Fighting Irish

by Katy Regnery

  Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she blinked them rapidly, taking a deep breath and holding it until they subsided. She didn’t want to cry; it’s just that when he said something like that—so earnestly, so devotedly—her heart almost couldn’t take it.

  On Monday night, he’d picked her up at six as promised and taken her to dinner and a movie in nearby Meredith. Even now, she had no idea what she’d eaten or what movie they’d seen—every moment had been filled with an acute awareness of Rory, of being with him, of being…his.

  She watched the eyes of other women in the restaurant as they looked him up and down, then slid their envious gazes to her. She memorized the way his eyes shined when he told her stories about his childhood adventures with Ian and Tierney. She loved the way his hand reached for hers as they walked from the restaurant to the movie theater, and when he put his arm around her in the dark theater, gently stroking her shoulder, she’d barely been able to concentrate on the plot.

  Later, when they arrived back at Summerhaven, he’d invited her to his apartment for a cup of coffee, but they’d barely made it through the door before their hands were on each other, his lips slamming into hers in a bruising, desperate kiss, and her nails digging into his back as she pulled him closer.

  “What are you thinking about?” he murmured, his hands gently massaging her back through her shirt.

  “Monday.”

  “Good thoughts?”

  “The best,” she sighed.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Our ice cream is melting.”

  But she closed her eyes and refused to unlink her hands behind his neck. “Let it.”

  Swooping her up in his arms, he circled the coffee table and sat down on the couch with her in his lap. He smiled at her, into her eyes, in a way that made her feel like she was the only woman on the earth, in the universe.

  “How did this happen?” he asked, his expression filled with wonder.

  She grinned up at him. “The question is…why didn’t it happen sooner? We’ve known each other for thirteen years.”

  “Maybe we weren’t ready for each other yet.”

  “Hmm. I needed to be dumped by Travis and Ben first?” she asked with a scoff. “Lucky me.” She tilted her head to the side, looking up at him from her comfortable nest on his lap. “How about you? You know all about my disastrous relationships, but you never talk about previous girlfriends. I’m at a disadvantage.”

  He took a deep breath, leaning over her to grab the bowls and hand one to her. “Eat your ice cream.”

  “Are you avoiding the question?”

  “No,” he said, taking a huge bite. “I’ust’don’twannatalk’boutothergirlswi’you.”

  She sighed with pleasure as she took a bite of the semimelted ice cream. Lord, it was delicious. “I don’t want details, Rory. Just an overview.”

  He pursed his lips, digging his heels in. “No good can come from discussing exes.”

  “Oh, really? Because I’ve laid my heart bare,” she said. “And I don’t even know if you have exes. It’s not fair.”

  “I have exes,” he acquiesced. “Not many, but I have them. Some. A couple.”

  “From college?” she asked, letting more melted cream slip down her throat.

  “I dated someone in college, yes.”

  “Seriously?”

  He shrugged, taking another bite. “Exclusively. So, yeah, I guess it was serious for college.”

  “How long?”

  “Two years.”

  Her eyes widened. “That definitely sounds serious.”

  “We were eighteen when we met,” he said. “When I was twenty, I went to Ireland for a year and studied abroad. She went to Japan to do the same. That was the end of that.”

  “You didn’t try to make it work?”

  He took a deep breath and sighed. “It wasn’t practical. We, literally, didn’t see each other for a full year. And when we met up with each other again at college senior year, we’d both changed. Moved on.”

  “Nobody special in Ireland?”

  “I went on dates, but no. No one special.”

  Hmm. She didn’t speak “Rory” well enough to know exactly what a “date” was. Did that mean he had casual sex with a bunch of girls in Dublin? Or that he actually went on dates to dinner and such?

  “Serious dates?”

  “Mostly forgettable dates,” he said, finishing his ice cream and leaning over her to place his bowl back on the table.

  “How about after college?” she asked.

  “During my six glamorous years as the manager of Summerhaven?”

  “No cutie across the lake for bootie calls?” she teased.

  He froze and his eyes searched hers for a moment. “What do you mean by that?”

  She giggled. “I’m just kidding. It’s all family money and summer rentals on that side of Squam.”

  “Right,” he said, smiling at her and nodding.

  “So…no one special, huh?”

  “Not as special as you,” he answered, taking her bowl away and putting it on the table.

  His eyes darkened when he leaned back and Brittany placed her hands on his shoulders, shifting on his lap to straddle him. He sucked in a sharp breath, his dark eyes focused on hers as his hands dropped to her hips. Experimentally, she shifted forward, grinding gently against him. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and his hands on her hips urged her forward again. Her heart thundered in her ears as she was pulled flush against him. He was hard under his flannel pants, the thin layer of soft cotton riding up around his erection as she surged forward once more.

  For all that they’d spent every evening together this week, having dinner, kissing and making out over their clothes, they hadn’t been naked with each other yet. Nor had they spent a whole night with each other, though they’d dozed off spooned together on the couch twice. Both times he woke her before dawn and walked her back to her cottage before the rest of the camp awakened or arrived for work; a little old-fashioned gallantry that she appreciated very much.

