by Mignon Mykel
Yep.
Fuck.
Emily.
I sat back and rubbed my palms over my eyes roughly, trying to recall more of the night. We both had clothes on, so it wasn’t like I fucked her. That wouldn’t go over real well with Conor.
I chuckled. Fuck. That wouldn’t go over real well with Emily, either. She fucking hated my guts.
What happened, what happened, what happened…?
I opened the back door for Cute Halter Top, not really paying attention to her as she gabbed on and on. She was a fucking screamer in bed, but she really had to shut her trap now. Too fucking talkative.
I stepped out onto the back step and nearly tripped over something.
“Fuck.” Damn homeless people.
But when I looked down, everything jerked to a stop.
“Isn’t that your waitress?”
Barmaid was the term we used, but, “Yeah. Here, let’s get you to your car.” Cute Halter Top and I walked around a sleeping Emily, and I got the girl to her car. I scratched at my chin, trying to figure out what the hell Emily was doing back here, and sleeping on the back stoop no less.
When I reached Emily again, she hadn’t moved. In the dim light the back lantern provided, I saw her face streaked with tears and an unfamiliar, unwelcome, clench happened somewhere in the vicinity of my chest.
I knew the girl didn’t like me. She wasn’t quiet about it. Take tonight, for instance. She didn’t normally close with me, but Stone and I switched shifts as a favor to him. When she found out it would be she and I, I almost expected her to walk out.
But I knew her story. I knew why she’d been at O’Gallaghers for the last year. It wasn’t because she liked passing out lagers and getting her ass slapped, that was for damn sure.
When she wasn’t ignoring me, she was shooting daggers my way and saying some snide comment or another. She wasn’t exactly quiet about her distaste of me and my affairs.
I couldn’t very well leave her sleeping out here, though. It was September in San Diego; it was starting to get chilly at night, and she was only wearing the tank and shorts she’d changed into after her shift ended.
I bent down and lifted her willowy form. She was tall for a girl, probably around five-eight, maybe only five-seven, with clear blue eyes and long, white blonde hair that, I swear to fucking God, reached her ass when she let it down and straight. She usually wore it in those big curls girls liked and pulled back in a pony-tail.
She was gorgeous, I wasn’t denying it. I just knew she didn’t like me so I didn’t go out of my way to be overly nice to her.
When I straightened to my full height, she sleepily turned her head into my shoulder, her nose rubbing against my neck, and fucking damn if my dick couldn’t seem to remember it was just getting some twenty minutes ago. I was harder than a fucking rock, and all she did was put her nose against my neck. And she didn’t even know she was doing it.
Jostling her legs so her knees draped over my forearm comfortably, I made my way back inside, carrying her upstairs. She could sleep in my bed tonight.
But fuck if I was sleeping on the couch.
Playing nice guy fucking sucked. Regardless if she woke up right now, with me staring down at her with a fucking raging hard-on tenting my boxers, or if she woke up after I left to meet with Conor, she would fucking know where she was the moment she found the front door.
I couldn’t worry about that now. I had things to do, and Emily could be late for her fucking review with Conor and me. I wasn’t about to wake her up and deal with her wrath.
I glanced at the clock. Ten.
Fuck.
I had things to do. As in past tense.
Conor was going to fucking kill me for being late.
Again.
My brother used to be all chill and shit about being late when it dealt with the female variety, even more so when it was him and his dick sunk in some chick’s pussy, but then he went and became a dad and now he wasn’t so fucking cool any more.
It wasn’t like our meeting this morning was all that damn important. We were literally only sitting down and getting ready for yearly reviews.
Woo-fucking-hoo if I was late. I think the only person we were scheduled to sit down with today was the blonde currently in my bed. I couldn’t stop the grin at the thought of her in my bed for other reasons. I’d totally do her if she weren’t such a bitch to me.
