Wild Irish_One Wild Finn

by R. G. Alexander

  He tightened his grip when she tried to tug her hand away. “I remember sexy, fearless Bronte who dared me to marry her. The one who made me fly her to Niagara because she’d never been to the falls. The one who wanted to experience a lot of things she’d never done before.”

  She closed her eyes. Along with everything else she’d done that night, she’d managed to block it out, willfully ignoring the fact that their last minute elopement was her idea.

  She’d blamed his pheromones, the margaritas and his desire to stay stateside so he could be with his family since she’d woken up beside him. She’d acted like the injured party in front of his family. “I punched you…”

  William started gathering the now-empty food containers, looking uncomfortable. “Don’t saint me, darlin’. Go back to giving me hell and we’ll both feel more comfortable. I proposed to you first if you’ll recall. And I knew you’d been drinking. Knew as soon as your friend left I should have seen you safely home and left it at that. I saw an opening and took it without considering all the possible consequences.” His jaw clenched. “And I’ve done a damn sight worse than that in my life. More than you’d be comfortable knowing.”

  Bronte swallowed her response and yanked the covers more firmly around her. That was why she was here, wasn’t it? He’d given her the perfect opening to deliver her message and read him the riot act for making her feel like an extra in some mafia movie.

  She looked into his eyes and hesitated. He was worried about what she thought of him? If he was really the guy he’d been describing, the man other people had no problem implying he was, how did she explain his protective reaction to something that happened to her two decades ago? The thoughtful presents and insightful texts? The fact that he’d had the opportunity to take her just now and he’d focused on her pleasure instead.

  How do you explain the way he makes you feel?

  “Try me,” she said, shocking herself. “You might be surprised at what I can handle.”

  “You’re always surprising me.” William ran a hand over his forehead, rubbing his temple. “Can we put a stopper in it for a while? I’d like to be the man who rocked your world for a few more hours, instead of another mistake.”

  Something clicked into place inside her in that moment. A delayed realization that made her forget to breathe for a few seconds.

  God, she was an idiot. A blind, stubborn, mule-headed—

  She got to her feet, taking the bed covers with her. “We can do that. How about I repay the chef for the best sandwich in Baltimore by following the rest of those instructions you were given?”

  His brow furrowed in question, eyes lingering on her lips. “What instructions?”

  “Pat’s,” she reminded him, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “You were supposed to feed me and bring me to the pub tonight, right?”

  At his nod she smiled. “Good. Why don’t you give me a few hours to recover, and you can pick me up later so I can meet your new friends?”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s happening right now? Are you trying to get rid of me? If I leave, will I come back to find an empty room?”

  She put her hand on his bare chest, inwardly moaning at the muscles that flexed in reaction. “You’re a fighter. You’ll understand if I need to go back to my corner and catch my breath until the bell rings again.”

  She added a reproachful look. “You did already mention how tired I look. Twice.”

  “You’re a beauty and you know it.” He leaned into her, his previously broken nose skimming her cheekbone, her jaw. “Will we get another turn in the ring, Bronte? Will you let me taste you again? Feel you tighten up around me?”

  God, she hoped so. “Will you tell me what you think I wouldn’t be comfortable knowing?”

  He tensed, releasing a pent up breath. “I think I’d do just about anything you asked me to. And I’ve never said that to another living soul.” He leaned back to look into her eyes. “What about you? You still haven’t mentioned what you came here to tell me. Is it that bad, then?”

  “Can we put a stopper in it for a few hours?” she hedged, repeating his request. “You can be the man who rocked my world and I can be your…”

  “Wife,” he said with a rough satisfaction that caused a ripple of awareness to shiver through her body.

  “I was going to say date.” She put one finger over his lips before he could contradict her. “Later.”

  He put his shirt back on and tugged her close for a kiss. By the time she was ready to beg him to stay he let her go, smiling wickedly and shutting the door behind him.

  Cocky, punk ass leprechaun.

  She dropped the blanket and walked over to her purse, trying to catch her breath as she dug around for her phone. As soon as Tasha answered, she dropped onto the bed and touched her lips with trembling fingers. “We need a new plan. Let’s talk loopholes.”

  Chapter Four

  William wanted to kick himself for leaving Bronte alone. Didn’t he have enough experience with her to know what a mistake that was? Every time she’d gotten close to letting her guard down in the past, in person or on the phone, something would happen and she’d shut him down again, leaving him back at the start again.

  Something had changed between them. She’d responded to him. Opened up and shared a part of herself no one else had ever seen. That had to mean he was finally getting through to her. That his plan to wear down her defenses was actually working.

  Or it would make her more closed off than ever and he should have snagged her wallet, or held her car keys as collateral in case she tried to run.

  He would have if he hadn’t been reeling from her revelations. His gut had told him the first time they’d met that she was the kind of woman who pushed aside her own pain, her own desires for others, but he’d had no idea the extent of it.

  The thought of anyone hurting her sent him into a rage. He wasn’t the best of men, but he had never considered taking a woman against her will. Men like that, the ones that believed they were owed something and took what they hadn’t earned? He had no qualms about showing them the error of their ways, or letting one of his friends bilk them for everything they had.

