Irish Kiss: A Second Chance, Age Taboo Romance (An Irish Kiss Novel Book 1)
Page 26
My da took me back to his farmhouse. This time we went inside the lab.
Its setup was surprisingly professional. Rows of stainless steel tables, cupboards of beakers and trays, all brand new. And shiny machines.
It was unlike the school lab where I’d spent so much time, cheap laminated tables with burn marks and graffiti on them, chipped or broken equipment, low inventory of chemicals and ingredients.
A small rush filled my insides, even as it was tainted with this feeling of…wrongness.
I was getting my very own lab.
My own lab.
“Well, baby girl, this is where you’ll be working. You like it?”
I nodded. I did like it, the space at least.
Chemistry was like cooking. You just needed a recipe and to understand the process of change that the molecules went through when you combined them or treated them in a particular way in a particular order. It was precise. It was still science.
I could ignore what I was making. Right?
“I’ll need some things,” I said. “Ingredients…”
Acetone, anhydrous ammonia, ether, red phosphorus, lithium... There were thirty-two ingredients needed. I’d looked up the process earlier.
I glanced up to the ceiling. “And I’ll need better ventilation installed. Industrial-sized exhaust fans. The fumes can be toxic.”
My da grinned, pride glowing on his face and warming up my skin like the summer sun. “Whatever you need, baby girl.”
53
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Diarmuid
After I told Saoirse to get herself reassigned, I ignored her texts.
I hated myself for it.
But it was my only hope of getting out of this rock and a hard place with Niall. If she demanded to be reassigned, Niall had no leverage on me.
I waited every day for the announcement from my supervisor that Saoirse had been taken off my case.
That announcement never came.
Saoirse didn’t show up to our usual Friday meeting. She didn’t answer my text message asking if she was okay when I caved and messaged her.
I fucked up.
I know I had.
But what else could I do? I implore you, what else could I do?
The days dragged, each one feeling empty and brittle, each one without sunshine or magic. I went to work, I went to the gym, I went home. And I saw the ghost of Saoirse everywhere: in my truck, at O’Malley’s, in my bed.
Another week came and went and another Friday approached. I only remembered that I was meant to go to Declan’s fight that night when Marla had reminded me at the coffee shop that morning.
“Are you still taking me out tonight?” she’d asked with a flush to her cheeks. “I bought a new dress.”
Right. The fight. The date I was supposed to be having with an adult woman.
I had asked Marla to come with me weeks ago and forgotten all about it.
The last thing I wanted to do was to sit through a date and pretend to be involved in the conversation. I was being more of a prick than usual lately, my temper short, my replies at work even blunter than normal. Marla didn’t deserve to hang around my grumpy ass this evening.
But I couldn’t back out now. Firstly, it wouldn’t be fair to Marla. She’d bought a new dress, for fuck’s sake. Secondly, I’d never hear the end of it from Declan.
I forced a smile. “Of course. Pick you up at seven thirty. Fight starts at eight.”
Seven thirty came and I arrived at Marla’s apartment to pick her up. She appeared at her door wearing a pastel green floral dress that fit her perfectly and fell to just above her knees. A grey jacket over the top of it, makeup on and her red hair piled up on top of her head.
She looked sweet, ladylike. Exactly the kind of grown woman I should be interested in.
Except, I frowned… This was not the kind of outfit a woman going to a watch a fight should be wearing. She looked like we were going to go out for tea.
I felt completely monstrous next to her in my distressed denim, boots and leather jacket. At least I’d run a comb through my hair and tied it back. And I’d trimmed my short beard yesterday.
“You look…nice,” I said to her. Apparently, I’d left my thesaurus at home. I still managed to coax a blush out of her.
As I leaned in to kiss her cheek I caught the scent of her fruity perfume and I found myself wishing for the smell of roses and honey.
We drove to the theatre where the fight was being held, and I parked in the VIP parking lot, a smaller section next to the public one. I got out and faltered for a second before realising that Marla was waiting for me to open her door.
Jesus. I was such a dick. What was I thinking going out with any woman? I had to be reminded to even open doors for them.
Except Saoirse. You never forgot to open the door for her.
I shoved that thought away and ran over to help Marla out of the truck.
A roar of a motorbike screeching to a halt in the public parking lot caught my attention. What held my focus was the flash of long blonde hair coming out of a helmet.
Jesus fucking Christ. That was Saoirse.
She was getting off the back of a motorbike, wearing distressed jeans and black combat boots teamed with a black leather jacket.
The guy who’d been riding in front of her took his helmet off. It was the same douchebag with a motorbike who dropped her off at the boxing gym: Malachi fucking Walsh.
At least this time he’d gotten her a helmet.
My blood boiled at the thought of Saoirse sitting on the back of his bike, her arms wrapped around his waist. Her place was beside me in my truck, not on the back of some asshole’s bike.
I don’t know how long I was staring, the noise of engines and slamming car doors fading into the background.
I swear she felt me watching her. Actually, I know she felt the tug, the same one I did whenever she was near. Because she turned right then and her eyes locked onto mine from across the parking lot.
Her eyes widened. Then her features hardened. She turned to her date, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder. She laughed and placed her hand on his chest.
It took every inch of willpower not to go over there, rip her arm off him and beat the living shit out of him.
“What’s wrong?” Marla asked from my side, her hand slipping to my tense forearm.
I forced my eyes away from Saoirse, uncurling my fists from my side. I tried for a smile but was sure it came out like a grimace. “Nothing. Let’s go find our seats.”
I told myself not to look back at her as Marla and I entered the VIP door to the theatre.
But I failed.
Every time I looked at Saoirse, she was looking back at me.
54
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Saoirse
I knew that Declan Gallagher was Diarmuid’s close friend. I’d suspected that I might see Diarmuid here—not that it had anything to do with the fact that I wanted to come—but it was still a shock to see him with someone.
Damn him.
He had a date with him.
A fucking date.
A woman, full grown, with a sophisticated dress sense and a pretty ladylike smile.
Unlike me.
Suddenly I hated that Malachi had his arm round my shoulders, leading me into the theatre. He’d been pressuring me for weeks to go out with him. I’d said no because I thought that Diarmuid and I were going to become something. How stupid I had been.
I was coerced, partly by my own father, into coming with Malachi. I was originally supposed to go with my da to the fight; he’d told me about the tickets he’d bought days ago. But at the last minute, something had happened out at the farm, which meant my da had to go and sort it out. He sent Malachi in his place to pick me up.
I hadn’t wanted to get on the back of the bike. Not until he produced a second helmet. Even then, I heard Diarmuid’s warning in my head. I made Malachi drive like a grandma, pinching him on his side every time
he went too fast or took a corner too hard.
The theatre was round, velvet red seating rising up from the fighting ring positioned in the centre, ornate boxes hanging around the walls. It was a strange juxtaposition between the elegant eighteenth-century theatre, more used for Shakespeare and opera, and the modern gladiator show that was on tonight.
Malachi and my seats were near the front, close enough to smell the sweat, to see the frown lines on the referee’s face. My da must have paid a lot of money for these tickets.
I spotted Diarmuid and his date sitting in the section to my right just as the light dimmed. He was smiling at something she said, his attention on her.
Bitch.
I hated her already.
The announcer’s voice came on introducing the two fighters that would start the match. Declan Gallagher and his opponent were the main match and would come out later. I barely heard the announcer calling the warmup fighters’ names or when the first round bell clanged. All I could see was Diarmuid.
I swear his eyes were on me.
I couldn’t tell you when it started.
Like most brawls, all it took was one flare, one strike of a match. Add that to testosterone-filled air soaked in tension and booze, and whoosh. It all went up at once.
A push became a punch and then all of a sudden the crowd around us had turned into savage beasts.
“Oh fuck,” Malachi said, his hand gripping my arm.
“We have to get out of here,” I said.
Someone slammed into me from the side and I fell into Malachi, letting out a scream. We tumbled, almost falling on the floor between the seats. Holy shit. Getting hit wasn’t the only risk; getting trampled was a possible reality too.
I shoved at Malachi as we stayed crouched down low. “Go, keep moving, towards the exits.”
He remained frozen at my side.
I almost rolled my eyes. Malachi talked tough, dressed like a tough guy. But it was all show.
A figure grabbed me, yanking me to my feet. There was a male, some rage-drunk spectator, his eyes wild, his arm raised back to hit.
I braced for the hit, throwing my arms up to shield my face.
It never came.
He was yanked back off me, causing me to wobble at his disappearance.
Diarmuid’s face and wide shoulders took up my entire vision. “Are you okay?”
My breath whooshed out of me. Diarmuid was here. He’d saved me from being hurt.
Even as the sounds of violence, the screams and crack of breaking glass echoed around us, I was safe. Because he was here.
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
Diarmuid pulled me against him, his arm wrapping around my shoulder. “Thank God.”
His lips brushed my forehead, and I closed my eyes as I leaned into him, sucking in his scent of leather and his woodsy cologne.
“Hey,” Malachi’s voice pierced through my peace, “Get your hands off my… You.”
I opened my eyes in time to watch Malachi’s face drain white, having obviously recognised Diarmuid.
“Fuck off, kid,” Diarmuid growled. “I’m taking her home.”
Malachi didn’t even protest. He just scrambled through the seats.
Diarmuid kept me close as we made our way out of the theatre, his strong arms shoving brawlers away from me so that they never got close. He was my walking bodyguard. My shield. My protector.
At the entrance, when we made it out into the night air, the chaos behind us, he let go of me, having no need to keep me close anymore.
My stomach dropped. Did he regret coming for me? Did he remember that he didn’t want me around?
Then he grabbed my hand, our fingers lacing together, his eyes soft as he eyed me over as if to assure himself again that I was okay.
