by Nashoda Rose
Then he watched.
It was as if suddenly the air was sucked out of the pub by a high-powered vacuum and I couldn’t breathe. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention like little soldiers saluting, and my skin tingled.
Footsteps approached.
Booted footsteps. And it wasn’t just one set; it was two. Or, I thought it was two, but I couldn’t be sure because I was kinda seeing double, so maybe I was hearing double, too.
Ally loudly whispered, “Uh-oh,” and then, “holy shit, he has a combat-boot wearing friend.”
Nope. I wasn’t hearing double.
Okay, I could handle this. I could handle him. I was tipsy, but not drunk.
He is just a guy, Eva.
A totally delicious, sexy guy with an attitude who kissed every inch of my body, but he’s still just a guy.
In college, I’d survived Professor “intimidator” Graham’s anatomy class and did it with an A. But more importantly, I survived my ex-boyfriend Curran Carrick.
I could handle one Deaglan Kane.
The booted feet stopped beside our booth.
I didn’t have to look at him to know he was pissed. Even drunk I felt the anger waft off him in molecular heat waves. Maybe I was too drunk to be scared, but for some reason, he didn’t scare me.
I inhaled a deep breath, produced a smile, and looked at him. He was a little fuzzy, but the supremely sexy Deaglan was all there in his sculpted magnificence.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, considering the guy just did it for me, but I’d hoped after a few glasses of wine my insides wouldn’t light up like a meteor the second I laid eyes on him.
They did. And not just any meteor. One that raced toward Earth in a fireball of heat.
“Oh, heeeyyy,” I said. “Fancy seein’ you here.”
His brows lifted. “Fancy?” he repeated.
It wasn’t a word I’d normally use, my mom would. “Oh, aren’t those fancy shoes?” “Isn’t that a fancy house?” She loved the word fancy because she liked fancy things.
My dad did not. He was practical and liked non-fancy things like white dishes, white walls, paper towels without the faded imprints of flowers on them. But he got the paper towel with the imprints because he hadn’t been around enough to say otherwise.
“Yep, a fancy pub,” I said.
It so wasn’t a fancy pub. There were old metal signs nailed to the peeling green wallpaper and every table wobbled. I knew this because Ally and I had sat at every table in this place over the last two years.
I looked at his friend and squinted. “Oh. I know you.” He was with that woman with the pink streaks in her hair who owned a couple of coffee shops.
His lip twitched. “Deck,” he said.
“Oh, right. Deck.”
“I’m Ally,” Ally piped in.
Deck’s nod was barely a nod, more like a subtle chin dip while his gaze shifted to the bar.
Deaglan glanced over at the bar, too. “Bartender going to give us trouble, babe?”
I leaned forward, sloshing my wine on the table. Deaglan reached out and snagged it from me.
“Bartender?” he asked.
Right. I looked past the two men and saw Evan intently watching us. I turned back to Deaglan. “Are you gonna do something he doesn’t like?”
“Depends,” he replied.
Shit. I didn’t like that answer. “On?”
“On whether you’re going to do what I say.”
My insides coiled. I didn’t like that answer either. I’d never be a man’s puppet again. Never.
Ally said, “We’ve been drinking.”
Deck grunted at the same time as Deaglan said, “Got that.”
She continued, “So, what she says can’t be used against her tomorrow.”
I totally loved Ally.
“Let’s hit the bar,” Deck said to Ally.
She glanced at me to make sure I was good with that and I nodded. She slid out of the booth and followed Deck to the bar.
Deaglan didn’t waste time. “You ignored my texts.”
I had. I did. “Huh, did you text?”
A mild smirk appeared as his arm draped the back of the booth behind me. “And you ignored my calls.”
“Silent feature. I was working.” God, he smelled like strawberries dipped in melted chocolate sauce. How was that even possible?
His brows lifted. “Mmm. Or silent treatment.”
I sputtered, laughing. “I’m not in high school.”