I stretched my arms up above then behind my head, linking my hands and allowing my fist to tap against the wall. When that stretch was in the middle of glory to the heavens, I stretched my legs, pointing my toes, loving the feel of each muscle stretching taut. My movement caused Emily to stir.
When she removed her leg, I crunched up to sit and swung my legs off the bed. I looked over my shoulder as I stood, and saw that my face-down girl stretched long against the bed, her face still buried in the mattress. The stretch allowed the sheet and her shorts to slip just a bit, just enough to show a small feather tat on the top of her right ass cheek. Emily didn’t seem the tattoo type. Hmm.
Turning, I headed into the bathroom to piss and try to start and resolve the morning.
Emily
The very last thing I could remember about last night was sitting on the back stoop of O’Gallaghers, bawling.
My life just went from shitty to shittier.
I don’t suppose it was really all that bad, but after working a double at O’Gallaghers, I had raced home so I could study for my first major test in my nursing lecture course, only to find out I misplaced my keys somewhere during my walk home.
After starting at O’Gallaghers, I did indeed get rid of my car. Between not having television or a car, and working doubles at O’Gallaghers, I’d been able to afford school and something more than ramen and Kraft Macaroni Dinners. I splurged on Shapes though, because yeah, they were better than the Original.
I would cut out the internet expense too, but I needed that for school.
Anyway, I got home at one in the morning only to discover I hadn’t grabbed my keys in my hurry to get a few hours in of studying. I had been planning on studying until two, sleeping until nine, then going to my review with Conor and Rory, before finally heading to class. Everything worked out in my head.
I should have freaking known better. Nothing ever worked as planned.
I got home, couldn’t get in, and had to turn back to the pub. Unfortunately, by the time I got back, Rory had already locked up. Having no place to go, I sat on the back stoop, put my head in my hands, and cried.
Cut corners, and eventually they bite you in the ass…and I’m pretty sure mine just did.
So, that was the last of what I remembered.
Somehow, though, I ended up in a bed. I started to come to when the body I had thrown myself against started to move, but it wasn’t until the body moved and I could hear someone peeing in a nearby bathroom that I opened my eyes and looked around.
The bedroom was huge. I frowned.
Why was I in a bedroom?
Frantically, I looked down to reassure myself I was in my clothes.
I was.
Thank the good Lord.
What happened though?
I turned around and sat up, rubbing my hand over my face and then looked around the room for a clock.
Ten.
Shit!
Ten!
I was due to meet Rory and Conor like… now!
I scrambled out of the bed and looked around for shoes, spotting them tossed carelessly at the foot of the bed. I pulled myself to stand and just as I was about to slip my feet into my well-worn Birkenstock sandals that had been a gift…
Rory O’fucking-Gallagher came walking out of the bathroom.
Oh my God.
Oh my flipping God.
I spent the night in Rory O’Gallagher’s bed.
I threw my body over his. Ok, just my leg, but oh my God, my leg touched something on him!
I swallowed hard, staring at him as he stood in the doorway of wh
at must have been the bathroom. He stood there, all hard body, messy reddish-brown hair, with a delicious morning shadow.
And smirking.
The ass.
“What,” he finally said. “No thank you?”
I snapped my head up to look at him from across the room. “For what?” Just like that, he had the ability to piss me off.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his bare chest, and his legs crossed at the ankles. Everything about him just screamed cocky.
Over-confident.
Asshole.
“Saving your ass last night?” he finished.
I stood straight and started to chew on my thumbnail as I replayed the night prior. “I just remember coming back and sitting on the stoop when I realized you had locked up already,” I said, lifting my chin in the air. I wasn’t going to tell him I bawled my eyes out.
“Yeah, you fucking fell asleep on the stoop.” Rather than anger though, he sounded… Concerned?
Rory O’Gallagher, concerned? Psh. No. Never. That didn’t fit his MO.
“Why did you come back?” Still, he stood there, ever so patiently. We didn’t have time for this! I had a review with him and Conor, as well as a test that I was likely going to fail at this point.
