O'Gallagher Nights: The Complete Series (O'Gallagher Nights #1-3; Love In All Places #2)

by Mignon Mykel

  I reached around her to pull the door open, which earned me one of Emily’s signature glares. At this point in the game, I was thinking it was exactly that—a game. I was beginning to think she simply preferred to be cold and indifferent toward me, so she put on the farce in hopes to steer me away.

  I wasn’t going away.

  Emily stepped up into my truck and when her ass hit leather, I closed the door on her, rounding the front to get in on the driver’s side.

  When I turned the ignition, I looked in her direction to see her staring straight ahead, her hands clasped in her lap, all while nibbling on the corner of her lip.

  The movement plumped and pushed her lower lip, and I had to look away.

  Goddamn, I didn’t think the girl knew what she actually did to me.

  “You have a make in mind?” I asked instead as I pulled away from the curb.

  I glanced over at her while I repositioned my body, wrist on the steering wheel and leaning with my arm on top of the center console.

  Her eyes glanced at my wrist before meeting mine. I fought against the desire to keep looking at her and turned my attention back to the road. It wasn’t a busy road and it was pretty straight, but it wouldn’t do me any good to injure her in an accident.

  “No,” she finally answered. “I figured just one of the larger dealerships would be fine. Just a car with good mileage.”

  “There’s nothing you haven’t seen and thought, ‘Hmm, that’s cute’.” The last was said in a high falsetto and hearing her answering laugh made me grin wide.

  “I guess maybe the new Fusions.”

  I grabbed my chest with the hand not steering the wheel. “A Ford girl. Be still my heart.”

  Again, Emily laughed and I had to shift in my seat. My jeans were growing uncomfortably tight.

  Emily directing a laugh at me was something I didn’t realize I was missing in life.

  “It has nothing to do with Ford, and everything to do with the body style.”

  I had a joke on the tip of my tongue about body style but decided to keep it to myself, instead saying, “Alright. Well, to Mikkelson Ford we go.”

  Emily

  By mid-afternoon, I found myself in a white Ford Fusion with all the works. I didn’t want all the works, would have been fine with cloth seats and a regular CD-radio unit, but Rory worked his male magic and I was the proud owner—co-owner—of a car with leather seats, satellite radio, and a rear camera.

  At employee family pricing.

  I felt pretty guilty about the last point, but Rory assured me that they were ripping me off by the tag price anyway.

  Conor came out and helped with the paperwork, as Rory said he or Mia would, and when the three of us left, Rory pulled me aside and helped me into my car.

  This wasn’t the cocky Rory I knew. Self-assured Rory, yes, but not cocky. All day, whenever I tried to put the wall between us, he would go and do something or say something that made me smile and question what I thought about him.

  Maybe he was changing.

  I don’t think he’d ever fought so hard for someone’s attention before and it wasn’t as if I were playing the cat-and-mouse game. But seeing him vie for something that wasn’t coming to him as easily as everything else in his life did, was certainly shaping him into a different person.

  “Dinner?” he asked me again, this time while I sat in my brand new car. He had his forearms on the top of the car and was leaning in toward me. I kept my eyes on his, searching for answers. I needed to know if this was a game.

  If I was just a conquest to him.

  I wasn’t built like the girls he slept with. I thought I’d done really damn well over the last week, putting up the cinder block wall between the two of us, but I could feel it crumbling down.

  I didn’t want to be like the other girls.

  When Rory was nice and kind, he was really nice and kind. I found myself liking him more and more when he left his cocky attitude at the door.

  Still looking him in the eye, I sucked in my top lip and bit on it, concentrating. I watched as his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, but still he said nothing.

  “Ok.”

  It was barely spoken, hardly heard over the pounding of my heart, but Rory heard it loud and clear. His smile was movie-star worthy, showing that the man had a surprising dimple under his right eye, one that sat along his cheekbone. It added to the boyish quality he had.

  “Awesome. Do you think you could be ready by seven?”

  I nodded. “Sure. Is there going to be a dress code?”

  “Just wear something nice. Not formal, just nice.”

  Because it was still warm in the evening, I chose a sleeveless sundress in white and turquoise. I did find a cardigan to pair with it if it started to get chilly. I debated on heels before finding a pair of slightly heeled sandals that wouldn’t put my height over Rory’s.

  I had a thing against being taller than guys I was going out with.

  Being tall my whole life, it was one of those things that I could either let bother me, or just go with. I let it bother me.

  There was a knock on my apartment door just as I was applying lip gloss. I twisted the wand back in and headed toward the living area, grabbing my purse on the way. I pulled open the door and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading when I saw Rory.

  The man wore designer jeans to the bar, so it wasn’t that he’d dressed up for me; he was wearing an outfit I’d seen him in before, even. It was that he paired it with a sport jacket and held a bouquet of daisies in his hand.

  “You look great,” he said, his eyes dropping and taking me in. “These are for you,” he added, thrusting the flowers in my direction. It was slightly comical, the way he did it. I wasn’t so sure that he was a flowers-to-girls guy generally.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the bouquet from him. “Let me put these in a vase. You’re welcome to come in.” I moved to the kitchen, finding a vase above the fridge, and situated the white and baby pink blooms. I loved their simplicity.