“You’re acting like it.”
“I’m soooo not.”
“You are.”
“Not.”
“You’re drunk.”
I am. “How did you find me?”
“I told you, I find people.”
“I don’t like that,” I muttered. I should’ve shut up then, but I didn’t because I babbled when I drank. “You got my number… and you’re here. Why are you here when it’s a mistake and now it’s turned into another mistake and I’m not doing that again and this isn’t fair because you are in my head like a stupid…” I gnawed on my lower lip as I thought about it, but I couldn’t think of anything logical. Probably because my head was swimming in an ocean of red wine. “…bug.”
He coughed with a hint of a grin as if he was trying not to grin. “A bug?”
I nodded. “Yep. You’re a bug.”
This time he did grin. “Like a ladybug?”
I snorted. “No. Like a cockroach.”
He chuckled. “Baby, you’re a cute drunk. But you need to go home before you face smack the table.”
I index-fingered him in the chest. “I don’t do what you have to say. Not anymore and I’m staying.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I do know your drunk off your ass.” He glanced down at my palm now resting on his chest. I snatched it away.
I pursed my lips and glared, although I wasn’t sure how much of a glare it was because squinting made everything disappear, and when everything disappeared, my head spun. “I’m not drunk. I’m tipsy.”
“You’re drunk and I’m taking you home.”
“I’m not going with you, and you know what? I don’t like you very much because you didn’t let me go pee before I left, and that’s a rule, you know. You can’t kick a girl out without letting her go pee first.” He grinned and that pissed me off even more. I inhaled a deep, ragged breath. “And you’re not hot at all.” I slurred the outright lie.
“Jesus Christ, how much did you drink?”
“And I still don’t like you even if you think I’m sexy and rare.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“Don’t be obsuse…obus.”
“Obtuse?” he offered.
I raised my chin as I glowered at him. “I know big words, you know. Very big and you don’t know what they mean.” I stretched my arms out wide. “Big ones.”
His brows lifted. “Go ahead. Try me.”
Wine and words sloshed around in my head as I racked my brain for a medical word. I smiled. “Spheno… palatine ganglion… euralgia.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
I scrunched my nose. “You suck.”
“I do suck. Hard. Soft. And really, really deep. You know this, pet.”
I did. My lower region tweaked, and a moan escaped at the memory. Oh God. I needed to get away. Far, far away. Like down the rabbit hole with Alice and woodland. Woodland? No, Wonderland.
His hand slipped in mine. “Let’s go.”
My lips quavered as I blew out a puff of air between them. I was tired of arguing and coming up with words and wanted to curl up in a ball and fall into a dreamless sleep.
“Fine,” I mumbled. “But only because I want to.”
He chuckled.
Deck and Ally appeared beside the booth. “I’ll drive Ally home. She’s not far from my place.”
Ally smiled ear to ear, her gaze ping-ponging between Deaglan and me. She mouthed
the word “fling” before she said, “Deck paid the tab.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Ally shook her head. “I wouldn’t.”
“You can’t go with him. You don’t even know him,” I said to Ally. “We should go together.” Because being alone with Deaglan wasn’t a good idea in my current, inebriated state.
“Deck’s cool,” Ally said. I saw Deck’s lip tug upward in the corner. “His wife Georgie owns the coffee shop near my house. I go there all the time.”
“Oh.” Shit.
“Won’t find a better guy than Deck, Eva,” Deaglan said.
He slid from the booth, taking me with him. My bruised ribs protested, but it wasn’t as bad as this morning. Or, it could be the fact that I was feeling no pain.
The room spun as I stood and Deaglan’s arm slipped around my waist before I spin-wheeled to the ground. “I think I drank too much.”
He made that little mmm sound that was delicious and sexy and made my belly flip.
“Hey, Eva, you good?” Evan called while walking toward us.
“Not really,” I mumbled as I sagged against Deaglan’s side.
