by Magan Vernon
“That was Jack, not me. No serious girlfriends, pinky. There’s a big difference between a relationship and just shagging,” he said bluntly.
This time I was a little more prepared for a brash answer but still had to swallow the lump in my throat before turning to him.
“Pinky, you’re gonna need to get better reflexes. Especially that gag reflex.” He cracked a small smile.
I glared, and he laughed in response. “Do you want me to say something romantic? Like maybe I’ve just been waiting for the right girl? Or my mam dying when I wasn’t even out of nappies probably fucked me up?” he asked, rocking back on his heels.
I blinked. This was the first time I’d heard anything about his mother. He never spoke about her, and neither did Jack. All I knew was that she died not long after Sean was born, and their late father never remarried. I had no idea how in the hell I was supposed to respond to this information. “I’m sorry?” I squeaked.
He shrugged. “Mam left this world when we were lads, and Da raised us. Nothing to be sorry about. We all turned out just fine. Now I have my American girlfriend who says she’ll marry me if I give her flowers and romance.”
I wanted to push further and learn more about his mother, but it wasn’t the right time.
“Ever done the flowers and romance thing before?” I blurted, wishing I knew how to stop spitting out whatever I was thinking. Nerves and the lack of a filter in certain situations did that.
“Do I detect jealousy?” he teased.
“No, I have nothing to be jealous of,” I quipped.
His hand found mine, and my gaze traveled up his arm to his eyes. “Look, Fallon, it’s no secret that I’ve been with a lot of women on both sides of the pond.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That doesn’t help your case.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You and I have an agreement. I’m not with anyone else, romantically or sexually. Your bed is the only one I want to sleep in.”
“Are you making this a regular thing now?” I asked, hesitantly. I guess it was his furniture and his family’s flat, so I didn’t have any ownership of it. But the thought of sharing the small bed with him every night had butterflies flying in my stomach.
“Do you want me to?” He lifted his chin slightly.
“I mean…I guess technically it is your place. Well, the company’s place…” I trailed off.
“We close on the house in less than thirty days. I can wait until then to live together if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, his words softening.
“It might look more real if you stay,” I blurted. I didn’t think about what I was saying and just went with what my heart was pulling at me to do.
The smile broadened on his face. “All right. It looks like we’re moving in together. This is the next step, right? Then we have the proposal and marriage, and soon it’ll all be over.”
“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, yet, Mr. Murphy,” I said as we turned the corner.
“I always do, future Mrs. Murphy,” he said, squeezing my hand.
…
Connor was working later but said he would be home for dinner and that he’d cook. I had to remind him that I didn’t own pots or pans—or we didn’t, I guess, since he was moving in.
But he just smiled and said he would be home after six.
When I got into my flat, I slipped off my shoes by the door, ready to video message Leah, when I stopped and did a double take. Not only were there fresh fruits on the kitchen counter, but there was a tea kettle on the stove and a toaster near the washer.
I opened the fridge door, and while it had been empty before, it was now stocked to the brim.
In a trance, I closed it. Every cabinet and drawer held stuff, as if fairies had come and given me a fully stocked kitchen.
But I knew it wasn’t some mythical creature. Connor was a constant surprise.
No one had ever been this generous with me.
Not even my parents. And especially not Ray. The nicest thing he ever bought me was a used iPod that broke after the first time I used it. Nana did the best she could for me, but I’d never had anyone shower me with gifts like this. It was too much.
Tears welled in my eyes. Was this all so that he could take his spot as head of the company, or was there something more?
My phone buzzed, alerting me of my incoming video message from Leah, and I couldn’t dwell on my thoughts of Connor anymore.
Shaking away my tears, I answered the call. Leah with mermaid-like eyeshadow greeted me.
“Hey! Where are you?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Um. At my place,” I said, taking a seat on the couch. Connor was wrong. This thing was comfortable.
“Since when does your apartment have furniture? Or pictures for that matter?” she asked, raising her painted-on eyebrows.
I glanced behind me at the black and white photo of Dublin castle.
“Oh. Yeah. Um. Since it’s a company place, Connor thought it might look better furnished,” I half-lied.
“My, my, this ‘friend’ Connor seems to be awfully generous to his employees,” she said, making a quote sign with her fingers when she said “friend.”
“No…” I sighed. “Just with me. I mean, maybe he does buy other employees or girls furniture, breakfast, and lunch. I don’t know.”
“It sounds like he’s made quite an impression on you. And if he hasn’t, he’s pretty freaking hot, and generous with his money, so if you want to send him over to the U.S., I’ll take him off your hands.” She laughed.
“It’s not like that. We’re friends, and he has a lot on his mind. His dad just died, and he and his brothers are trying to figure out logistics with the company,” I stammered. I didn’t even want to acknowledge my stomach hardening with the twinge of jealousy, thinking of her with Connor.
“So? I don’t know any guy who would let that stop him from getting in a little stress relief. By that, you know, I mean, doing the nasty.” Leah rolled her eyes.
“It’s not that simple, okay?” I groaned.