  Rory stood in the middle of my living room, his hands in his pockets which allowed his sport jacket to part in a way that had him looking all GQ-esque.

  Not that he didn’t any other day.

  He still sported the stubble look and I was beginning to think it was just a new look for him, that he was going to keep it. It certainly didn’t hurt his image. His hair was pulled back in the stubby ponytail again, but like I said, it didn’t hurt his image.

  “Ready?” I asked, stopping a little ways away from him. If I took a deep enough breath I could smell him from where I was. Any closer and I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions.

  “That’s my line.” His grin was crooked and he held a hand out to me, urging me closer to him. Without extra preamble, I took his hand in mine and allowed him to pull me close. I closed my eyes when I stood in front of him, allowing the moment to seep through my veins. When Rory pressed his lips to my temple, my lips lifted in a closed-lipped smile and I opened my eyes again, turning my head this time to look at him.

  We were incredibly close. I could count the blue flecks in his left eye; there were five that made up the orb I previously thought was simply one blue piece in the sea of green. His eyes held mine captive and when the corners of his eyes crinkled, I could tell his grin was genuine.

  “Let’s eat.”

  Rory brought me to a nicer American Steakhouse near the coastline. We were seated on the patio, making me glad I grabbed my sweater. The breeze was gentle and the night was beginning to cool, but the atmosphere of the place was truly euphoric. They strung circle wicker lights throughout the patio and had patio heaters throughout.

  After looking through the menu, I looked across the table and over the glass hurricane, toward Rory.

  “You really do look beautiful tonight,” he said, leaning onto his forearms. He linked his fingers together in front of him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for finally agreeing to dinner.”
He chuckled lightly. “I’m enjoying spending time with you, Em.”

  Quietly, I admitted, “Me, too.”

  A week or two was awfully quick to change his ways, but maybe having a larger responsibility with O’Gallaghers did Rory some good. This entire week while pursing me, I hadn’t noticed him checking out other women. I didn’t see him persuading others to do things at his bidding.

  I was about to tell him that I noticed the change in him when our waiter came.

  “Thank you for joining us tonight. My name is Rick and I will be your server tonight. Have we decided on our entrees this evening?” he asked.

  I nodded, as did Rory, who gestured toward me. “You go ahead.”

  Picking up the menu again to be sure, I found my item, reading it off for Rick. “I’ll do the…ten ounce prime rib, please.”

  Rory’s brows rose and I fought a giggle. I liked a good piece of red meat. I wasn’t about to order a salad at a place like this.

  After handing my menu to Rick, he turned his attention to Rory. “And for you, sir?”

  Unlike me, Rory didn’t need to open his menu. “I’ll take your Maine Lobster Pot Pie.”

  I nearly bugged my eyes out of my head. I had seen that item on the menu; it was the one with the highest price tag.

  And there Rory went, flaunting his money.

  “Very well, sir. Any appetizers for the two of you?”

  I shook my head but Rory answered, “An order of your caprese, please.”

  “All right.” Rick took Rory’s menu and folded them together in his hands. “We will have that appetizer out to you shortly.”

  “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” I asked, amused.

  He nodded. “I have. When they opened, they brought some promotions to the pub and I checked it out.”

  “It’s a very cute establishment,” I said, glancing around the patio again.

  The sun was a mere spot of orange over the water-filled horizon, and the beginning of a star-filled sky was starting to blanket above us. I watched as a plane’s red lights flickered, flying in toward the mainland.

  “The food is fantastic, too. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  His voice brought my eyes back to him. He held a hand out on top of the table and I allowed myself to place my hand in his. I couldn’t stop the girly grin from starting as he lifted our hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

  I had to remind myself that this was Rory’s game.

  But was it?

  Was I different?

  Or was I being a fool for allowing myself to be so drawn to Rory and his seductive ways?

  I know I told myself one time with him, but I would not be opposed to bending that rule tonight. He was being incredibly kind and sweet, and it brought his sexy factor up to an eleven out of ten.

  He lowered our hands back to the table, rubbing his thumb slowly over my knuckles now.

  “Thank you again for finally agreeing to come out with me. I know we haven’t had the best history, haven’t started out on the right foot, but thank you for giving me this chance.”

  I internally battled with the need to tell him why I had kept my distance, but decided now wasn’t the time or place. I wasn’t sure that there ever would be a time or place, to be honest—unless he were to come out and simply ask.

  Until then, I’d probably just keep my reasons to myself.

  We were in the middle of discussing my school work and plans once the semester ended when Rick returned to the table. I let my fingers slip from Rory’s as I returned both of my hands to my lap, allowing Rick to place the caprese between us.

  “Here is your caprese. I also wanted to extend an apology,” he was saying as he straightened. His attention was focused on Rory. “I was just informed we have run out of truffle. We can still make your meal, it would just be without that ingredient.”

  And that was when the Rory I had come to know, the one I’d heard about and hated, came out to play.

