The Irresistible Irishman: For St. Patricks Day (A Holiday Springs novel)

by MJ Fields

  Copyright © 2021 by MJ Fields and Jessica Ruben

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Kari March Designs

  Edited by Donna Cooksley Sanderson

  Proofed by Julie Deaton

  Photographer Wander Aguiar

  Model Christopher H.

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-954122-14-8

  Paperback ISBN 978-1-954112-12-4

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  A Taste of The Broody Brit

  Rule Number One

  More Books By

  More Books By

  About Jessica

  About MJ

  Chapter One

  A ber lernt men oykh oys tantsn.

  (Even a bear can learn to dance.)

  - Yiddish proverb

  Sarah

  Looking around the bar at the drunk patrons hanging all over one another with green beads dangling sloppily from their necks, I quickly realize, being single on Saint Patrick’s Day sucks.

  I’m sure it would’ve sucked just as much every other holiday over the past two years had I been aware, but the truth is, I was too busy at life back then to notice just how bad it was. I was mending a broken heart, attempting to live the best I could within my limited means. I was too busy trying to be physically and mentally healthy just to get through the day-to-day. Busy moving away from the very town I’m currently sitting in the picturesque Holiday Springs.

  I sip my Blue Moon, well, ‘Green Moon,’ thanks to the two drops of food coloring the bartender squirted in the glass before pouring the beer from the tap. It coats my stomach with heaviness while helping to soften my current reality of watching those clueless to my struggle, loving life, flirting with each other and dancing drunkenly to the 80’s music like they’ve only got one life to live. A point that was continually drilled into me for endless months as I battled for my own life. It’s all I can do right now not to let my emotions crumble. I take another long swallow, wishing I could just snap my fingers and find myself back in my small Aspen apartment. The patrons here seem to be happy with the state of their lives, and for all intents and purposes, I should be, too.

  Once upon a time, I was.

  My best friend Faith nudges me on the shoulder, bringing her iPhone to my face. I get a whiff of her strawberry lotion, and with it, a strong hit of nostalgia, I’ve missed her.

  “This meme absolutely kills me!” she squeals, laughing without a care in the world. “Get it? The pussy cat!”

  Rolling my eyes, I laugh with her.

  “So, what’s this surprise you mentioned?”

  Faith had all but dragged me here tonight, swearing that after two beers she was going to give me the gift of a lifetime. I’m only in Holiday Springs for the weekend and thought we’d spend our time binging Netflix and eating Chinese takeout. Unfortunately, no such luck.

  “Well.” She clears her throat, tipping the shot glass into her mouth and swallowing all the liquid at once. “You know my brother-in-law Raff, right?”

  I quirk a brow. “Of course, I remember him.”

  Raff and I met a few times casually, but I don’t think he would ever remember meeting me. Still, Faith talks about him all the time, and her apartment is littered with photos of them with his beautiful son. Raff was once living in London and married to Faith’s sister, Hope. Sadly, Hope passed away in a car crash leaving Raff and their son Nathaniel behind. After her death, the boys moved to Holiday Springs to be closer to Hope's family. Faith, who should probably get the ‘World’s Greatest Aunt’ award, loves them with all of her heart.

  “Right.” She nods. “But, anyway, we aren’t talking about him.” She swats a hand in front of her face like he’s of no matter, but we both know better. “We are going to talk about his best friend from college. Or, as they call it, Uni.”

  “Why are we talking about his best friend?”

  “The Irishman.”

  “The Irishman?” I frown, confused.

  Her eyes sparkle in that way of hers, and on my life, I know I’m in trouble. Faith and I have been friends ever since I rented a small studio above her book shop. My hospital was equidistant between Aspen and Holiday Springs, but there’s a beautiful holistic medicine center here that made me want to stay in Aspen throughout my treatment. They were able to mitigate my pain without medication, detox my body, and overall made me feel better throughout chemo. Not least, Holiday Springs is quaint and filled with the most delicious mom-and-pop restaurants. The people are incredibly kind and far from pretentious. And of course, Faith quickly became a cornerstone in my life. She’s older than me by over ten years, but we have a connection that would have manifested even if our age gap spanned thirty. The first time I wandered through Bookland, smelling fresh antique pink roses from inside ornate silver tins, I knew whoever owned the store was special. I was right.

  “The Irishman is fucking irresistible.” She gives me an orgasmic shudder. “I would have screwed him if I could, but of course, he’s off-limits to me. Raff would murder us both. But you? You are perfect.”

  “Oh, please.” I roll my eyes, taking another healthy sip.

  She shakes her head, a smile spreading across her face. “The accent. The height. His build. His roguish smile. I swear to God he’s got panty-melting potential. And after all you’ve been through, a good time is in order.”

  “You’re exaggerating about him, I’m sure. And I am having a good time, here, with you.” I take another sip of my beer, the lie souring the taste. I’ve been having a hard time ever since I returned to Aspen, and we both know it. Okay, scratch that. I’ve been having a hard time over the last few years—period.

  “Nope. I’m not letting you waste your youth another second. You need an orgasm with a man. I’m sure the vibrator is helpful, but nothing can come close to an actual dick. You could use a few nights of pure, no-strings fun.”