If I failed this class, I was done. This wasn’t me being dramatic; it was the school’s rules. I’d be damned if I worked this hard for this long, only to fail one class in the end.
“I don’t have time for this,” I finally responded, heading toward the bedroom door. I’d see myself out.
“Em.” He must have moved from the doorjamb, because I could hear him padding after me. “Emily.”
Ignoring him, I reached for the doorknob of what I assumed was to the stairwell leading down to O’Gallaghers, but before I could pull it open, Rory caged me in against the door. I rested my forehead against the wood and squeezed my eyes shut.
I was going to fail my class.
Not only that, but Conor was likely downstairs and he’d see me leaving the apartment with his brother and, oh my God, if I lost this job, I would really be paddling up shit creek.
“You’re a smart girl, Emily,” Rory stated to my back.
Ha. Smart girl. Right.
That’s why it took me this long to get where I was. Look at the prime example behind me. The guy who made six figures by the time he was twenty. If anyone was smart, it was Rory. Even if he didn’t get his money by being a PhD in something extraordinary, he was at least smart in his entrepreneur ways.
“You know better than to sleep outside—behind a bar, no less. Why did you come back?”
I could continue to ignore him. It’s what I did best, anyway. And besides, why was he being so…not-Rory-like right now?
Then he really surprised me by grabbing my arm gently and turning me around to face him. I leaned back against the door, defeated, and looked up the minimal inches to stare directly into Rory’s green eyes.
I had never noticed how pretty they were before. They were a rich emerald green with an even darker ring around them. His left eye had a slight bright blue speck in it, taking up about a quarter of the bottom of his iris. Add to that his thick, long black eye lashes, and he really was beautiful up close.
He lifted a brow over one of those beautiful eyes, wordlessly urging me to answer him.
“I left my keys here.”
Rory frowned now. “What do you mean, you left your keys here? I saw you leave. How’d you get home?”
That was the other thing.
I don’t think any of the O’Gallaghers knew I didn’t have a car.
“I walked,” I answered honestly, jutting my chin up and preparing myself mentally for Rory’s response. We may not get along, he may be a cocky asshole, but one thing the O’Gallaghers were was protective of the people who worked for them.
When one of the barmaids was continuously harassed by a customer and it started to affect her outside of the pub, the boys helped her file a restraining order. When Matt’s, one of the weekday bartenders, kid fell ill, only to learn he had a genetic disorder, the O’Gallaghers set up a benefit for his family and the expenses they were starting to see.
Conor did these things because beneath his cocky exterior, he was truly a big softy, something that was painfully evident when you saw him with his baby boy, Aiden. Talk about exploding ovaries. Pair that with how much he loved his girlfriend, Mia, and you couldn’t help but fully take in what those closest to him meant to Conor.
As for Rory? I’m sure it was an image thing.
The look of disbelief that passed over his face now would have been comical if it weren’t for the fact I was mentally exhausted about how my day was already going.
“At one in the morning? You walked. You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
I ground my molars. “No, I’m not fucking kidding you, Rory. I walked. I don’t have a car. I walked home like I do every night, just like I walk here every day. I was too busy thinking about a test I have to take today and didn’t realize I left my keys here until I got home. Therefore, I had to turn around. But by the time I got back, you had already locked up.”
“Emily, you don’t walk home at one in the morning around here!”
“It’s a decent neighborhood, Rory.”
“Yeah, with a couple bars in either direction and therefore, shady as shit people. How long have you not had a car?”
“A year,” I grumbled.
“You’ve worked for us for a year.” His voice was eerily calm, as if he was working up a good mad.
I turned my head, avoiding his gaze. Yep, that’s right, Rory O’Gallagher.
“You mean to tell me. You have walked here and back. At least four times a week. For a fucking year?”