  Rory

  God, she looked beautiful tonight.

  Emily left her hair down. She curled it, sure, but it was down and I wanted nothing more than to run my fingers through the long locks.

  The turquoise of her dress looked great against her skin, and it dipped just enough to show what minimal cleavage she had.

  But it was still fucking beautiful.

  She was fucking beautiful.

  I didn’t know how I got lucky enough for her to finally say yes, but I was certainly grateful.

  There was also promise in her blue eyes that tonight might end my week-long celibacy streak. I couldn’t wait to show her what I was truly capable of, to show her that last weekend was a fluke, a direct response to a year’s worth of want and excitement.

  Not that that made it sound any better.

  Premature was premature, and was meant to be kept in the early teenaged years.

  When Rick returned with our appetizer and Emily slipped her hand from mine, my body—my fucking soul—felt her leaving me.

  “I also wanted to extend an apology,” Rick was saying. I turned my attention from Emily to him. “I was just informed we have run out of truffle. We can still make your meal, it would just be without that ingredient.”

  I frowned, sitting up higher in my seat. “How do you run out of a key ingredient in your featured menu item?”

  “I do apologize, sir.”

  “You’ll be comping me for that cost then, I assume?” I didn’t notice as Emily slouched further in her seat.

  “I can certainly speak with the manager.”

  “How about you do that.” The dry sarcasm in my voice was plenty evident, as was my displeasure in the situation.

  How the hell did a restaurant run out of something that was a staple for their menu? Did they not have competent people running their ordering? You always planned for sales, and being short top ingredients was not the way to keep patrons walking in the doors.

  Rick left and I shook my head. “Imbeciles,” I muttered to myself in response to my last thought. I reached for my water glass, taking a sip before shaking my head again, grinning toward Emily. “Who runs out of ingredients?”

  She sat up but her smile was nowhere to be found. She simply shrugged a shoulder, a frown on her face, as she looked down at the napkin in her lap. “It was an honest mistake, Rory. Maybe they didn’t plan for a high ordering of one of their more expensive dishes.”

  “But you always plan. You always make sure you have enough and then some. Do we ever run out of items at O’Gallaghers? No,” I answered for her. “We don’t. And you know what? We stay in the black. They have these prices for a reason, Em. They can afford an extra few pounds of damned truffles.”

  “I don’t know,” she responded quietly, as if she had nothing else to say.

  The caprese grew cold between us, as did the night. I wasn’t sure exactly what was up with Emily. She went from happy and sexy, to her cold, withdrawn self. I reached for a piece of the appetizer to fill the gap of time. I tried to restart our earlier conversation about her schooling when she placed her napkin on the table.

  “I’d like to go home now.” Her voice was quiet and her body language was completely closed down.

  I frowned. “We haven’t even gotten our entrees yet.”

  “Rory, what you just did was embarrassing.” Emily’s voice was still quiet and she leaned into the table as if she were attempting to keep her voice from traveling. Her eyes were widened yet weary. “You could have been more effective by simply saying ‘ok,’ rather than make that man feel like a heel for something that wasn’t even his fault.”

  “But—”

  “No,” she cut me off, holding a hand up. “I’d like to go home now.”

  I stared at her, fucking baffled. What in the ever loving hell just happened?

  She stood, opening her purse while doing so, and dropped a couple twenties on the table.

  “Jesus, Em, I’ll cover the damn bill,” I said, my irritation starting to come to surface. I
stood, pulling my wallet from my back pocket, and replaced her bills with my own, holding hers out in front of me. She reluctantly took them and started for the restaurant, leaving me behind.

  I shrugged into my sport jacket and followed, still confused as all get out as to what just happened. So she was embarrassed? Didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy her dinner. We could laugh about it later. Why did we have to go without enjoying ourselves a little more?

  I reached her in the middle of the inside dining area, but when I moved to place a hand on her back—possessively, yes; fuckers were looking at her—she stepped away from me.

  I could feel those same fuckers laughing behind my back.

  She wanted to play this way? She wanted to go back to bitch mode? Well so fucking-be-it.

  We waited in silence by valet as my truck was retrieved. Valet helped her into the cab, so I just walked around to get in myself. After being sure she was situated, by quick glance only, I threw the truck in drive and headed back to her place.

  The entire drive was made in silence. It allowed me to stew on her words and her reactions.

  She fucking stepped away from me, putting more distance between us when I had been pretty sure that wall was fucking eradicated.

  She was unbuckled before I could even turn the truck off at her place, out her door before I could get my own belt to unlock. “Goddammit, Emily,” I said, frustrated, as I moved after her.

  “You don’t have to walk me to my door.” She was looking through her purse as she walked. She pulled out her keys as she reached the stairwell, jogging up them in a pretty impressive fashion, seeing as she was in heeled shoes.

  “I’m walking you to your damn door,” I muttered, only a few steps behind.

  Emily unlocked her door in probably the quickest time I’d ever seen a key insert and twist, and she was sliding through the doorway. I pushed in after her before she could slam the door on my face.

  “I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Her voice was still devoid of emotion, very much the Emily I had known for the last year.