girlie giggle, bringing me back from my musing. My eyebrows shot up.
“She was so beautiful—a Shirley Temple lookalike, with wheat-blond curls, blue eyes and a pretty button nose. She’d taken Dad’s eyes and hair, while I took Mum’s eyes. Not sure where the ugly red hair comes from, though. Probably some ancestors or something.”
“I love red hair,” I blurted out without realizing the implications this comment would have. I wished I could kick myself, especially when she quirked an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, you don’t need to be polite. I’ve always hated it, so it’s no big deal. My mum used to say it made me special, different from everyone else. That’s why I’ve never dyed it. I didn’t want to disappoint her.” She shrugged and fidgeted with the spoon in her mug. God, I wanted to hug her.
“I’m not saying it out of politeness; I really like natural red hair. And the unusual combination with brown eyes makes it special; your mother was right about that.”
“Next you’ll tell me you love freckles, too,” she challenged, smiling shyly without meeting my eyes.
I grinned. “I do. Very much, actually.”
Okay, now I was flirting, and this wasn’t appropriate. At all. We weren’t on the university grounds, but we were still colleagues at the end of the day, and I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable around me. I wanted us to be friends. I needed her around.
Huh?
“Whatever.” She took a sip of her chocolate, cleaned the mug with her spoon and dropped it back inside. I took it as my cue to finish my own drink, pay and leave. At least that was what her body language was telling me. I gulped down my chocolate, and she stood, reaching inside her little purse and handing me a fiver. I took out my wallet, and shook my head.
“My treat.”
She tried to insist, but she didn’t know how mulish I could get. “Call me old-fashioned, but there’s no way I’ll let a woman pay when she’s in my company. Besides, I’ve messed up your schedule and made you miss the bus to endure my babbling; it’s the least I can do.”
She chuckled. “It was actually you who listened to my babbling, but I appreciate your good manners anyway. Thank you.”
We walked back to my car and, as I drove her home neither of us talked. Even so, the silence was comfortable. With Michelle, a silent ride in the car meant she was either pissed or getting ready to pick a fight. With Claire, silence felt good, natural.
I didn’t like where my mind was going. I couldn’t feel so comfortable around a girl I barely knew, while I hadn’t been this comfortable with my ex-long-term-girlfriend in . . .
I froze.
Ever.
I realized I’d never been this comfortable with Michelle, not even when we started dating and we were starry-eyed and hopeful. And definitely not in the last few months.
Shit. I was in trouble. I couldn’t let myself fall for this girl. Not yet. And probably not until the school year was over. She needed her job, and I needed a clean reputation. Besides, I wasn’t even sure if she considered me just a friendly colleague or maybe a friend—possibly I was nothing more than that to her, even though she’d opened up with me about her sister.
Damn, I was supposed to be recovering from a heartbreak, from my relationship ending only two days ago, not entertaining romantic thoughts about a girl I worked with. What would she think of me if I came on to her forty-eight hours after breaking up with my girlfriend? Probably that I was a player and that all I wanted was to use her to get over Michelle. Obviously she couldn’t know that I hadn’t been happy with Michelle in weeks, but the last thing I wanted was for her to have a poor opinion of me. I wanted her to see the real me, the person hardly anyone got to know, and I wanted her to like that man. I didn’t know why it mattered so much that she would, but deep down in my heart something told me that she wouldn’t call me crazy, that she would understand.
“David, you just passed my house.”
I stomped on the brakes, causing the seatbelt to tighten around my chest. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” No, you weren’t, you idiot.
“No problem.” She let out an adorable giggle, and I wanted to smack my head on the steering wheel.
I put the car in reverse, checked the rearview mirror, and stopped right in front of her house. She turned to say goodbye and I had to start counting backwards from one hundred to prevent my mind from conjuring images of us kissing.
“Well, thanks for the hot chocolate and the ride.” She smiled sheepishly, and I wondered if she’d been thinking about the same thing, or if she expected me to kiss her.
Sorry, cutie pie, not gonna happen. Not yet.
“No problem. Um . . . one last thing.” I scratched the back of my neck as I stared at her.
Her eyebrows knitted together and I could swear she got even cuter than before.
Breathe, David. Breathe, and think of that old, grumpy librarian instead.
“About the other night . . . you know… when I was a little… um…”
“Wasted?” she finished for me, and I hung my head, smiling. When I looked up, her toffee-colored eyes held a hint of irony, and I was glad she didn’t seem disgusted by my behavior.