I snaked my arms between us so I could cross them under my chest, and tilted my head to the side, sighing heavily. “Rory, I have places to go and things to do, so let’s not continue this. You don’t really care anyway. Thank you for the place to sleep, even though I wish you would have just woken me up. I’m sorry for…anything I may have done in my sleep.” My words came out cold, but that seemed to be my only temperature where Rory was concerned. I thought back to the erection my leg brushed against and I felt my face flush.
Maybe there was some intermixing heat in there, too.
My eyes quickly glanced down to be sure he wasn’t up any longer. That would be so, so awkward right now.
But.
Nope.
Oh my God. Oh my God, Rory had a boner and he was talking to me while almost holding me up against the door and it was much too late in the game to be considered morning wood any longer.
Oh. My. God.
There was a new panic stirring in me, fighting over the panic of the fact my future was about to go down the drain incredibly fast because I was going to fail my class.
“Oh that?” Rory chuckled, this time his own voice cold, before looking down and grabbing himself. I fought against the gasp.
“Natural, baby.” He squeezed himself and let out a groan, biting his lip. His eyelids dropped, his gaze heavy, as he kept his eyes locked on mine.
He was so…so…crude.
I turned and pushed against him to try and get the door open, my butt pushing back into him. I nearly jumped out of my skin with the feel of his hardness against me.
Finally, he stepped back and I swung the door open, scrambling down the stairs without looking back.
Rory
I chuckled to myself as Emily ran down the stairs, her messy white blonde hair billowing behind her as she made her hasty exit.
When she reached the bottom, she glanced back up the stairs and caught me watching her. Her face scrunched up in a disgusted frown, her brows drawn together—her lips puckered angrily, too—and she pushed through the door to the kitchen.
God, she was so fucking easy to get going.
I stepped back into the apartment and closed the door, needing to put on clothes before
meeting Emily and Conor downstairs. I made my way back to the bedroom and glanced at my bed, remembering the feel of Emily, all soft and warm, next to me. The room smelled like sex and I found myself kind of wishing it had been Emily earlier in the night, instead of Cute Halter Girl.
I started my night with a boner and one cute girl, and ended the sleeping hours even harder, with Emily’s snark and sass filling my head. She was so cold all the time, that just once I wanted to feel her, see her, all hot and bothered.
By this time, I knew that Emily would have entered Conor’s office. He was bound to ask her about her attire. Emily was the type who was always made up. When she wasn’t in her ass-hugging jeans or sexy short-shorts with an O’Gallagher’s shirt, she was in a sundress or nice jeans with an even nicer top. Her hair was always done and her face always made up.
Conor would probably be shocked to see her in her after-work clothes, messy-assed hair, and makeup smeared face.
He’d ask her about it. She wouldn’t lie. I didn’t think the girl knew how to lie, she was that fucking pure and genuine.
Which made her obvious distaste of me so incredibly true and real. From the moment I met her, I knew she didn’t like me.
“Rory, this is Emily,” Conor said from his desk as I stepped into the back office prior to a shift. I preferred to do more of the behind-the-scenes marketing aspects of running the pub, but lately I was working behind the bar more than usual. “I hired her to fill some of the holes on the floor and she’ll likely do some closings, too.” Sitting across from Conor was a gorgeous blonde with clear blue eyes, eyes I could probably find myself lost in. Her hair was down and over a shoulder, showing off its thickness while the light played off the light blonde hues, making it appear almost white.
In my quick perusal, I didn’t notice any tattoos, no necklaces, no bracelets. She did wear a pair of simple diamond-like studs in her ears, but other than that…
She was a complete blank canvas.
I stepped closer and offered my hand. “Rory O’Gallagher.” I flashed a grin at her, wanting to win her over. Fuck, I’d give up a week’s worth of easy pussy for one night with this one here.
The sweet, genuine smile she had on her face when I walked in changed just slightly, but in the direction of cold rather than warm. “I’ve heard of you.” She offered her hand and I tried my damnedest to ignore Conor’s smirk-y chuckle. “Emily Winters.”