  As if that makes you a hero.

  It didn’t. He had no illusions about what he’d been. A bookmaker’s muscle. An opportunist who wagered on his fists with gullible tourists and ambitious idiots. Where Bronte had taken her pain and used it to heal other people, he’d used his as an excuse.

  When he was younger, fighters had been his heroes. He’d soak up stories of Dempsey and other Irish boxing greats like a sponge. He was mad for Muhammad Ali and watched all the Rocky movies enough to have them memorized. His happiest memories were when his father took him to sparring matches, even getting him a pair of gloves for his twelfth birthday. His dreams of glory died with his parents, but not his instincts for survival.

  Since he’d been spending time with this branch of Finns, however, he’d been remembering those old dreams and thinking about forging a new path for himself.

  After marrying Bronte and helping his cousin, James, out of a sticky situation, he’d known his days of dive bars and dangerous company were behind him for good. He’d started looking at property near Finn’s to open a sparring club of his own. An honest club. No gambling allowed.

  If he wanted to deserve a woman like Bronte, he had to be thorough and aboveboard every step of the way. He had to do it right.

  He’d do whatever he had to do to keep her, but this visit had him flying blind.

  William took his phone out and made a call. “Tanaka? Did you or that giant you call a fiancé happen to spill any important secrets you swore to me you’d keep recently?”

  “Hello, William. I’m fine,” Ken said wryly. “And I think you know we haven’t. It’s been months. If the rest of your family knew your paperwork went through two weeks after you left, they’d have all descended by now, wondering why you haven’t come home. The way we do on a regular basis,” he added af
ter a pause.

  He squeezed the back of his neck, pacing his living room. “You know why, man. I’ve told you more than once.”

  “Yes, yes. The grand plan. Saving money for a business, wooing your wife, absence giving the heart blue balls and so on.”

  “That’s right,” he said defensively. “It’s a good plan.”

  “Which is why I’ve been helping you and keeping my mouth shut. It’s also not the whole truth. You’ve still got that one problem you can’t figure out how to solve and you haven’t bothered to fill me in on it. Or were you planning to come home with that monkey still on your back?”

  Shit.

  “How did you find out?”

  Ken’s chuckle was dark. “I’m that good. And despite your reputation as the family scoundrel, you don’t really have that much larceny in your soul. It’s kind of funny you should call tonight, since the situation has recently changed.”

  William froze. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing we can’t handle, but I can’t get into all the details right now. We can talk more tomorrow.”

  He couldn’t—? “What the fuck, man? You can’t say something like that and then fob me off.”

  “You’re not in any danger and I told you we could handle it, so stop worrying,” Ken said firmly. “In fact, we might even be able to finally deal with your situation once and for all so you can get back here and your cousins can stop asking me for updates.”

  William sighed. “I apologize for dragging you into this.”

  “I volunteered. Now how about you tell me why you’re suddenly asking about your secret citizenship? What’s going on?”

  “Didn’t you know? My wife has decided to pay me a visit.”

  “I see. And you’re wondering if it’s to get an annulment because she knows you’ve been stringing her along? Trying to win her heart with dinosaurs and yarn while you go legit and learn all the words to the Star Spangled Banner?”

  William made an obscene gesture at the phone. “It crossed my mind.”

  “She doesn’t know,” he assured him. “At least, she didn’t hear it from me. Also, interesting fact, everyone else thinks she’s on vacation with her friend, Erica. So you aren’t the only one keeping secrets in that relationship.”

  He supposed she’d have to lie, since not a one of them knew he was her husband. A fact he planned to fix as soon as possible. “Why the devil is she here?”

  “You could ask her. Just a thought.”

  He had. She’d managed to avoid telling him so far.

  You haven’t wanted answers as much as you wanted her. Or did you forget this afternoon already?

  “Tomorrow,” William said abruptly. “I’ll want those new details tomorrow, Tanaka.”

  “Ditto, Billy. I’m sure we’d all like to know what Bronte’s been up to.”

  He hung up on the hacker and headed for the door, wondering if he could lock his wife in her hotel room until she told him what he wanted to know. Preferably naked and tied to the bed.

  His phone buzzed in his hand and he absently slid his thumb across the screen, seeing a message from the woman herself. Was she going to cancel or tell him she was already on the road?

  The image attached made him weak.

  Bronte was smiling for the camera, fresh-faced as ever, but wearing a dress that was bound to get him into a fight.

  She was also already at the pub. He knew this because he could see a few familiar faces smiling broadly behind her.

  I decided to meet you there.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  He locked his door and took the stairs two at a time, forcing himself not to run.

  She wasn’t going anywhere. And the Collins men knew better than to let anyone near her.

  He had to reevaluate his assessment of their intelligence as soon as he walked in the door. “Who the hell is that?”

  Finn Young, who was taking his shift behind the bar, laughed at the shouted question. “That is the goddess you apparently tricked into marrying you,” he answered easily. “Nice work on that, by the way.”

