Her Last Wild Ride

by Abby Green

  I heard myself say coolly, “I’ve been thinking that we need to talk, too.”

  He arched a brow, not liking the tone of my voice.

  My hands gripped the edge of the desk. I was glad it was between us. “You’re wrong. I don’t want more than what we have right now. And if you’re not prepared to accept that then maybe we should call it quits.”

  He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Bullshit. We have more than just chemistry and you know it. For three years I’ve kept everyone at a distance—Shite, since my folks died I’ve kept everyone at a distance, and yet within days of meeting you I was spilling my guts and looking for you beside me in the bed as soon as I woke up. For the first time in my sorry life, my feelings are involved, and I think yours are, too.”

  “They’re not...” I denied, faintly feeling control slipping out of my grasp like a ship easing free of its moorings. What Johnny was saying was so huge it made my chest swell and contract all at once. I wondered dimly if I was having a heart attack. I felt that awful stomach-dropping sensation of terror.

  “This was never meant to be anything more. It’s just sex.”

  Johnny was remorseless. “This stopped being just sex about ten fucks ago and you know it. You know what I was going to tell you when I took you on our date?”

  A pain lanced me at his what I was going to tell you. I’d already crushed it.

  I swallowed, not wanting to know the answer but asking anyway. “What were you going to tell me?”

  His jaw was so tight a muscle popped. “I was going to tell you that thanks to you, I’d finally called my sister Mary.”

  My heart lurched with a rush of emotion for him. And that was when I fell over the precipice and did what any sane, deeply commitment-phobic woman would do to save herself in this situation when a man was talking crazy stuff and demanding she admit to feelings that spelled doom and personal annihilation when he realized that it was all just some mad sex-induced euphoria.

  I said, “Well I’m really happy for you, Johnny, and I hope it turns out well for you both, but this never stopped being just about sex for me.”

  Johnny stared at me. He was livid and said with a raised voice, “Do you know what, Ash? You’re lying. I think you do care and you’re just too shit-scared to admit it.”

  “Whoa—who the hell are you, talking to my sister like that? And why is no one behind the bar?”

  Chapter Twelve

  It took me a second to realize that it wasn’t Johnny who had spoken. It was someone else with a familiar voice.

  I looked to the doorway again and saw a couple. For a second I didn’t recognize them, and then I did. Liam and Caitlin. Crap. I’d totally forgotten they were due back today. Because my brain had been too busy getting its rocks off and tying itself in knots to avoid looking too deeply into what was happening with Johnny.

  Caitlin was staring at her brother, eyes wide. Hesitantly she said, “Johnny?”

  He was looking at her, too, his face leached of color. He just said hoarsely, “Hi, Kitty Cat.”

  And then she was launching herself at him, arms and legs wrapping around him and sobbing as if her heart would break. Johnny’s arms were wrapped tight around her, too, and I could see his big frame shaking as emotion coursed through him. I could feel it as if we were attached by some invisible cord. Just sex? Yeah right, mocked an inner voice.

  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I was aware of Liam looking shocked, too, eyes glued to where Johnny was lowering Caitlin to the ground now, thumbs wiping her tears and saying, “Sorry, Caitie. I’m so sorry” over and over again.

  He led Caitlin over to the couch in the corner of the room. My face flamed as a memory of that night intruded. That was not a visual I needed right now.

  Had that been the fuck that had stopped being just about getting our rocks off?

  I ran out of the office and past Liam, who barely looked at me. Thankfully the bar was still empty, because I was trembling. Acting on autopilot, I took down a bottle of brandy and two glasses and brought them back to Liam, who was outside the closed door now, looking anxious.

  I handed them to him and avoided his eye. “They might need this.”

  He took them silently. I went back out to the bar feeling agitated and jittery. Liam appeared a while later looking stern with arms folded across his chest. “Ash, what the hell?”

  I blurted out, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  And then Johnny and Caitlin appeared hand in hand. And even though I knew they were siblings, I had a seismic reaction to that contact. They both looked a little shell-shocked.

  Johnny turned to her and lifted her hand to kiss it and I heard him saying, “...back tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to take it all in...”

  Then he let her go and Liam automatically went over to pull her into his side protectively. He and Johnny looked at each other for a long moment, tension crackling between them. Johnny looked at Caitlin. The expression on her face must have assured him of something because he just nodded once, briefly.

  And then he looked at me, and my insides dissolved. He walked over to the bar and said tautly, “You meant what you said?”

  There was so much emotion flowing around us all that it threatened to suffocate me. And he was asking me to step into that with him. The memory of Steve and that awful vulnerability and exposure was too vivid and raw. The memories of this place and my folks’ bitter arguments crowded my head, too.

  I couldn’t do it.

  So I just nodded and said past the betraying lump in my throat, “Yes, I meant it. It’s over, Johnny.”

  He looked at me so hard I could feel my skin being seared. And then he’d turned and was walking out but then stopped abruptly and came back. He leaned over the bar. “You know what, Ash? It’s a pity you fell for the wrong guy, but we’re not all like that, and maybe it’s time to go up and face the freaking apartment.”