  My jaw drops, her blunt language never ceasing to both shock and crack me up. “You’re insane.”

  Her eyes flare past me as the stool beside mine scratches against the floor, and I glance over my shoulder, following her line of sight.

  “Hello, Faith.” He nods toward her before focusing on me, licking his full, pouty lips.

  My mouth? It opens and shu
ts as I forgo the beer resting on my tongue and instead drink him in.

  My thirsty eyes agree. Faith was not exaggerating.

  He’s tall. Like, really, really tall. I’m five foot five and have to crane my head up to peruse him thoroughly. Trim waist. Broad shoulders. He smiles, and I swallow. Hard, emerald eyes glitter over me.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  I thank God that I’m sitting as I give him a slow nod.

  “Sarah, I take it?” His green eyes pierce deeply as he takes his chair, my own plain brown in contrast to his electric green. “Beckett.”

  I want to reply, to feign some sense of normal, but I find myself incapable. Men like this are a rarity, and my mouth is refusing to do the simple bidding. Without warning, my mood flips from shock to anger as I cut my eyes back to Faith, who looks pretty damn proud of herself. I’ve been ambushed. I widen my eyes at her with a ‘how could you?!’

  Yes, he’s hot. But I’m nowhere near ready to handle a man of this caliber. Not after what I’ve been through. And I don’t need a man who is brought in by my best friend out of pity for me, either. She should know that. And—

  “Enjoy this gift of an introduction,” she whispers with a sly wink at Beckett, cutting off my spiraling thoughts. Unphased by my steady glare, she presses in. “Don’t stress this. Consider it an early Chanukah present.”

  I twist my body around so she and I are face-to-face and grit out my reply. “It’s Saint Patrick’s Day. We’ve got half a year until Chanukah.”

  Laughing, she hops off her stool, pridefully adjusting her green beaded necklaces. “It’s a good thing I didn’t say Yom Kippur. That’s when you starve for a day, right?” She leans in, her eyes sparkling in victory. “You’ve starved long enough, Sarah. It’s time to feast.”

  I bite my cheek, looking upward and trying to gather myself to keep from strangling her. The moment she abandons me, I’m going to fake a bathroom break and call an Uber. This man—for the moment anyway—is completely out of my league. Within only a few words, and by his posture alone, it’s clear he’s got confidence in droves, my own suffering horribly due to my recent battle scars.

  I don’t need to embarrass myself by staying here and trying to prove different.

  Reading my panic, she crowds me with her departing hug, purposely keeping me planted so I don’t run off. “Live life,” she whispers with a vehement order. “Remember who the fuck you are. Liberate yourself. You deserve it. And he’s a decent guy.” She glances over my shoulder at Beckett, who’s attempting to flag down the bartender. “Really, he is.” She ‘spots’ someone in the crowd. “Oh, it’s Molly!” She projects her voice between us like a chaperoning parent. “Have fun, you two.” She promptly leaves us, disappearing into the sea of bodies despite my plea-filled eyes.

  “Look.” I swivel back around to him, pressing my lips together briefly to consider my word choice before continuing. “This is really awkward. I’m sorry…she…I wasn’t expecting…” I swallow. “I’m not sure what she told you about me, but—”

  “Nor I.” He shakes his head as if I said something amusing. “The truth of it is I’m only in town for a short while, just visiting my mate Raff and godson Nathaniel. Faith invited me here and told me there’s someone I should meet. And here we are. It’s that simple.”

  The accent.

  I will not get pulled in by that accent!

  “Th-that’s all?” My voice comes out so hesitant, but that’s because I am.

  Most of the people in town know about my battle. They saw the hair loss. They watched me shrink in weight. And the truth is, they were all amazingly kind to me in the way you’d expect from a small town like Holiday Springs. But it also made it harder for me to just be myself. It wasn’t an easy choice to go back to Aspen after I recovered, but I felt like I couldn’t live comfortably when everyone saw me as porcelain. Even when I was at my weakest, I was a twenty-nine-year-old woman made of skin and bone, with a heart that beat with aspirations in both life and love. I got tired of being looked at as weak and frail. Looking at the Irishman now, my body reminds me for the first time in what feels like forever that it also craves something more than survival. Maybe Faith is right.

  I cross my legs, trying to contain the beat that’s settled in the pit of my stomach. With every second that passes in his proximity, it is starting to pulse lower. Much, much lower.

  He quirks a brow as though he’s reading my consideration. “That’s all there is.” He tilts his head to the side, thick chestnut waves shifting to the side, a sliver of his tongue moving to the corner of his full lips. “I’m only here for a short visit. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of fun, aye?”

  His delivery is to the point. It’s as cut and dry as it gets.

  “Aye.” I lift my glass, my hands shaking a bit, and taking another sip when I notice a gold watch glinting on his wrist. I finally realize how differently he’s dressed from the other men here. They’re in flannel and jeans, while the Irishman is in a dark suit with a white button-down shirt. But while he is definitely dressed like a serious businessman, his gaze speaks anything but boardroom. Though if he has anything in common with the Holiday Springs natives—with the way he fills out his suit—he looks like he chops wood in his free time.

  So. