Off Course

by Sawyer Bennett

  Cady stops walking and turns to face me. "Don't, Renner. That fucking ass-wipe broke the rules, not you. You just got caught in the crossfire. He's not worth the time or energy for you to even be thinking about him."

  Sighing, I grab her arm so we can start walking again. "I know. I mean, deep down, I know. But it's so unfair how it all played out. I think I'm a loser magnet. What's wrong with me?"

  "There nothing wrong with you, sweet girl. You've just had a run of bad luck, is all. Or maybe you're looking in the wrong places for the right kind of love."

  Hmmmmm. That made me think.

  My past relationships were always built on the theory that the more stable and responsible a man, the better partner he'd make for a long-term relationship. I'm not going to lie--I've always had that sweet dream of marrying a successful businessman, and living in the suburbs with a white picket fence, and three angelic children running around in the front yard with our perfectly groomed Golden Retriever named 'Beau'.

  It's what I had envisioned when I met and started dating Cormac. He's a pilot with Delta and we met when I started on the Dublin route from JFK. He seemed to be the perfect candidate for my ideal relationship. He's educated, has a respectable, great career and makes good money. His hair is perfectly groomed and he is always neatly pressed. To my way of thinking, this practically equated to solid, relationship material.

  But I was so wrong. So very, very wrong.

  We finally make it to Cady's house, having ran the last two blocks when her mom called demanding to know why we were late and telling us that we were holding everyone up. We were both breathless by the time we crashed through the front door, giggling and holding on to each other so we weren't staggering too much.

  "Come in to the dining room, girls. We're all in here," Aunt Shannon calls out.

  Dropping our purses by the front door, we head that way, our arms still linked together. I'm looking at Cady as we walk in, as she is telling me about the time when Teagan was locked out of her apartment naked.

  "It's about time you girls showed up. Look who we invited to have dinner with us!"

  Both of us turn and my mouth falls open. Sitting at the dining room table is none other than Cillian. He still looks every bit the rock star with his lip rings gleaming, although he's actually wearing a pair of dress pants and shirt, I'm assuming out of respect to my Aunt and Uncle for their dinner invitation. He has a shit-eating grin on his face when our eyes make contact while he leans back in his chair, his arm casually draped over the chair to his right. I don't know if it's the wine, or if my senses are just assaulted by the perfectness of him sitting there, or maybe it's that diabolical grin he's shooting at me, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Why did you invite him?"

  I hear Uncle Keefe make a coughing sound and Aunt Shannon reaches over and pops me on the back of the head. "Where are your manners, Renner Caldwell? Cillian is a welcome guest in our home. He's practically family."

  Not in the least ashamed over my reaction to Cillian, I dutifully duck my head and mumble, "Sorry."

  "That's a girl," Uncle Keefe says. "In fact, how about you sit over there by Cillian and play nice."

  Cillian's grin gets even wider and he removes his arm from the chair so I can sit down. Having no choice, I take the seat offered and I can practically feel the triumph radiating off him.

  As I scoot my chair in, he leans in to me to murmur so only I can hear, "You look sinful tonight, Renner. Father O'Grady would have me stapled to the confessional if he knew the direction my thoughts were takin' right now."

  God help me, but his words cause my skin to hum and my head to swim. But I don't want him to know he affects me so I merely turn my head and glare at him. He holds my glare and doesn't flinch or look away. In fact, a leisurely smile slides onto his face before he turns to Uncle Keefe.

  "I appreciate you letting us have our welcome home party at the pub last night, Keefe."

  "It was my pleasure. You know you're welcome there any time. Have you given any thought to playing there this summer... for old time's sake?"

  I tune out as they continue to talk and concentrate on eating my pot roast. I try to pay attention to something--anything--other than Cillian and his excruciatingly sexy presence sitting next to me. I make detailed work of cutting my roast up into perfectly sized bites. I quarter my potatoes and line them up in a circle. I place my carrots side by side and pretend they're an army getting ready to advance on the bread sitting on the edge of my plate. I'm trying for anything to take my mind off him, yet his nearness is still overwhelming.

