“What?” I demanded.
“You have a little foam—” he rubbed his thumb across the tip of my nose “—right there.” Licking his finger, he motioned to the area between his eyebrows. “And there.”
My hand flew up to encounter a line of foam cutting across the bridge of my nose.
“Ah Christ.” I grabbed a napkin and rubbed it roughly across my face. “This is why I should stick to pouring whiskey.”
He laughed. “Yeah, probably. When’s your next shift anyway?”
“Tonight, actually, although my schedule isn’t really a formal arrangement, you know? I told my grandparents I’d help out while we figured out a way to staunch the loss of cash flow and then hire someone to do all the things my grandpa can’t anymore.”
“A new manager? Or were you were thinking something more drastic?”
Should I tell him what I really thought? I trusted him not to break my confidence, but this was family business.
“I don’t know,” I responded hesitantly. “I haven’t figured it out yet. There are still a lot of options to explore. At the rate I’m going, I won’t have a clear recommendation until well after Christmas.”
Declan grabbed a rag and wiped a slow, wide circle across the surface of the bar. The copper top was already clean so his actions puzzled me.
“So,” he said, after a few more swipes, “you’re planning to be here through Christmas?”
“I think so, yeah. I imagine it’ll take at least that long to wrap everything up here.”
“Hmm, interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, tossing the rag into a bucket next to him. Resting his palms on the bar, he added with a grin, “I’m just thinking about you being here for Christmas.”
I’d been thinking about Christmas too. My mom had texted again to ask if I was coming “home” to Boston for the holiday and I’d finally told her no. While Christmas at the Hodges’ was a holiday bacchanalia, it always a bit too forced for my liking. It didn’t help that I always felt like the odd woman out, as if I was intruding on their private celebration. It hadn’t been difficult for me to decide to stay in Ballycurra this year, and I didn’t feel at all guilty for using the situation with my grandparents as my excuse.
I glanced around the empty, quiet pub and imagined how it would look in a handful of weeks decorated for the holiday season, and realized how much I was looking forward to it. The last Christmas I’d spent here I’d been young and while everyone was down here making merry, I’d been upstairs reading or writing letters home. Then too, I’d felt like the odd person out.
When I glanced back, Declan was smirking, his irritating dimple on full display. Suddenly the only holiday picture I could imagine was kissing Declan underneath the mistletoe.
No! Must not think sexy thoughts about the sexy man.
Because even though that’s all I’d been doing lately, he’d done very little to indicate he was into me too. Sure, I’d caught him staring, but he hadn’t acted on those heated looks. At that moment, I realized I wanted him to, hoped he would … but nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.
I was beginning to wonder if I’d been friend zoned.
Chapter Twelve
Declan
“We’ll be open in another hour,” Cian called out as I stepped into the pub.
“What kind of welcome is that? A lad would think you weren’t happy to see him, you fecker, after you begged him for a visit.”
Cian’s face split into a grin and he stepped out from behind the bar and clasped me in a tight hug. “Hey, good to see you man,” he said, pulling back and standing next to Sophie, who’d also joined us.
“How long are you here?” she asked, and unless I was mistaken, I heard hope in herb voice.
I’d only intended this visit to be a quick stop in to my mam’s, but if Sophie was as happy to see me as the current look on her face indicated, I’d come by every fucking night of the week if I had to.
When I’d left the pub after our lunch the other day, I’d worried I might have made things weird between us. I hadn’t known what sort of favor she was going to ask, so when I realized it was a financial one, I froze. Ever since word got out about the contract I’d signed this spring with the Irish Rugby Football Union, I’d had a few people slither out of the woodwork to ask me for money.
I hadn’t wanted to think Sophie was like that, especially since I knew she came from money herself, but my reaction had been automatic. When she’d assured me she was only looking for my time, I’d relaxed. But then I’d felt weird about her not asking me to invest in the pub. If anyone could do it, it’d be me, and of course I’d give Colm and Maureen pretty much anything they asked for. That no one had asked for a dime suddenly made me feel like maybe we weren’t as close as I’d thought. Rationally, I knew my reaction was ridiculous, but when it came to Sophie Newport I wasn’t what you’d call a rational man.
“I’m just stopping in a couple of evenings this week. Mam insisted she needed my help decorating for Christmas.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to piss off Colleen,” Cian shuddered. “Anyway, you remember Sophie?” he asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Sophie Newport?”
His words held an added weight and I wondered why he was being so weird about her. Next to him, Sophie was blushing and chewing on her lip. As I looked between them, I had the weird sense I was missing something. And then I realized what it was. Sophie hadn’t told Cian we’d been texting and hanging out. But why hadn’t she? Was she ashamed to be friends with me?
“Sophie?”
Misinterpreting my question, Cian shook his head and grimaced. “This is going to be so good,” he said laughing. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d rather not watch you get gutted.”
I turned to Sophie and drank her in.
When we’d been kids, she’d had a golden halo of frizzy hair, but now she wore it in sleek waves that cascaded down her back. I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers through that mane, to wrap it around my fist when I fucked her. What those legs—miles and miles of legs—would feel like wrapped around my waist.