  But after three nights of exploring what they could with clothes on, part of her ached to take some off.

  She moved against him again, and Rory’s body, which was muscular and toned, flexed and hardened for her. His cock, bulging in his pants, left no doubt as to his arousal as she teased him, shifting forward again.

  “Kiss me,” he growled softly, his eyes dark and dilated, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

  She cupped his face, dropping her lips to his and gasping when he pulled her flush against his stiff cock, grinding it into the apex of her thighs. Trembling with desire, she reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, then reached for her own and did the same. Wearing only a white lace satin bra, she rubbed her breasts against his bare chest, sighing with relief when she felt his fingers slide up her back and reach for the clasp. He opened the three hooks with a twist of his fingers, and she felt the elastic loosen, the ends drooping down at her sides.

  Leaning back, she held his eyes, reaching for the strap on one shoulder and sliding it down her arm before reaching for the other. Rory reached forward and pulled the bra from her body, his eyes never leaving hers as he placed it on the couch beside them.

  “Is this okay?” he murmured reverently as his hands skimmed up her sides to cup her naked breasts.

  “This is perfect,” she whispered, her breath hitching as he finally lowered his head to look at her.

  He dipped his mouth to suck one pert nipple between his lips, circling his tongue around the pebbled flesh. Brittany reached up to cup the back of his head and guide his movements, whimpering her pleasure as he caressed her with his mouth and tongue, his soft lips and hot breath. Yielding to him completely, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes, lost in a swirling that started in her stomach, taking her up, up, up until she was straining against him, her pulsing core flush against his throbbing erection.

  “Rory,” she cried, “it’s too much. N
o more!”

  His lips trailed slowly to the valley between her breasts, resting there, pressed against her shivering flesh as she cradled his head to her heart.

  Panting with the soft waves of her small, unexpected orgasm, coupled with her ever-deepening feelings for him, she felt overwhelmed. And as though he knew, or sensed the reassurance she needed, he shifted her on his lap, cradling her in his arms. Relaxing against him, she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  This is love.

  This is what love really feels like.

  Her words before, I like you better than anything, weren’t accurate at all. As his strong heart beat quickly under her ear, she recognized the truth of her feelings in a startling wave of certainty:

  I’m in love with Rory Haven.

  I never laughed with Ben. I never cried with Ben. I was so scared of pushing him away, I couldn’t be myself. But when I’m with Rory, I’m here, I’m with him, in the moment, aware of every breath, every sound, every touch, every feeling. I’m present. And I’m genuine. I laugh and I cry and I’m not scared that he’ll push me away, so I don’t hold anything back from him—I’m myself. I’m me.

  This is what love is.

  Rory took a deep breath, his chest pushing gently against her, and she looked up into his eyes, wondering if he could read the new tenderness in hers. He smiled at her, his expression surprisingly satisfied for a man who’d had relatively little satisfaction tonight.

  “What?” he asked, searching her face like he was trying to memorize it for the hundredth time.

  “You,” she murmured. “You’re wonderful.”

  He took a deep breath and sighed, reaching around her for her T-shirt. “Arms up.”

  “Why? You getting rid of me?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he said, working the sleeves over her raised hands, then giving her nipple a quick and final kiss before pulling the shirt down over her breasts. “Wherever I am, you’re welcome.”

  “I know,” she said, “that’s the miracle of you.”

  “No, mo mhuirnín. That’s the miracle of you…wanting to be here with me.” He dropped his lips to her throat and pressed them to her pulse. “For the record, ‘getting rid of you’ isn’t in my wheelhouse. I don’t think forever would be long enough to learn the angles and contours of you…but I don’t want to rush you or push you either.”

  “You’re not,” she said, though truthfully, she was a bit overwhelmed—in a good way—by what they’d shared tonight, coupled with the realization of her feelings for him. And with his usual intuitiveness, he just seemed to know.

  She leaned forward, pressing her lips to chest, her hands wandering over his angles and contours. Drawing back, she grinned up at him. “But you’d better put your own shirt on, or I might not be able to control myself.”

  He chuckled, picking her up from his lap and depositing her on the couch beside him. Then he leaned down and grabbed his shirt off the floor, putting it over his head.

  “I can’t believe next Monday is Memorial Day.”

  Rory nodded. “And the camp open house.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Kind of a party. We invite all the locals from the surrounding towns to come swim in the lake and use the tennis courts and ropes course for free. We bring out the grills and make hot dogs and hamburgers for everyone. Doug sets off fireworks before folks go home. It fosters good will in the community.”

  “Sounds fun!” said Brittany.

  “It is,” he said, “especially this year…with you here.” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, his forehead furrowing.

  “I know that look,” said Brittany. “What’s wrong? Spill it.”

  “I know you only booked Lady Margaret until Memorial Day, but it’s free until June 3. You could stay if you want to.”

  Her heart clutched. June 3 was only ten days away. Was this Rory reminding her that time was coming for her to be moving on? Had she misjudged what was blossoming between them?

  “Then I guess I’ll stay until the third,” she murmured, scanning his face.

  His grimace deepened, and he sighed. “Yeah. Great.”

  “I mean, as long as you want me to…”

  “Definitely,” said Rory. “Stay until the third.”

  But the third felt too close when the only place on earth she wanted to be was with Rory. Was she supposed to leave Summerhaven in ten days? Go back to Boston? The thought made her stomach clench. She didn’t want to go back “home.” The only home she wanted was here, at Summerhaven, with Rory. How were they supposed to keep their new relationship growing if they were a hundred miles apart?

  “I guess I’ll head home,” she said softly, standing up and snatching her bra form the couch.

  “No!” said Rory. “We can still watch TV. We can—Britt, stay…”

  “It’s okay. I’m really tired,” she said, forcing a brave smile as she hurried to the apartment door and wishing she had the courage to tell him that she wanted to stay a lot longer than June 3.

  ***

  The following night, Brittany headed to dinner and book club with Mrs. Toffle, and Rory was left alone without her for the first evening since Monday. Grouching around his apartment, he was disgusted by how much he missed her, but even more, he was seriously out of sorts over the way things had wrapped up last night.

  His intention had been to tell her that he didn’t want her to go at all; not after Memorial Day and not after June 3. His intention had been to ask if she’d ever consider making Summerhaven her home—even if it was just for this summer, to test it out. His intention was to ask her to live with him, to stay with him, however she felt comfortable—in Tierney’s room or sharing his—in a bid to get her to stay forever. Instead, it had all gotten muddled up, and all he’d done was shift her departure from May 28 to June 3, and it sucked. It wasn’t what he wanted at all.

  But everything between them was suddenly happening so fast. After mutual teenage crushes and a solid friendship that they’d been building for weeks, they were dating. No, it was much more than that. They weren’t just dating; Rory was in love with her. And if his eyes didn’t deceive him, her feelings for him were deepening by the day as well. But were they a couple yet? He didn’t know for sure. And he didn’t want to put pressure on her by asking her to put a name or definition on their new relationship, let alone ask her to uproot her entire life and stay with him.

  But if he didn’t suggest she move to New Hampshire, what was the alternative? Dating long distance? Commuting to Boston to see her once a week and hoping she’d do the same? He’d make the drive, and gladly, but he couldn’t help worry that they’d lose the easiness and intimacy of the relationship they were building. And he didn’t know how he could bear that. Because when he looked ahead at his future now, he saw Brittany in it.

  A knock on his door made his heart lurch with hope that book group had been canceled, and he raced to the front of the apartment. When he pulled it open, he deflated like a balloon stabbed with a pin.

  “Not who you were expecting, eh?” asked Tierney with one brow raised.

  “More like, not who he was hoping for,” said Ian, pushing passed Tierney and Rory to enter the apartment.

  “What are you two doing here?” asked Rory, closing the door behind his siblings and following them inside.

  “You and Britt missed dinner last night,” said Ian, sitting down on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table.

  Rory pushed them back onto the floor with a thud. “So what?”

  “So you don’t miss family dinners,” said Tierney, sitting down next to Ian, “without a good reason. And if that good reason is what we think it is, we thought you should inform us.”

  “What are you two? My watchdogs?”

  “Nope,” said Ian. “Yer deartháireacha.”

  Siblings.

  “Trí ciarde,” said Tierney.

  “With friends like you two…” said Rory, standing before them with his hands
on his hips.

  “So…?” prompted Ian. “Did what I interrupted last week finally happen?”

  “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” said Rory, giving Ian a look. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”

  Tierney grinned. “So it’s safe to assume you and Britt are an item now?”

  “I don’t know if it’s safe,” said Rory, sitting down on the coffee table across from them. “I can’t figure out what happens next.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Ian. “You fuck like rabbits and—”

  “Can you not be completely disgusting?” asked Tierney, elbowing Ian in the side.

  “—and I was going to say, before I was so rudely interrupted—get down on one knee, get married, have a dozen babies, and live happily ever after.”

  Rory grinned. “That’s not a bad plan…but don’t you think it’s a little premature? We’ve gone out on exactly one date.”

  “Pshaw!” exclaimed Tierney. “You’ve been circling each other for weeks. You’re mad for each other, Rory. Anyone can see it.”

  “There are a few problems,” said Rory pragmatically.

  “Like…?”

  “For one, she lives in Boston.”

  “Oh,” said Tierney, “and no one in the history of mankind has ever moved for love.”

  “Me? Move to Boston?”

  “I meant her moving here, but sure…you could move to Boston.”

  “How, exactly?” asked Rory, looking back and forth between his brother and sister and feeling defensive. “Abandon Summerhaven? Just toss up my hands and go along on my merry way? I’m not that selfish, and you know it. This place is everything to Mom and Dad.”

  Ian took a deep breath, leaning forward. “I could help more.”

  “No offense, Ian,” said Rory, “but you’ve only been sober for a few weeks.”

  “No. I’ve been sober since April 1. Coming up on two months now,” said Ian, lifting his chin. “And no offense, Rory, but you’re not the only one who can run Summerhaven. I grew up here just like you. If you want time away from the camp to do something else, I think we should talk about how to make it happen.”