“Why? You have a rich, sexy guy, who buys you nice things and treats you well. I’m sorry, Fal, I’m team Connor, and don’t know why the hell you’re resisting this,” she said.
I frowned, trying to figure out how to word everything without coming out and telling her the truth. “It’s…”
She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Not that easy. But I don’t see a problem here. He takes you out. He buys you things, and obviously you like him, or you wouldn’t be so flustered and rambly when you talk about him.”
I drew my knees to my chest, putting my forehead on them. “You don’t understand.”
“You know what I think?”
I nodded, not looking up. This was why I called her. Even though I wasn’t telling her the whole truth, I needed my best friend to talk to me and help me stay a little sane. “Yes, I do.”
“It’s a little crazy this rich guy is vying for your attention, but you’re a hell of a catch. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met, someone who has always done anything for everyone else but her. You need to do this for you, and by “do,” I mean do that hot Irish man.”
“What would my nana say if she heard you talk like that?” I asked.
“Nana would say that your friend has a smart mouth, but that you need to do something for yourself, honey.” Nana’s scratchy voice rang through the phone.
I froze, staring at Leah, then watched as the screen slowly moved to my nana’s face. “Leah, you could have told me you were there with her,” I said through gritted teeth, wanting to hide behind a pillow and pray her hearing aids weren’t turned on.
“I thought you wanted me to set up her tablet. I didn’t know we’d be talking about your lucky clover of a man.”
Heat rose up my neck just thinking about Connor’s tattoos and when he first showed them to me. “Sorry you had to hear any of that, Nana,” I stammered.
“What? You think I haven’t heard worse?
Your grandpa was a bootlegger. Back then, he and his boys were much more crass. But your grandfather never decorated a fancy apartment for me or bought my grandmother one of these tablet things.”
“They’re just things because he has a lot of money,” I said, deadpan. Money was supposedly the root of all evil, and now I had the chance to get more than I ever dreamed of. My stomach lurched as I looked around the room at the gifts he’d given me, the ones he said I deserved. But at that moment the only thing I thought was how this could all go wrong so quickly.
What if someone in the company found out we were doing this? What would they do to us? Would we both be out of a job? Then there were the other worries, which I tried to clamp down. The part that wondered how long he could stay with me without his eyes or hands wandering.
Nana smiled. “Honey, any man who would think to take care of your nana is something. There’s good in him.”
“There is.” I nodded. He cared about his company, and maybe he did care about my well-being and happiness if he was trying to make things more comfortable for me, even for my short time at the flat and in Ireland.
“Now, Leah here is going to help me set up this fancy electronic device so I can talk to you more. You can message me anytime once I get this figured out, okay? Day or night. For you, I’ll learn this and be here, even if I can’t be physically.”
Connor buying things for my grandma might never sit right with me. But if he could give me a little more time with her, then I had to be grateful for that. He didn’t have to do any of these things, and he was. And that was why it was getting so much harder not to fall for my future fake husband.
Chapter Eleven
Connor
Running the American offices while being at least five hours ahead of them wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. It required a lot of conference calls when I should have been clocking out for the night.
All I could think about was getting home to Fallon.
I’d never thought this much about a girl, but she kept me on my toes. When I wasn’t working, I’d think about the next time I’d see her and what new thing I could tease her about that she would throw right back at me. Being with her was effortless, but trying to mentally push her out of my mind was a more challenging task.
After being at the office well past when I wanted to be, I headed for the flat.
I still couldn’t believe she wanted me to stay with her. A silly grin stayed plastered on my face for all of the short walk to the building.
My pulse still quickened the closer I got to her. She was doing all of this to help the franchise and her Nana, and I was doing this for the business. But pushing her away at the end could be one of the hardest things I’d ever have to do. Even if I wasn’t a monogamous guy, being with Fallon didn’t give me the same constricted feeling I’d felt with every other girl. We just worked.
I found the door unlocked and walked right into the flat. The TV was on, but there was no sign of Fallon.
“You know, you should lock that door. Anyone could walk in,” I called.
“I know. Like that creeper Connor Murphy,” she said in a strained voice.
I stopped in the living room, where she laid on the floor on her back with her hands behind her head and her knees to her chest. Exactly the position I’d like to have her in if she wasn’t wearing the black yoga pants and pink tank top. This wasn’t helping the whole “push her away” scenario.
“Are you just going to watch me work out?” she asked in a huff. She stretched out so she was flat on her back then rolled to her stomach, spoiling the magnificent view of her breasts. But at least her arse was a close second.
“Would you rather I join you? Maybe teach you how to stretch properly? I thought you Americans knew this stuff from all of those workout videos.” I looked at the screen where a way-too-chipper-woman stood with a headband pulling back her dark hair.
Fallon frowned, sitting up and grabbing the remote, turning off the screen. “I thought I’d try and get in a workout. I’d rather watch reality shows, but you don’t have any decent ones in Dublin.”
I laughed, shaking my head before kicking off my shoes. “What? You want the Real Housewives of Dublin?”