  He couldn’t have said anything that hit closer to home or hurt me more. Shakily I said, “Screw you, Johnny.”

  “Yeah,” he said backing away. “See you around sometime.”

  And then he was gone, walking out the door. And that was when Liam exploded. “Jesus Christ, Ash, did he hurt you?”

  I turned to look at Liam, who was livid now, as if he’d come out of the fog of shock. I supposed, in a detached way, what older brother wouldn’t be feeling protective to find his little sister with someone’s prodigal errant brother he’d only heard scandalous things about?

  He bit out, “So help me, Ash, if he hurt you I’ll go after him right now.”

  Caitlin emitted something suspiciously like a sob and Liam looked at her, stricken in an instant, clearly torn now between the two women he loved most in the world. Before this could descend into total chaos and divided loyalties, I put out a hand, horrified to feel the lump in my throat grow and tears pricking my eyes. An awful wrenching sense of loss gripped me, worse than anything I’d ever felt before, even when Mom had taken me to LA.

  Johnny was right, I was a coward.

  “No, Liam, he didn’t hurt me. At all.”

  They both looked at me.

  A sob worked its way up to my throat, constricting it. “I think—” I stopped then forced out “—that I’ve hurt him.”

  Caitlin’s red-rimmed eyes widened. “Fecking hell. I think you’re right.”

  And then her eyes narrowed. Forget Liam or Johnny being overprotective. I sensed I was about to taste the wrath of the besotted baby sister who’d just got her big brother back.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  My heart lurched. I was torn between the dizzying knowledge that Johnny quite possibly felt something very serious for me and total abject terror of exposing my own heart and being hurt.

  I sho
ok my head. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  I seized on anything to try to make her see. “He left you and Mary. He told me.” It was suddenly crystal clear to me that at the root of my fear was that anyone I fell for would have the power to control me and tear my world to pieces, just as my mother had done when she made me leave Liam and my father and New York.

  Caitlin stepped out of Liam’s protective embrace and came close. She was fierce. “He left because Mary was pushing him too hard. Forcing him to become something he wasn’t because she was worried for his future and felt responsible. But he didn’t abandon us at all, not really.”

  “I know,” I said miserably.

  Caitlin’s eyes widened. “He told you about that? And about our parents?”

  I nodded.

  An obdurate expression came over Caitlin’s pretty face as she obviously took in the significance of the intimacies we’d shared. She folded her arms and arched a brow. “Well?”

  I saw how Liam hovered behind Caitlin, oozing protectiveness and love. Something crumbled apart inside me, some defense I’d been clinging on to. A question rose up inside me: Which pain was greater? Trying to self-protect, or just risking everything?

  And then, as if my subconscious made the decision for me, a sense of urgency gripped me. And a dawning realization of my own strength. No one could really annihilate me. I could get hurt, sure, but who had any guarantee of not getting hurt? And I controlled my destiny. No one else.

  The thought of my new life in New York without Johnny stretched ahead like a barren, lusterless wasteland.

  I looked at Caitlin. “I’m going to go after him.”

  The fierceness left her expression. “Good, but you’d better hurry because a hurt Irishman isn’t a pretty sight. He might already be halfway down a bottle of whiskey and standing on a bridge singing maudlin ten-verse Irish songs about the girl who done him wrong.”

  I looked at Liam. “I’m borrowing your bike.”

  He exploded again. “You’re what?”

  But Caitlin just looked at him expressively and he ran a hand through his hair. “Aw, crap. Fine. The keys are—”

  I smiled cheekily, feeling lighter already. I took them out of my pocket. “It’s cool. I’ve had them for the past week.”

  I had the sense to leave before Liam absorbed that nugget of information. It was only when I was going over the Williamsburg Bridge negotiating traffic that I started to feel clammy and nervous.

  Johnny had to just be in the throes of lust. And here was I, about to go to him and declare...what? That I loved him? I almost swerved on the bike, earning the blare of a horn and an expletive out of a window.

  Somehow I made it over to Williamsburg without causing a pileup. By the time I pulled up outside Johnny’s apartment block I was feeling a kind of fatalistic determination. I’d never expected to fall for someone like Johnny, and I now knew that I’d never really fallen for anyone else. Steve hadn’t really been a risk because deep down I’d known that I wasn’t really in love with him. I had wanted connection, but had been too afraid to risk it properly. Till now.

  Just then someone came out the main apartment door, and I rushed forward to grab it before it closed, smiling distractedly.

  I took a deep breath and went in. I was about to climb the stairs to Johnny’s apartment when I heard a crash coming from the workroom. My heart lurched. I went back to that door and it was ajar.

  I walked in and my heart stopped. I could feel my blood drain south. Johnny was standing in the middle of chaos. Broken wood and huge splinters everywhere, a mallet in his hand. I recalled what Caitlin had said about a hurt Irishman not being a pretty sight.

  “Johnny, what are you doing?”

  I instinctively looked for the beautiful walnut cabinet and breathed a sigh of relief to see it intact.