  It doesn't take long and it always happens when you get the Gannon's together, but an argument of epic proportion breaks out. And one thing I've learned that will cause them to fight like cats in heat is rugby. When Uncle Keefe, Aunt Shannon, and Cady are reaching a fever pitch over whether Connacht will beat Leinster, Cillian uses the opportunity to talk to me.

  Leaning slightly over and turning his face to me, he says, "You didn't honestly think you could hide from me, did you?"

  I push a carrot around my plate and consider my answer for just a second. When I turn to look at him, I have to steel myself against the blatant sensuality I know will be waiting in his eyes. "I had hoped I could hide, but apparently I can't. Would it make any difference if I told you that it was a huge turn off the way you're stalking me?"

  His lips curl up high and his tongue flicks out over his two lips rings. "It wouldn't make a difference to me. Besides, I know you're lying to me and yourself. There's a part of you... maybe deep down... that's enjoying my attention. Besides, I never give up on going after what I want."

  Gah, this guy is so arrogant and full of himself. And he's wrong. There is no part of me that enjoys his presence. I mean, he's gorgeous on a scale that even I can't measure, and sure, he has the hot, rock-star vibe going, but I am so not interested in that.

  It's not my ideal.

  Wiping my mouth with my napkin, I look at him with determination. "Seriously Cillian... why me? Why not go pester some other woman with your attention?"

  Cillian leans in closer so he's whispering, clearly not wanting the others to hear. "First, I'm not pestering you. I'm trying to make it clear that I want to fuck you into oblivion. Second, there is no other woman that I'm interested in. Clear enough for you?"

  Swallowing hard, I merely nod my head. "But I'm not interested."

  Leaning back in his chair, Cillian just grins at me. "Oh, you're interested all right. You're just not being honest with yourself about it."

  My face flushes red. "Is it possible for you to be any more arrogant?"

  I'm hoping the question shames him, but he merely shrugs his shoulders. "Probably not."

  I go back to pushing the carrots around on my plate. The Gannons are still going full tilt on their argument and completely ignoring Cillian and me.

  It's not long before he cuts into my thoughts again. "Why aren't you interested in me? Have I done something to offend you or make you mad?"

  Squaring my shoulders, I tell him, "No, Cillian. You've done nothing to make me mad or offend me. I'm just not interested in someone like you, so you can stop pursuing me. The answer is no and that won't change."

  "Someone like me?"

  "A musician. I like my boyfriends a little more professionally balanced."

  "Ouch. That hurts, love. But who said anything about me being your boyfriend? I'm just after a long, hot shag with you."

  Trying to maintain my calm, not because his words anger me, but--God help me--because the thought of no strings, walk-away-when-we're-done sex is suddenly a thrilling prospect. Shoring up my resolve, I say instead, "Sorry... just not that type of girl."

  Cillian just snickers but then I hear him say softly, "You could be that type of girl, Renner. If you just let yourself go. And I guarantee you'd enjoy it."

  CHAPTER 4

  Cillian

  I step into The Hibernian and do a quick look around. I don't see Renner but I know
she's working because Keefe casually mentioned it when I called him earlier today to check in.

  It's been two days since I've seen her and I can't stand it anymore. I need to step up my game if I'm going to wear her down.

  I'm not sure what this obsession is with Renner. Sure...she's beautiful with her red hair and pale skin...like fire and cream. But that's not it because let's face it... there are plenty of red-haired beauties in Ireland. Maybe it's the challenge she presents--particularly because she's trying her damnedest to show she's not interested. Or maybe it's simply unfinished business I feel I have with her. Even after five years, I remember how soft her lips were against mine. I remember how she was too shy to touch me, so she just grabbed a hold of my t-shirt and hung on. And I certainly remember how hard that kiss made me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Renner clearing off a table and make my way toward her. She doesn't see me, which is just fine for now. I slip into a booth and wait patiently for her to notice me.

  After she returns from the kitchen and serves an older couple, her eyes make contact with mine and she actually grimaces.