“I’d even settle for the fake ones,” she mumbled, looking up with a raised brow as I slid off my socks then slowly peeled off my shirt.
Her neck bobbed, gulping, before she finally stuttered, “Are you seriously getting naked right now?”
I smirked and sat down next to her, noticing her eyes roam over the dips of my ab muscles. “I’m going to show you how to stretch, pinky. Unless you want to be sore tomorrow.”
I should have stopped there and not let it go any further. But my other head was thinking for me. It couldn’t hurt me, either, to ease my muscles after being cramped up in the office all day.
“I’m fine,” she quipped, her gaze darting away.
“Come on; I promise not to hurt you. Do you trust me?” I asked, holding my hand out.
I thought she’d tell me to fuck off, or not respond at all, but she turned and took my hand, and my stomach fluttering at the sensation. This woman did trust me, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d ruin her when this was all said and done.
“Okay, first, let’s get you on your back,” I said with a smirk. Her eyes widened when I put one hand on her waist then flipped her over. She let out a little gasp, and I leaned over her.
From this view, my dick was on high alert. Her blond hair splayed around her, and her chest practically popped out of her top.
Licking my lips, I tried to focus on the task at hand. I grabbed one of her legs, holding it against my shoulder before pushing gently against her calf.
She moaned. I bit down on my lip, trying not to think about how else I could make her have that reaction.
“Feel that stretch?” I murmured, gently pushing her leg.
“Yeah. Maybe you do know what you’re doing and aren’t just trying to get in my pants,” she muttered.
“I told you I know what I’m doing,” I whispered before leaning forward. I pressed my mouth to hers, nibbling on her bottom lip.
Her sweet sigh caught my breath. My heart beat rapidly against hers, and my whole body heated up. I was too far gone to stop.
I ran my tongue along the spot I nibbled then pressed my forehead to hers, staring into her endless blue eyes. She was beautiful. Those little moans made me want to rip off those tight pants and feel every inch of her.
“I…um…” she stuttered, her breathy words tickling my lips.
“You what, pinky?” I smiled and leaned in. She sealed her lips shut and shook her head.
I pulled back, staring at her now-closed eyes.
Fuck. Did I read her signals wrong? She seemed to be enjoying it, if those little noises said anything.
“I—I should shower. Yeah. Shower.”
I sat back. She jumped up and ran to the bathroom.
Instead of following like I wanted to, I stood, adjusting my straining dick. Then I walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Cooking seemed to relax me. And the way this girl was messing with my head, I needed something to try to take my mind off everything—the business, and the girl who was supposed to just be a means to get it back.
…
“That smells amazing.” Fallon’s voice carried into the kitchen. I glanced over my shoulder. She stood in a loose-fitting T-shirt and sweatpants. Her wet hair was in a bun, and she didn’t have a trace of makeup on.
Still sexy as fuck.
“Salmon and celery root colcannon,” I said, using the spatula to get the mashed bits of celery root and garlic into the bowl with the cabbage.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a man cook for me.”
I frowned, shaking my head. “I don’t know what kind of men you’ve been dating. A man who doesn’t know his way around the kitchen doesn’t understand what he’s doing in the bedroom, either.”
“If we’re going to continue this conversation, I hope you
have some wine to go with this dinner,” she said, turning and opening the fridge door.
“I was just stating a fact,” I said, shaking my head before mixing the cabbage and celery root. “No wine, but there is beer.”
“Well, the truth is, I’m not usually much of a beer girl. Or a girl who stays home with someone cooking for her,” she said, grabbing two bottles of Guinness and setting one beside me.
“What would you be eating or doing if I wasn’t here? Or if you were back in America?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She shrugged, popping the lid off her bottle. “Probably reality TV and wine, maybe some leftover pizza if it was handy. You did peg me on that one, sadly.” She grimaced.
“I don’t know of any American pizzerias around here, but I do believe there is a winery down in Dalkey that’s supposed to have some good mead.”
“They have wineries around here but not pizzerias?” she asked, taking her plate and fork before we walked in step to the little table by the window.
“People like the local mead blends at the pubs around here. We can also charge a pretty penny in America for a glass of authentic Irish white, as we call it to the hipsters.”
“Are you calling me a hipster?” she asked, smiling before putting the fork to her food.
“I don’t fully understand the American term, but I don’t think you fall into that category.”
She nodded. “I don’t get the term, either. That’s something else we have in common. Now, let’s see if your cooking skills are better than mine. I’d be okay with us not sharing that trait.”
She brought the food to her lips and then let out a little moan that made my dick jump.
“Oh my God. This is really good. Did you seriously make this?” she asked, before taking another big bite.
“Yes. This was all me.”
“Did your grandmom or another woman teach you to cook?” she asked after swallowing a big piece of cabbage then picking at a bit of salmon with her fork.
“No. Learned on my own through trial and error while living by myself at university. My nanny would rather play cards or sleep with the butler than teach me anything,” I muttered, opening the top of my drink then taking a big gulp.