“Stay close,” he said, and for once, it sounded like a request.
55
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Diarmuid
When the brawl started I just reacted without thinking, leaping from my seat and running towards it.
Saoirse was stuck in that mob.
I wasn’t leaving without her.
I used my weight and strength to push my way through the crowd, thankful that my height allowed me to spot the flashes of her blonde hair.
When I’d found her, her fucking asswipe date cowering behind her, I’d almost lost it. I could see the fear in her eyes. I hated that she had to feel such fear. If she had been hurt…?
I should have just decked that Malachi like I’d wanted to.
But Saoirse’s safety came first. Getting her out of there was more important.
I led Saoirse through the parking lot towards my truck, tugging her behind me, her tiny hand in mine making my chest swell with purpose.
I was shaking from the adrenaline. High from the fight. From being near her.
I wanted to get her somewhere quiet so I could strip her of her clothes and check every single inch of her to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Until I neared my truck.
There was Marla standing by my driver’s door, her arms wrapped around her waist.
Oh fuck.
I’d forgotten about my date. The second the danger erupted around Saoirse I could think of no one and nothing else except for finding Saoirse and getting her to safety.
Now I was walking towards my date holding another woman’s hand. I was an asshole, but this was even beyond me.
I let go of Saoirse’s hand as if it were on fire.
Only realising afterwards what that might look like to Saoirse. I’d been holding her hand until we got in sight of another woman.
Double fuck.
I was fucking up left, right and centre tonight.
“I lost you in the crowd,” Marla said as I approached.
“Shit. Yeah, sorry about that.” Guilt weaved through me. I had lost Marla because I’d been too focused on finding Saoirse. “I’m glad you got out.”
Marla shrugged. “I wasn’t anywhere near the fight. But you looked like you ran straight into it.”
Straight to the arms of another woman.
God, I was an asshole.
Marla’s eyes went past my shoulder and widened. Shit. Here we go.
“Hi,” Saoirse said from behind me, unease in her voice.
“Hi.” Marla’s voice sounded unsure, too. Marla’s eyes went back to mine. “Who’s this?”
“This Saoirse. She’s…a friend. One of my kids.”
I felt Saoirse stiffen beside me
“She’s lost her ride home,” I explained to Marla.
Saoirse snorted. “Diarmuid scared off my ride home.”
I whirled around to her. “The only thing that dickwad wanted to ride was you.”
Saoirse slammed her fists onto her hips and glared at me. “What’s wrong with that, Diarmuid? I’m single and I’m legal.”
“May I remind you that your date was using you as a shield before I arrived. He is not worthy of you.”
“That’s none of your concern.”
I rolled my eyes, unlocking the truck with my keys. “Get in the truck.”
“I’m not sure your date would appreciate you taking her and another woman home.”
I could strangle her.
I stormed around to the passenger door and yanked it open, pointing into the empty seat. “Get. In. The. Truck.”
Saoirse shot a look to Marla. “I’m sorry he’s such an asshole. It’s probably best you learn this upfront.”
“Saoirse,” I warned through gritted teeth.
She rolled her eyes and stomped her way over to me, sliding into the passenger seat with an ungrateful huff. I shut the door on her, then turned to my date, who was staring at me with wide eyes.
I forced a bashful smile. “Some night, huh?”
She didn’t answer.
I helped Marla into the back seat of my truck before I got into the driver’s seat.
It was more convenient to drop Saoirse off first, but… “I’ll...er, drop you off first, Marla.”
I’d be alone with her.
Something I’d been trying to avoid doing. And yet, like the masochist that I obviously was, I barrelled straight into trouble.
56
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Saoirse
I was sitting in Diarmuid’s truck with his date.
How the fuck did I get here?
I’d forgotten about his date the instant that Diarmuid had appeared before me, throwing that spectator aside like he had been a doll. I forgot all about her when he held me close, pushing our way to the exit. I’d forgotten everything except for him, especially when he laced his fingers into mine and tugged me across the parking lot to his truck as if I was his.
Then the bastard let go of my hand the moment her saw her. His real date.
Even now in the passenger seat of his truck, his date in the back, my stomach stung with jealousy.
It didn’t matter that he had come for me when the fight had started. He had arrived at the fight with her.
She was a grown woman, closer to his age, someone that he should be with. And she seemed sweet, too. That’s who Diarmuid needed. Someone sweet. Someone not like me.
We pulled up in front of what I assumed to be his date’s house.
“Well,” she said from the back seat, “it’s been interesting. Nice to meet you, Saoirse.”
“Oh, uh, you too.”
I realised I didn’t know her name.
She got out of the truck.
Diarmuid opened his door. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
I watched with a heavy heart as Diarmuid chased his date to the front steps of the porch. If he kissed her, I would throw up. When he leaned in I had to turn my head.
How could he do that with me watching? Did he want to torture me?
The driver’s side door opened quicker than I expected, making me flinch.