“To put it mildly, but yeah, wasted. Well, I just wanted you to know that I don’t usually get drunk, but I’d had a rough night and . . .”
“Yes, I know. You told me.”
I frowned. Huh? Exactly what have I told her? Oh, shit. Please let it not be something I’d never be able to fix.
“You said you hadn’t gotten that drunk since your brother died,” she said, and I let out a sigh of relief in my mind, trying not to let it show. “You really don’t have to give me any explanation, but you were entitled to go a little overboard: I understand it must’ve been tough breaking up with your girlfriend.”
“It wasn’t that,” I said, and cringed when I realized how shallow I’d sound if I told her I didn’t care that things with Michelle had ended. “I mean, not completely. We had a bad break-up, one of those where she’d probably throw a shoe at me if she ever saw me across the street from her, but it wasn’t the reason why I exceeded a little with the alcohol. I just . . .”
“David.” She put a hand on my arm, and even through the thick layer of my coat and my sweater underneath it, I could feel the warmth of her touch. It was . . . comforting. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay. Nothing happened. I’m just glad that Ciara and I happened to pass by and we could stop you from doing something stupid. Something that could’ve caused a great amount of pain to your family.”
My throat constricted, and God help me, I wanted to kiss her senseless. How could such a wonderful girl have dated such a gigantic arsehole like that rugby player? She deserved someone who’d love her for all the beautiful little things that made her stand out from the rest of the female population—at least the Galway one.
Someone like me.
An invisible hand wrapped around my throat and squeezed as soon as the thought had formed in my brain. Not the right time to go there, O’Hagan.
“Well, I honestly don’t remember much about what happened after I got out of the pub, so if I said something stupid or offensive, I hope you’ll understand I wasn’t myself.” I scratched my chin and stared at her from underneath my lashes, putting on my best good-boy expression. “I apologize for whatever I said.”
She stiffened, but plastered a fake smile on her face as she shook her head and reassured me everything was okay. Oh, no. I did say something bad. Shit, shit, shit!
“I’d better go now. I’m sure Robbie needs a walk after being inside all morning.” She reached for the door handle, opened it and turned back one last time before getting out of the car. “Thanks again for the ride home.”
She closed the door and I watched her as she power-walked toward her house, jumping up the steps as if they were on fire. I stared at her pretty, toned butt while she opened the door, and when she closed it behind her, I lingered a few more seconds, hoping she’d come back out, run to
my car and tell me she’d forgotten to kiss me goodbye.
Yep, I was a goner.
Chapter Fifteen
Claire
All the way to the front door I forced myself not to turn around and go back to David’s car. Although I’d known all along that it had been the alcohol speaking and it wasn’t what he really thought, a tiny part of myself had hoped that he would remember calling me beautiful. That he would remember looking at me with “puppy eyes”, quoting Ciara’s words. Instead, he’d barely remembered Ciara and me being around, and everything else had been just a few blurred, alcoholic-induced moments.
Too bad I hadn’t stopped thinking about what he’d said to me that night, the way he’d said it, as if he’d really meant it, as if he’d really liked me, and I hadn’t stopped dreaming of the moment we’d meet and he’d tell me his feelings for me. Something along the lines of “I left my girlfriend because I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” or “You’re the girl I’ve been waiting for all my life”—silly romantic stuff like that. How stupid of me.
I closed the door behind me and slid to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest as the sobs started. Ciara wouldn’t be back until late tonight, so I didn’t have to keep pretending I was fine. To keep pretending David’s nearness didn’t cause my heart to go into overdrive. To keep pretending that my unrequited love wasn’t killing me, because it was. Every day I fell deeper for him, and after the chat we’d had today, the way we’d opened up with each other and how easy and comfortable I’d felt talking about Aoife and my mum with a stranger, I knew I had fallen head over heels in love with him.
After what had happened with Peter the first time, I’d promised myself I’d never let another man fool me with his charm, and I’d kept my guard up for two years. All it had taken was a pair of silver-blue eyes and a few kind words from him, and I’d been helpless.
Something nudged my ankle and I gave a start. Robbie sat on his haunches next to me, staring at me with those adorable round dark eyes that seemed to show concern. I reached out my hand and he licked my palm, then jumped onto my lap and stood up with his front paws against my collarbone, licking my chin. I was grateful I had him.
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