  Yup. I definitely need to step up my game. I flash her a smile that she does not return, but she does walk my way.

  "What are you doing here, Cillian?"

  "I'm just here as a paying customer. I'd like to order some dinner if it's all the same to you."

  I just stare at her for a few moments, taking in the way she has her long hair pulled up in ponytail, displaying her slender neck. She's wearing a pair of dark jeans and a Hibernian t-shirt, along with a pair of running shoes that look like they've seen better days.

  "Fine, what do you want?"

  "You know what I want, Renner."

  And there it is... the cherry red blush staining those cheeks. That's what I wanted to see.

  "I mean... what do you want to eat?" She grits each word out, trying to maintain some level of civility, but on the verge of absolute failure. My goal is not to piss her off too badly so I take a step back.

  "Actually, could I see a menu? It's been awhile since I've had a meal here and I'd like to see what Keefe has to offer."

  She rewards me with a long-winded sigh and turns her back on me, walking up to the bar. Rather than walk around, she merely steps up on the ledge and leans over to grab a menu. I'm treated to a phenomenal view of her ass when she does this and I have to bite a hole in my tongue not to groan out loud.

  Returning to me, she drops the menu on the table and says, "What do you want to drink and I'll go get that?"

  I open the menu and peruse it. Not looking up, I say, "A Guinness will be fine, darlin'."

  She moves off and I lift my eyes to watch her walk away.

  My brow crinkles in consternation. I don't get her aversion to me. She certainly found me pleasant enough five years ago. The staring contest we had the night I played at Mac's told me all I needed to know. She was attracted to me as much as I was attracted to her.

  She said she's not mad at me, and that makes sense... since I don't think I did anything to piss her off. I mean... things started to get a little hot and heavy between us that night, but she told me to stop and I stopped. I respect a woman's right to say no when things go beyond her comfort level.

  So it comes back to what she told me the other night. I'm apparently not... what did she call it? Professionally balanced? I'm not sure what the hell that means but I'm dying for her to explain it to me. That is, if I can get her to actually have a conversation with me.

  When Renner returns with my Guinness, she just waits patiently for me to tell her my order. I look up at her and say, "I'll have the cheeseburger with a side of chips."

  She quirks an eyebrow at me. "Seriously?"

  "Uh... yeah, seriously. What's wrong with the cheeseburger?"

  She shrugs her shoulders and mumbles, "I just figured you'd want something more traditional."

  Chuckling, I give her a mischievous grin. "Why? Because I'm Irish I can only eat corned beef and cabbage or something?"

  I'm surprised when I see just the tiniest uplifting at the corners of her mouth, and I hold my breath, hoping she'll reward me with a full-blown smile but it never comes. She merely grabs the menu and turns her back on me again.

  Sighing, I reach into my backpack and pull out my laptop. My intent today is to stalk Renner and hopefully force some conversation, but I know I'm in for the long haul so I came prepared to do some work. Besides, I find I write some of my best lyrics while sitting in a pub and enjoying a beer.

  After I boot up my laptop, I pull up a blank document and stare at it for a while. I've had an idea brewing in my head about a new song. One that has to do with the whole concept of risk and reward. Thinking of Renner, and how buttoned up she is, an idea immediately comes to mind and I start typing.

  ***

  I'm so absorbed in my work, I barely notice when Renner sets my food down. I don't want to lose my train of thought so I barely give her a glance and mutter a thanks. I let the cheeseburger sit there, and continue typing.

  After about twenty minutes, Renner returns. "Aren't you going to eat your food?"

  I look up at her and rub my eyes, then glance at my plate. Shit... I completely forgot about the burger, which is weird because I actually came into The Hibernian hungry and wanting a meal.

  "Sorry... I got caught up and forgot about it."

  Pushing my laptop aside, I reach toward the plate but she beats me to it. She picks it up, sighing. "Let me go at least heat it up for you."

  Without another word, she turns on her heel and heads off to the kitchen. I can't help the smile that comes to my face. That's major progress, in my humble opinion.

