February Stars: Wilder Irish, book two

by Mari Carr

  He’d purposely avoided looking at Ailis. She was sitting with Les, the man who held far too much power over Hunter at the moment. This man could make or break him. And while the reasonable part of him knew this was only one audition, that there would be other chances, right now, all Hunter could feel was the unbearable weight of all or nothing.

  Unfortunately, Ailis was usually his go-to in the crowd whenever he was singing. He’d catch her gaze as she was waiting tables, and her smile would encourage him to try that little bit harder. Tonight, however, he deprived himself of her face, too afraid of what he would see there.

  However, he was two songs in. Which meant it was time to face the devil. As he started playing the next tune, he forced himself to look at Ailis’s table. She and Les were leaning close to each other, deep in a very serious conversation. Ailis nodded, and then stood at the same time Les did.

  He was leaving. He’d only stayed for two songs.

  Hunter forced himself to start singing, grateful he’d picked “Brown Eyed Girl.” He could sing the song in his sleep he’d played it so many times. Plus, the crowd never failed to join in, which meant he could let them carry it if his voice faltered. Which he feared it might. Disappointment was closing in, crushing him.

  Ailis walked Les to the door. That was as far as Hunter would let his gaze travel before staring at the wall in front of him. He didn’t want to see the disappointment on Ailis’s face. He felt like a big enough failure without having to acknowledge that he’d let her down as well.

  He kept singing, his eyes focused solely on the old Irish Whiskey advertisement someone had framed and hung there about a million years ago. Hunter was grateful when he neared the end of the song. He had only played three, but he was done. There was no way he could push himself to finish the set.

  That was when Ailis stepped in front of the picture that had been his saving grace. She blocked his view of the ad, giving him an exasperated look. Then she threw her hands up in a classic “what the fuck” gesture that clued him into the fact she’d obviously been trying to capture his attention.

  The song ended and he paused, uncertain what to do next as he stared at Ailis.

  She put him out of his misery with one brighter-than-the-sun smile and two thumbs up.

  “You’re in,” she mouthed.

  And the entire night shifted. Just like that.

  His nerves vanished, replaced with a joy so big he was surprised there was enough space in the pub to hold it all. Suddenly, with the change in his attitude, the atmosphere in the room changed from somewhat stifling, to party of the century. He was flying high as he belted out song after song. Everyone sang along, getting louder, growing livelier. It felt like Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve all rolled together.

  Ailis started waiting tables, delivering pints of Guinness and Natty Boh and shots of Jameson.

  His gaze kept returning to hers as she laughed and sang along and even shimmied through the tables, much to her customers’ delight. She was so different from the woman he’d known back when she’d dated Paul.

  He’d always thought of her as this quiet, shy wallflower, hovering so far in the background it was easy to forget she was there. Paul commanded all the attention and Ailis was just sort of a shadow.

  Nowadays, she was all he could see. It was weird. Every time he walked into a room, she was the first thing his eyes focused on. It was as if she had some beacon strapped to her, shooting out this bright light that blinded him to everyone and everything else.

  He brought the set to a close, thanking everyone for coming out. “I appreciate your willingness to face Tuesday morning with a hangover just to support me.”

  As he packed up his guitar, several women came over to the stage, one of them carrying a beer. He was used to this. Hell, he enjoyed this part. Women liked musicians. He’d figured that out in high school, hence the garage band. He used his guitar to pick up women the way some men used cars or corny lines or expensive gifts. Ailis called them his groupies, giving him shit for getting carried away with their attention.

  Unlike his quiet best friend, Hunter wasn’t as good at denying himself physical pleasure. Ailis insisted on love and commitment and forever. Hunter was just fine with thirty minutes and the backseat of a car.

  However, tonight, there was only one person he wanted to celebrate with. And she just happened to be walking by with an empty tray. “Excuse me a minute,” he said to the three women jostling for position and the shot at getting him into bed.

  “Hey, Ailis. You got a minute?”

  Ailis glanced at the three women and smirked. “I think the real question is, do you?”

  He didn’t have a chance to reply before the boldest of the three women called out to him, “Why don’t the four of us continue the party at my place, Hunter?”

  Hunter turned around in surprise, studying the women. They weren’t fighting for dibs? What the hell were they offering? An orgy?

  He leaned closer to Ailis, whispering in her ear, “I just need a minute.”

  If she was surprised by his request, she didn’t show it. “I’m going to steal him away for a second, girls. Hunter and I need to talk business.”

  Ailis took his hand and guided him toward the back hallway that led to the restrooms. He noticed none of the women put up a fuss or looked very concerned. Apparently, they didn’t consider Ailis a threat.

  Ailis tugged him into a storage room, turned on the light and shut the door.

  “Thanks. I needed a minute to catch my breath.”

  She frowned, looking confused, and he knew why. He never walked away from a beautiful woman, let alone three.

  “You know I won’t hold you to that no-dating thing if you really want to go home with those women. I really only made that vow for me. I didn’t mean you had to deprive yourself of fun as well.”

  “I’m cool.”