  “I’m referring to the man dancing with her. The one who’s got too many teeth in his head and needs help solving that problem.”

  “Him?” William heard Pat ask as he joined him at the end of the bar. “That’s an old professor friend of Keira’s husband. He stops by occasionally, wrongly hates our Ravens and took your wife away from a perfectly pleasant conversation, which means I’m in your corner. You should go bring her back immediately and with minimal to no bloodshed, if you please.”

  William was already walking across the room. It hadn’t been five minutes since she’d sent that text and some pompous looking, silver-haired prick was moving in on his woman.

  He tapped on the man’s shoulder, scowling down at Bronte when the two separated and glanced his way. “Mrs. Finn,” he emphasized. “I thought you were saving the first dance for your husband.”

  “Oh,” the professor looked down at her with a distancing smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised someone’s taken you off the market already. But I’d still like to buy you a drink. When he gets here, I’ll get one for him as well.”

  Bronte’s laugh swept away most of his ire, though the entire situation was damn insulting. “I’m already here, man.” He patted him forcefully on the back, his grim expression belying his tone. “And I’d love a pint. We’ll meet you over by the bar as soon as we’re finished.”

  She was still laughing when he swept her into his arms, tucking her hand tightly against his chest. “Think that’s funny, do you?”

  “Hilarious,” she affirmed, looking up at him with an apologetic sigh. “But you don’t.”

  “I’m for anything that makes you smile, Nightingale.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “And anything that keeps me from thinking about the fact that you went out in public without me. In that dress. Aren’t you cold?”

  The look she sent was a warning. “I wore a jacket, William. And there’s nothing wrong with this dress. I know because it isn’t one of Austen’s and she told me it was too conservative when I picked it out.”

  He pulled back enough to take it in. Cobalt blue with long sleeves and a hem that floated around her knees and clung to her everything. The swooping neckline alone was making it hard to concentrate. How was a man supposed to dance with an erection that could hammer nails?

  “Your sister was mistaken.”

  Her smile then made him want to beat his chest. “I’m taking that as a compliment. I’m not even sure why I brought it. My plan was to drive up, have a quick conversation with you and drive back.”

  He pushed the stabbing pain aside at her admission. “That’s what you told yourself. But you brought a suitcase full of clothes. And you brought this dress because you wanted to wear it for me.”

  “You’re so cocky,” she grumbled. “I don’t remember being that cocky when I turned twenty-five.”

  William stopped her mid spin and gripped her wrist, fast walking her to the small storage closet off the bar. She protested, but he wasn’t listening. They needed to get at least one thing straight between them, here and now.

  He led her inside then pressed her against the closed door, hands dropping to her ass and squeezing with enough force to make her yelp. “I’m a grown man, Mrs. Finn, and I have been for a while. I’ve lived hard, practically raised two kids who are still breathing and I know how to take care of what’s mine. We have enough on our damn plate, and I don’t have the patience to let your vanity or other people’s views get in the way of what’s between us.”

  “Vanity?” She glared before looking away from him with a muttered, “That’s a little harsh.”

  He gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “It’s the reality you’re so fond of. In case you haven’t checked your messages, you’re the only one I want to talk to morning and night. You’re the only one I see. It’s been that way since you handed me my ass in the emergency room and I had to g
et away and regroup before I made a fool of myself.”

  “Really?”

  William looked heavenward, as if asking for help. “You could drive a man to drink. Yes, really. And if our roles were reversed this wouldn’t be an issue.”

  He nodded, quickly warming up to that argument. “That’s right, I said it. If I were a hot, young thing, fresh off the boat and you were an older man? No one would bat an eye and you’d be telling everyone in shouting distance, preening like a bloody peacock instead of keeping me your sordid secret. I’m right, aren’t I? And you know what that means? It means your issue with my age is sexist. What do you think about that?”

  “Damn.” She leaned against the door and blew out a loud breath, her eyes wide. “And there I was thinking you and my previous dance partner had the market cornered on sexism. You going all caveman and he…”

  “What? What did he do?” He really wanted to hear what she had to say about Professor Lickarse.

  “Well, I hate that phrase, off the market. First of all, I’m not for sale and I have never been for sale. Every time someone asks if I’m on or off the market, I want to give them a lecture on human trafficking and the slave trade.”

  William hid his face in her neck before she could see his smile.

  “It’s true,” she insisted, but he heard the humor in her voice. “And while I don’t know if I’m being sexist, ageist or any other damn ist you can accuse me of in this closet you’ve trapped me in, I’ll try to stop bringing it up because you make a good point. Satisfied?”

  He nuzzled her cleavage and growled. “Not remotely. But there’s nothing we can do about it until I let Old Pat and the others get to know you better.”

  She slid one hand around his neck, absently caressing his hair in a way that made him want to purr. “I heard you’ve been talking about me. I’m not sure why, but I hope I live up to the hype.”

  “They knew as soon as they saw you that I didn’t do you justice.”

  “Keep saying things like that and round two is definitely happening.”