  When she returns, my nose is again glued to my laptop and I'm not paying attention to my surroundings. I know this because she merely takes my laptop and pulls it away from me, right while I was in the middle of typing a line of lyrics.

  "Hey," I say, a little irked that she would disturb my work.

  Setting my plate down in front of me with a little more force than necessary, she just glares at me. "Eat your damn food. I don't have time to run back and forth to the kitchen all night heating it up."

  I give her an appraising look after I pick the burger up from the plate. "My apologies. And thank you for warming this up for me. I think you might like me a little bit, after all."

  Renner just snorts. "Hardly. I'd do it for any customer. Besides...I couldn't remember if I spit in your food the first time I brought it out."

  She says this with such a serious look on her face, my hands freeze just before the burger reaches my mouth. I start to lower it back to the plate, when she breaks out into a full-fledged grin. "I'm just kidding, Cillian. I wouldn't be so crass as to spit in your food. Rat poison, maybe... but I'd never lower myself to spit."

  Reassured, I take a huge bite and sigh with pleasure. Keefe does know how to make great food. While chewing, it doesn't escape my notice that she's not leaving and this heartens me a bit. I quickly swallow and wipe my mouth.

  "Take a break and join me for a bit."

  My statement seems to shake her and she looks startled, as if she's just realized that she's staring at me.

  "Um... no thanks. I'm not due for a break."

  "Well, if you are due one soon, I'd love for you to come sit with me a bit and let's catch up."

  She contemplates my request, I know, because I can practically see the wheels spinning in her head. She continues to stare at me, neither accepting my offer to join me, nor turning away to get back to work.

  I decide to wait her out, and just return her look. Finally, she blurts, "Your tongue's pierced."

  My eyebrows rise involuntarily, so surprised I am by her statement. "Yes."

  "I just saw it... just now when you took a bite of your food."

  "Uh-huh." I have no clue where she's going with this.

  "You didn't have it five years ago. Or the rings in your lip."

  "No, you'd definitely remember my piercings if
I had them when we kissed, no doubt. Are you interested in seeing what it's like to kiss me now that I have some metal involved?"

  Her face stains red again, and I mentally clap myself on the back for getting to her. She just shakes her head and turns around to leave me again.

  The rest of the night is uneventful. I sit in my booth and nurse one more Guinness. Renner checks on me a few times, but I shoo her away, absorbed in my writing. The lyrics seem to be flowing, and I'm able to pen three songs over the course of the night. They are very rough, and will go through several edits, but I think the bones are good enough that they'll eventually be recorded.

  Glancing at my watch, I curse to myself. I've been sitting here for almost four hours and my goal of getting to talk to Renner was completely sidelined by my work. I stretch my arms up and glance around. The pub is deserted and it's no wonder... it's about time for it to close. I notice the check is on the table so I pull my credit card out of my wallet and throw it down.

  Sliding out from the booth, I head to the bathroom to take a piss. When I return, I find Renner has already ran my credit card and the slip is there for me to sign. I take a moment to calculate the tip and make it super generous because... well, because I can.

  And then I wait...patiently. Because if Renner thinks I'm just going to leave without saying goodbye, she has another thing coming.

  Within fifteen minutes, she's back and picks up her copy, without even looking at the tip I gave her. I'm ready for her though and reach out to snatch her wrist, rubbing my thumb along her beating pulse point. "I'm walking you home tonight, so don't think about dashing out of here without me."

  Her green eyes go wide, and I'm absolutely triumphant when I realize it's not disdain, but rather wonderment. But then she quickly puts her mask back in place. "No, thanks. I'm perfectly able to walk myself home."

  "You can walk out of here, and walk yourself home, Renner, but I'm coming with you."

  "Why?" she demands.

  "To make sure you get home safe. And hopefully, to get you to talk to me."

  She pulls her wrist away from me and I release it. I don't want to antagonize her. "Why can't you just leave me alone, Cillian?"

  She's frustrated, and I just don't get it. I'm not a bad guy, I've been told by more than one woman I'm pleasing to look at, and I'm successful. I don't understand her reticence.