“She’s good,” Deaglan replied.
“Rather hear it from her,” Evan replied in a curt tone. His gaze sliced to Deck and Ally and back to me and Deaglan. “Ally says you know these guys?”
I nodded. Whoa, too much head movement. “But I don’t like him very much.”
“We’re fine, Evan. Thanks,” Ally said.
Evan moved in and put his hand on my forearm. “Eva?”
Deaglan stiffened, or at least I think he did. I smiled up at Evan. “You’re a good guy.”
“Thanks, sweetie. You okay leaving with him?”
I peered up at Deaglan, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at Evan and it wasn’t friendly. “He’s trying to find the bad guys.”
Evan frowned. “What bad guys?”
“Appreciate your concern, but she’s good with me,” Deaglan said.
I put my hand to my head as the room violently spun. “I don’t feel well.”
“Go,” Ally said. “I’ll talk to Evan and explain.”
We walked, or rather, he walked and I stumbled, toward the door. “Let’s get you home, baby.”
Did he say baby? No. My head was all messed up. “Because you know where I live,” I muttered.
“Mmmm, I do. And I didn’t like finding out your neighbor was charged with cocaine possession last year. And your other neighbor is a drug dealer.”
I knew this, but how did Deaglan know this? “Mrs. Handerlin across the road has dogs that bark for hours when she passes out and leaves them on the back patio, and Mr. Cavendish’s cat Ricky, but I call him Garfield, wanders from house to house and meows looking for food, so I give him tuna.”
A raspy chuckle and a light squeeze of his fingers on my hip.
Deaglan half-carried me to his car that was illegally parked outside the pub. He helped me onto the plush, black leather seats, then leaned over me, and before I could object, he grabbed the seat belt, drew it across my lap and snapped it in place.
The door clicked closed, and I watched him walk around the front of the car. He folded into the driver seat and the engine purred to life.
I groaned, closing my eyes while leaning my head back as my stomach rolled. “I don’t feel that great,” I mumbled.
“If you’re going to throw up. Tell me,” he said.
My eyes flicked open for a second before closing again. “I never throw up.” And that would be utterly mortifying in front of him.
But my stomach had other ideas, and five minutes later he yanked over the car and I threw up on the side of the road.
Deaglan held my hair back as I did it.
I woke to the sun filtering through the window and my hand to my head, wondering if it was possible for a head to implode after too much red wine.
What was I thinking last night? I’m a responsible drinker. Mostly.
Girls’ nights at Charlotte’s farm with Kendra and Ally didn’t count because it wasn’t in public. The last time I drank like that was when Ally and I graduated nursing school.
Shots of rye whiskey and Beam Me Up Scotties led to singing on stage with a band. I was a horrible singer, but that night I thought I was really good, so good I told Ally I was joining the band.
I pulled the duvet up farther and tucked it under my chin.
My duvet cover was artichoke green with embossed flowers. It came with matching pillowcases with frills and a set of soft cotton sheets. I had an abundance of decorative pillows, and at the end of the bed was a soft white throw blanket that Charlotte bought me last year for my birthday. She’d also bought me a pink vibrator that she’d hid inside the blanket. When I unwrapped it, the vibrator fell to the floor and, to my utter horror, landed at my dad’s feet.
I threw back the covers and grit my teeth as my ribs and head protested any and all quick movements. God, how was I going to pull a twelve-hour shift later today?
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood.
Crap, too fast.
I glanced down at myself. What was I wearing?
A light blue T-shirt. The one I’d left on the top of the dresser because I never wore it and was planning to add it to the bag of clothes I was donating to the Salvation Army.
Panties. No pajama pants. I always slept in pajama pants, usually the ones with the yellow sunflowers that were way too long and pooled on the floor at my feet.
What happened last night? Did I get undressed? How did I get…
The avalanche of memories crashed down on me. Irish pub. Irish stud. And the words sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia.