  He wasn’t. He’d been struggling to get his bearings since New Year’s. He had done what he always did that night, rolled with a feeling, let his gut drive him. Ailis had been tense and horny as hell, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

  For some insane reason, he’d thought he could take care of that problem without it affecting him. Jesus. What a fucking joke. He’d spent the better part of yesterday on his couch with a hard-on that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he jerked off.

  Then he realized something he’d never really considered before. Ailis was gorgeous, sexy, hot as hell. She had inherited her mom’s long, silky red hair and she had this shy smile—one she often tried to hide behind her hand—that took his breath away. It was easy to overlook her appearance because, like everything else about Ailis, she somehow found a way to make herself smaller. That had never bothered him until he’d seen the way Paul had looked at her at the club. And the way those three women had let her take him away without a word of complaint.

  He didn’t like the way she pretended to be invisible. He had met her nine years ago, when she and Paul were still just friends in college, and until this last year, he’d never once realized how smart, how funny, how fucking beautiful she was. It was like she pulled a veil over herself.

  Now that he thought about it, she was still doing that. She hadn’t considered for one second that he might turn those women down for her.

  Dammit, she was there the other night. She knew he’d walked around for an uncomfortable amount of time with a fucking hard-on in his pants, wanting her. How could he not? Her responses to him when he’d lain her down on that stupid tiny bed were so much more than he’d expected. He’d actually thought she might be a little repressed when it came to sex. Instead, he’d been introduced to sex incarnate. She was open, daring, passionate and, God help him, submissive. Try as he may, he still couldn’t wrap his head around that detail.

  “You do know what they’re offering you out there, right?”

  He scowled. “What do you think?”

  “So you know that, and you still wanted to escape? Why? Isn’t that
sort of a guy’s ultimate fantasy? Three girls at once?”

  He grinned, forcing himself to get them back to something resembling normal. Ever since that kiss in the club, he’d been fighting like the devil to keep his growing desire for her in check. Regardless of the definite chemistry, he and Ailis were about as different as two people could get. Losing Rhonda had been tough, but he’d bounced back. Something told him if he ever crossed the line with Ailis, and things didn’t work out, losing her would be devastating…and recovery wouldn’t come easy, if at all. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not flattered by your high opinion of my stamina and sex drive.”

  She snorted. “Shit. I just inflated that oversized ego even more.”

  Hunter ignored her jest, changing the subject to something safer. “So Les liked the songs?”

  “Oh, God! Of course, you want to know what he said. He liked the songs just fine, but what he really loved was you. Your voice, the image, the whole thing. He was completely blown away.”

  “But he only stayed for two songs.”

  Ailis smiled. “He’d already decided after the first one.”

  “Damn,” Hunter muttered, floored by her words and overwhelmed with more happiness than any person could cram into a single body.

  “Hmph,” she huffed. “I’m going to pretend I’m not insulted that you didn’t take my word for how great you are, but instead had to hear it from someone else.”

  Hunter laughed at her fake annoyance. “I apologize for not trusting your opinion, mouse. I mean it’s obvious you’ve got my number. From my talent to my sex drive, I’m an open book to you.”

  “You’re an arrogant asshole.”

  “And you’re a good friend.” Even as he said it, that word felt wrong. She was so much more than a friend. But he couldn’t put any other word out there in the universe. They were already on shaky ground.

  Ailis flushed slightly. He was used to her blushing whenever anyone paid her a compliment, but he wasn’t expecting the visceral, punch-to-the-gut reaction he had to it this time.

  “So, what are you going to do about the groupies? They’re still waiting for you.”

  Hunter tried to read her look. Was she jealous? Was she as fucked up as he was after the other night?

  Ever since the night Rhonda and Paul had dumped them, he’d become…what? He tried to think of a word. The best he could come up with was protective. He was getting tired of people looking through Ailis. It pissed him off.

  “They can wait all night. I’m not going anywhere with them.”

  “Want me to shoo them away? Make an excuse for you?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t need a fake excuse. I already have a reason for staying right here.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You’re here.” That was all he said before he bent down to kiss her. Again.

  He’d opened the floodgates at the club, and since then, the memory of his lips on hers was all he could think about. He’d chalked that first kiss up to impulsiveness and stupidity. Two things he excelled at.

  Ailis had accepted his kiss that night without complaint. He figured that acquiescence was half shock, half saving face in front of Paul. On New Year’s, she’d gone along with the game, pretended it wasn’t him. And this afternoon, she’d rolled with his kiss at the store, probably because he’d kept it short and downplayed the desire behind it.

  This time, the shock value was gone.

  She pressed against his shoulders, forcing him away. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I think that’s pretty obvious. I’m kissing you.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I want to.”

  “But what about those women? I thought—”

  He wiped away whatever else she might say with another kiss—this one harder, more demanding. Her lips parted on a gasp and he took advantage, rubbing his tongue against hers. Ailis responded briefly before her brain got in the way again.

  She twisted her face away from him. “Hunter. Stop. The other night, when you—”

  Before she could finish her statement, the door to the storage closet opened and Padraig walked in. Neither he nor Ailis missed the shock on her cousin’s face.