Of course I remembered Sophie Newport. I’d never forgotten her. And since she’d come back, she was all I could think about. Needing to touch her—something I’d avoided doing so far the couple of times I’d seen her—I reached out and clasped her hand in mine. Something snapped and sizzled between us, like when you stuck a battery against your tongue, but this current hissed throughout my whole body.
“Sophie,” I whispered, running my thumb over her palm in slow circles. Her name, spoken quietly so only she could hear it, came out sounding like a cross between a growl and a moan.
She closed her eyes and licked her lips, confirming she felt it too, whatever was happening between us.
When Cian returned, his eyes bounced between us.
“How could I forget Sophie?” I asked, answering his earlier question.
When I eventually dropped Sophie’s gaze and met Cian’s, he looked … curious, scheming. I knew that look and I didn’t like it. But then it was gone, replaced by a mask of indifference I’d grown to hate. Ever since his injury, Cian had become a master at hiding his thoughts. Not to be too much of a chick about it, but it hurt he didn’t trust me enough to share his feelings. I’d tried calling him on his bullshit once before, but he’d brushed my words aside, told me I was imagining things.
Well, I sure as shit wasn’t imagining what I’d just witnessed. Cian didn’t want me flirting with Sophie, and I wanted to know why. I could guess, but did I really want to go there?
Cian was a natural born charmer, and I knew the effect that charm had on women. Shit, everybody knew. All Cian had to do to get a girl was smile, say a few sweet words, and she’d be putty in his hands. But Cian wasn’t just a charmer. He was also a major player, going through women like I went through socks. He’d practically plowed his way through every girl in Ballycurra before we’d gone off to Dublin.
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We both had.
And yet somehow, while my behavior had been the talk of the town, his reputation had remained untarnished but I hadn’t wanted to rat him out. I’d always figured one of his girls would be the one to do that, but nope. Never happened. He’d said it was because he stayed friends with them in case he wanted to go back for seconds. Fuck if I understood how that worked.
What I did understand, though, were Cian’s motives now. As he stood next to Sophie glaring back at me, he gave himself away.
His voice flat, he said, “From the way you’re holding her hand, I’m guessing you already knew Sophie was back in town and have become … reacquainted.”
Maybe I was just projecting, but he sounded spiteful. Yes, she and I had become reacquainted, but not in the way he insinuated. Not that I was opposed to getting acquainted with Sophie in that way—hell, it was all I could think about—but the snide way he’d hinted that’s what this was about was disrespectful.
Dropping Sophie’s hand, I warned him he was treading on dangerous ground. “Watch it man.”
Cian laughed cynically. “Oh, that’s rich. Declan O’Shaughnessy jumping to protect someone’s honor. I never thought I’d see the day. And to think, all for someone he’s only ever treated like garbage.”
I stepped into Cian’s space, but Sophie—her eyes flashing with anger—angled herself between us. Putting her hand to my chest, she pushed me backward, and mouthed, “I got this” before turning to Cian.
“Cian Kelly, what is your goddamned problem?” She settled clenched fists on her hips. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you or what sort of pissing contest you’re trying to start, but don’t you dare.”
Cian took a step back, surprised by her forcefulness. Lifting his chin toward me, he asked, “Why’d you keep him a secret?”
“What?! I didn’t keep him a secret,” Sophie spat out, her tone exasperated.
“You didn’t tell me you knew him.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we’d become besties who told each other everything.”
Cian’s face turned red and I wondered if he was blushing or if it was from anger. I was tempted to ask, but Sophie was on a roll. I almost wanted Cian to continue goading her to see how far she’d go.
I snorted when she added, “Ooh, I know! Why don’t you come over tonight and we can stay up all night braiding each other’s hair!”
When Cian’s eyes narrowed and he inhaled a shallow breath I knew he was picturing being up all night with Sophie’s hands in his hair, but in his vision he wouldn’t be braiding it. How did I know? Because when she’d said it, my own thoughts had ventured to me riding her hard from behind with her hair wrapped around my fist, her neck taut, and Cian and I were cut from the same cloth.
Stepping forward, I laid my hand on Sophie’s shoulder and Cian’s jaw tightened as he took a step back. He was close to reaching his breaking point and I didn’t want him exploding at her. I loved Cian like a brother but he came from a long line of Kelly men who had mean streaks a mile long and an ocean deep. He could yell at me later, but right now I needed him to chill the fuck out.
“No, you’re right Sophie,” he answered, calmly. Too calmly. “We’re not really friends and there’s no reason I should care who you spend time with, even if the guy you’ve chosen is the biggest fucker in all of Ireland. You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.” The look he tossed me was pure disgust. “Best of luck to you both,” he spat, as the door slammed behind him.
“I should go after him,” Sophie whispered. “I was kind of a bitch and I didn’t mean to be.”
“Let him be. He deserved everything you gave him and more.”
Sophie turned to face me. “What’s his problem anyway?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted with a frown. “I should probably go find out. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yeah, of course,” she said, wrapping her arms protectively around her waist, her eyes flicking to the door Cian had stormed through.