  His voice dripped with disdain. “Relax, Ashling, this isn’t for your benefit. Although I’ll admit that it’s serving a purpose right now. I’m getting rid of some leftover offcuts—they’re going to be given to a charity to distribute over the winter, for firewood.”

  “Oh.” Now I felt silly, imagining I’d driven him to such a rage that he’d been ruining all of his work. And he certainly wasn’t on a bridge singing maudlin Irish love songs. Or halfway down a bottle of whiskey.

  I forced myself to meet his eye and quailed. He looked distant. Cold. Imperious. He arched a brow. “Can I help you?”

  Irritation surged at him for making me feel so...much. I put my hands on my hips and said, “I came all the way over here. Don’t give me the cold treatment just because you’re pissed with me.”

  Johnny dropped the mallet and it fell to the ground with a thud. He stalked toward me and I took a step back, hearing the door shut behind me. My back was against it. He laid an arm above my head, caging me in. Dominating me with this height and strength. And just like that my clit tingled. Down, girl...at least till we know which way this is going to go.

  “Well,” he said tersely, “I think I’m entitled to a little snottiness on account of you ripping my heart out and stamping it to pieces in front of an audience.”

  Something inside me melted, even as I said faintly, “Snottiness?”

  He waved a hand. “It’s Irish for pissy.” And then, “Why did you come all the way over here?”

  I wanted to squirm. I also wanted to jump into Johnny’s arms and wrap my legs around him.

  “I think...you like me?” I asked hesitantly.

  He scowled. “What part of ripping my heart out didn’t you get?”

  A kind of euphoria snaked through me but I tried to hold on to reality.

  “I like you, too.”

  Johnny sneered. “Aw, that’s cute. Maybe I’ll get you a going-steady bracelet?”

  “No...I mean, I really like you. A lot.”

  Johnny went still. Both hands came over my head now. “What’s a lot?”

  I squinted up at him, heart thumping hard. I felt light-headed. “Like, more than a lot.”

  “Like,” I said hurriedly when he started to scowl again, “heart ripping out and being stood on—that much.” I blurted out in a rush, “I never loved Steve, not really. That was just an infatuation. I know that now. This...is very different.”

  He put both hands around my face and tilted it up. A slow sexy smile split his face in two. “Are you prepared to agree with me now? That we’re gone beyond the just a fuck stage?”

  I nodded. He pressed close, his pelvis against mine. The hard ridge of his erection made me move closer.

  “I’m sorry,” I said huskily. “I just...thought you were safe for me, you know? I thought we’d have one wild ride, or two, and that’d be it. Just some disposable fun.”

  I sighed. “You’re right about the apartment. I have a bad template...it’s hard to believe that things won’t turn out like my dad and mom... And when my mom took me away from Liam and Dad...it was tough.”

  “I know, Ash...I know.”

  He bent his head and kissed me, and it was tender and sweet and a kind of vow. When he pulled back he said, “How about this—we start out with a non-relationship and ease into this whole love and commitment thing.”

  I frowned up at him, desire already clawing through me, making me needy. “What would that be like?”

  He pretended to think for a second. “Well, we’d hang out, a lot. Go on dates that don’t involve us getting naked.” He grimaced. “Well, we’ll allow some time for that. No need to be unrealistic right now.”

  I smiled and felt ridiculously joyous. Mary Freaking Poppins and her cartoon birds were back and twittering deliriously.

  He continued, “Then...eventually you might move in, or you know, we’d find a place together. And...we’ll just take it one day at a time while you’re setting up your new business.”
>
  I waited for a sense of claustrophobia or panic to grip me, but it didn’t come. The joy was drowning it out. A weight was lifting off my shoulders. My smile got wider and then faded slightly as I thought of something. “I’ll have to fess up to Jenna.”

  Johnny all but waved that aside and said with all the confidence of an Irish-born charmer, “Leave Jenna to me. And anyway, you’ll be needing furniture in this new office of yours, won’t you?”

  I moved closer, my smile widening again. “We certainly will. I presume you’ll be providing your services pro bono?”

  Johnny smiled with wicked sexiness and said, “As long as payment in kind is received on a regular basis.”

  I tilted my head and moved my hips against his. “What kind of payment did you have in mind?”

  Johnny cupped my ass in his hands and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his hips as he walked us out of the workshop, and he said between kisses, “A very physical kind, and I’m taking a down payment right now.”

  He stopped inside the door of his apartment and it slammed behind us. We broke apart, breathing heavily. For a long moment we just looked at each other. Emotion swelled up through my chest and made a big smile bloom across my face.

  “Well, Ryan? What are you waiting for?”

  “Nothing,” he said huskily. “I have everything I need right here.”

  “Good,” I said softly. “Me, too.”

  * * * * *

  About the Author

  Abby Green lives in Dublin, the capital city of a generally rain-soaked Ireland. When she was small she was obsessed with American TV and thought that if she ever went there, it would be like Dallas or Dynasty, where women looked like Joan Collins and wore power suits and all the men wore cowboy hats like JR in the shower. But as we all know by now, it was just a dream. Since then she’s been to America lots of times and is happy to report that the reality is far better than ’80s TV shows.