  “What the hell’s going on in here?” Padraig asked, when he spotted what obviously looked like Hunter making unwanted advances.

  Ailis tried to shrug out of Hunter’s grip, which prodded him to tighten his hold. She wasn’t getting away from him that easily. “Oh thank God, Paddy. Hunter just attacked me. Beat him up.”

  “Attacked you?”

  Hunter rolled his eyes. “By ‘attack,’ she means I kissed her.”

  Padraig looked at Hunter, scowling. “Why are you kissing her?”

  Hunter glanced at Ailis, who was still fighting tooth and nail to free herself from his arms. Her face was flushed and her lips plump, wet, inviting. “Because she needs to be kissed. A lot.”

  Padraig looked from Hunter to Ailis and back again, then he chuckled. “Yeah. I think you’re right. Carry on.”

  Ailis’s mouth fell open as her cousin grabbed the case of beer he’d come for and opened the door.

  “You’re going to leave me here alone with him? Where’s that overprotective bullshit you and every other Collins male exerts whenever some guy comes sniffing around?”

  Padraig shrugged as he pointed at him. “That’s not some guy. It’s Hunter. And he’s right. You do need to be kissed.”

  With that, Padraig left, closing the door behind him.

  Hunter lost no time taking advantage of the opportunity. He kissed her again, cupping her cheeks, loving the way she stopped trying to push him away.

  Instead, her hands found their way around his neck, allowing him to lower his arms to pull her body more fully against his.

  Hunter was acutely aware of Ailis’s breasts and her tiny waist and her firm ass.

  She gasped when he cupped her ass cheeks, renewing her fight once more. “Dammit, Hunter! You’re going to have to explain what it is you’re hoping to accomplish here.”

  Hell if he knew. He wasn’t like Ailis. He didn’t think things through to their logical conclusions prior to taking the first step. He flew by the seat of his pants, jumped in with both feet and hoped there was enough water to soften the impact.

  He was kissing her because he’d discovered she was a good kisser. And he wanted her. Which was probably going to be problematic, considering her ban on men and his desire for a rock star lifestyle. Something Ailis said she didn’t want, though every time those words crossed her lips, he heard Paul’s voice speaking them.

  But because those realizations were counterproductive to what he wanted right now, he ignored them. “Do we have to figure this out, mouse? Why can’t we just enjoy ourselves for a little while?”

  “I have no idea how to do that.”

  She didn’t mean her comment as a joke, but he laughed anyway. Because he knew she was telling the truth. Spontaneous wasn’t her style. The most impulsive thing she’d ever done was quitting her job, but even with that, he suspected she’d simply put the pieces together faster than most mere mortals could have with a freshly broken heart. She couldn’t have continued working with Rhonda. That was a no-brainer. Rather than hem and haw, she’d cut the cord, which was the practical, logical answer.

  “Why are you laughing? I’m being serious.”

  Hunter slipped his hands to her hips, holding her in place, unwilling to let her take even one step away from him. “I know you are. It’s not in you to lie. Which is why I’m going to give you the truth as well. I have no idea why I’m kissing you. All I know is I like it. I like the way you taste, the way you smell, the way you feel in my arms. I can’t really give you any more of an answer than that.”

  “The way I smell?”

  “Coconut and apples.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I ran out of shower gel before shampoo. Decided to switch up scents.”

  He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Do we have to have
a reason besides the ones I gave you?”

  She looked up at him and for a second, he thought he was going to win. He should have known better.

  “Yes. We do. Do you want to date me?”

  Did he? He hadn’t really considered such a thing. Given the fact he’d just been handed his dream come true on a platter career-wise, he wasn’t sure embarking on a relationship was such a great idea. He needed to concentrate on the competition.

  “I don’t know,” he hedged, employing the old toss-the-question-right-back method. “Do you want to date me?”

  She shook her head. “Hell no. You’re a womanizer. A player. A musician with three groupies waiting outside that door to go do some sort of orgy shit.”

  He would have laughed at her orgy comment if he wasn’t so pissed off by the rest. “Nice to know you think so highly of me.”

  “See,” she said, trying to break free of his grip. He didn’t let go. “This is what I mean, Hunter. Things that don’t bother us as friends would drive us nuts if we were dating. You view commitment as if it’s the plague.”

  “Better that than your approach to relationships. You can’t spend five minutes alone with a single man without cataloguing all his pros and cons and analyzing whether or not he’s husband material. Every date doesn’t have to end with a marriage proposal.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “You kind of do,” he said, still feeling the need to defend his honor. “You know I don’t fuck every woman I go out with.”

  She lifted her eyebrows haughtily. “You kind of do.”

  “Right, so no more kissing. Got it.”

  Hunter let go of her, stepping away to give her room to walk to the door.

  He expected her to storm out, but instead, she turned to look at him. “Are we in a fight?”

  Just like that, the steam cooled. He shook his head. “No, mouse. We’re not.”

  “So you’re not mad at me?”