My eyes trailed her gaze and my feet followed, leaving her standing there with a worried look on her face. I promised myself one day I’d kiss those frown lines away for good.
“What the fuck was that back there?” I demanded and the smug bastard flipped me the bird.
“Not happening, Cian.” Taking effort to keep up with Cian’s long strides since he had a good five inches on me, almost all of it in his legs, we marched to a line of parked cars. “That back there was a load of bullshit and you know it.”
Abruptly, he stopped and turned. “Fine. It’s bullshit. Whatever you say.”
“Dude, what’s your problem?” I was well past the point of irritation but was trying my hardest not to show how pissed off I actually was. “You know how I feel about her.”
He snorted. “No, I don’t, and you don’t either because you don’t even know her. You know what you think you know about her, but that’s it. You’re hung up on some version of Make Believe Sophie. You always have been.”
“Again, bullshit.”
“Is it though, Dec?” His face softened, and the aggressive glint in his eye faded. “Tell me one thing you know about her.”
“She’s a travel writer.”
Another snort. “Too easy. Half of Ballycurra knows that. What else?”
It seemed like every time I set foot in this town I had to endure an inquisition about Sophie and what my intentions were. Had I known that’s what I was in for today, I might have stayed home.
Who was I fooling? Nothing could keep me from coming to see her.
I shuffled my feet and looked at the ground.
I could probably tell him a hundred things about Sophie she didn’t even know herself. I’d made a study of her for years, and now that she was back, we’d talked more than I’d ever talked with a woman I wasn’t related to. Yeah, I knew her.
“That girl will cut a bitch,” I said, laughter in my voice.
“No, she wouldn’t,” he snorted.
“And she’s sarcastic and witty” I added. “She has a wicked sense of humor. She has the best laugh.”
“That girl’s one of the sweetest people I know. There’s nothing wicked about her. And when did you make her laugh?”
Ah, there it was. If Cian’s glares back at the pub hadn’t given him away, this conversation would have.
My gut clenched.
I hated that Cian had fallen for Sophie. No woman had ever come between us, and it scared me to think she might.
Briefly, I wondered if I could walk away from her if it meant salvaging my friendship with Cian. But just thinking that, my heart beat frantically against my ribs. No, there was no walking away from Sophie Newport. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Which was terrifying since she was leaving soon.
“You’re into her,” I observed. Pacing a few steps back, I asked, “How could you?”
Cian rubbed the black stubble on his chin. “Fuck you,” he spat. “I’m not sniffing around your precious Sophie.”
“No?” I asked. “You’ve only spent the last … what has it been … three weeks hanging out with her, keeping it a secret. I’m not an idiot.”
“You sure about that?”
“What the fuck is your problem?” I shouted, immediately regretting it when Mrs. Maloney stepped outside her gate to take her ancient dog on its daily walk.
“Hello Mrs. Maloney,” Cian and I chorused in unison.
She looked sharply between the two of us. “Cian, good to see you again. How’s the hotel coming along?”
“Just fine, Mrs. Maloney. Should be open for the summer season.”
She craned her neck and zeroed in on me. “And you, Declan O’Shaughnessy. Are you going to bring that cup back to Ireland again this year?”
The cup in question was the trophy for the Six Nations Championship. Ireland had won it three years in a row, but after a terrible upset at the Rugby World Cup where we’d had our asses handed to us by the Australians, and a few early losses for the
provincial teams in the European Champions League, there was a lot of speculation whether Ireland could win an unprecedented fourth championship in a row. Personally, I wasn’t worried, but I was just one man on a thirty-five-man squad.
“That’s the plan,” I assured her.
“Well, you see to it,” she ordered, then shuffled away before pausing about ten steps beyond. “Oh, and you boys stop hollering at one another.”
She shook her head, and fixed us with a defiant glare before tsking for her corgi to follow.
“Yeah, Declan. Quit hollering at me.” Cian snickered, a smirk bordering on a full on laugh kicking up his lips.
“Get stuffed, arsehole,” I grumbled.
“As I was saying,” Cian continued, “You’re way off the mark, man. About me wanting her, and about her being someone she’s not.”
“I don’t think I am. In either case.”
“You’re only seeing what you want to see.”
“You think I want to see my best mate slobbering after the woman I might l—” Catching what I’d been about to admit, I snapped my jaw shut while Cian’s fell open.
“Holy fuck.”
“Yeah,” I answered solemnly. “I know.”
“But dude, she hates you.”
She might have, years ago … but she didn’t any more.
“Nah, she really doesn’t.”
He tried to interrupt, likely to tell me I was fooling myself but I knew what I knew and that was some time in the last couple of weeks, Sophie’s feelings for me had shifted. I couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, exactly, but there were two things in this world I knew completely: rugby and women. And I knew Sophie wanted me. Even if she hadn’t admitted it yet to herself.
“Ah fuck man, you’re not exactly trustworthy where women are concerned. You’re only going to hurt her all over again.”
“That’s not my plan.”
“What is your plan?”
His scrutiny was unnerving. The way he eyed me now, I wondered if I could trust him. I didn’t think so, not with how he felt about Sophie too.
“Why? So you can sabotage me?”
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 9