Shit, I’d said that last night. I can’t believe I said that.
Deaglan. He drove me home.
Oh God, I threw up in the street while he held my hair back.
Heat blazed my cheeks.
My only consolation was I didn’t do it in his car. At least, I didn’t think I did.
I remembered waking when he asked about my keys, and then he carried me inside and put me in bed.
Deaglan put me in bed.
I moaned. Shit.
I slipped on my pajama pants that were folded in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I needed a carafe of coffee and an endless jug of water. Although, hooking myself to an intravenous drip sounded awfully tempting.
I opened my bedroom door and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee slammed into me.
My eyes bounced to the kitchen where coffee percolated, and one Deaglan Kane stood in snug, faded jeans and a black T-shirt. Same clothes as last night. At least, I thought so. His back was to me as he fiddled with something on the counter, next to the coffee maker.
He stayed? He was here all night? In my house?
Shit. Was he also in my bed? Did he sleep with me last night? After Curran, I habitually slept on the edge of the bed and I might not have noticed, even if I hadn’t been drinking.
“Are you going to stand there all day or would you like coffee?” he asked without turning.
“You undressed me?”
The coffee maker beeped to indicate it was done. “You weren’t going to do it yourself.”
Since most of the night was fuzzy, he was no doubt accurate in that assumption.
“I could’ve slept in my clothes.”
“You could have. How are the bruises?”
“Like love kisses compared to the pounding in my head.” It would take a few days for them to heal, but they were already much better.
He chuckled. “Coffee?” He reached up in to the cupboard above the coffee maker and took down two mugs.
“Yes, please.”
He made coffee and knew where my mugs were. I wasn’t sure if I liked that he’d obviously been through my stuff, but since I was desperate for coffee and he had made sure I got home safely and into bed, I didn’t say anything.
I padded barefoot across the hardwood floors into the kitchen that was barely big enough for two people, but the es
sentials were clean, and they worked.
Deaglan poured coffee into the mugs.
“You stayed.” I was getting to the part of asking whether we’d slept together, but I had to work my way up to it.
“Mmm,” he murmured, and set the carafe back. He opened the cutlery drawer and pulled out a spoon.
He had yet to look at me, and from how I felt, it was probably a good thing.
“Milk? Sugar?” he asked.
“Half sugar,” I said. “It’s on the….” My voice trailed off because he was already reaching for the fancy china sugar container my mom bought me a few years ago and had shipped here. The lid was chipped from the shipping, but I didn’t have the heart to throw it out.
He dipped the spoon in the sugar and put a half-spoonful of white granules into my mug.
The spoon clanked against the sides as he stirred. He didn’t put anything in his, so he set the spoon on the counter and lifted both mugs.
His eyes hit mine as he held out the mug.
My belly flipped twice as I stared at him. God, how could a man look so damn hot this early in the morning? His hair was messy, but then that was part of his hotness.
I did not look hot. I hadn’t looked at myself in the mirror yet, but I was pretty certain my face showed how awful I felt.
His brows lifted and I realized I was staring at him.
Right, coffee. I took the mug and wrapped both hands around it. “Thanks.”
He nodded and leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee.
I sipped mine.
Did I ask if he slept with me last night? Or did I just ignore it? If I asked and he did, then I’d hate myself. If I didn’t ask and he did, I wouldn’t know and I’d probably continue to wonder.
And then there was the possibility he didn’t sleep at all.
“Babe, just ask,” he said.
“How do you know I want to ask something?”
Again, his brows lifted. “You’re nervous.” He set his mug on the counter. “And when you’re nervous, you chew your lower lip, which is sexy as hell, especially since I don’t think you even know you’re doing it.”
I released my lip. The chewing the lip started when I gave up chewing gum. Studying for exams was nerve wracking so I chewed gum and drank a lot of coffee in order to stay awake. When I graduated, I gave up chewing gum, not the coffee, but the chewing habit stayed.
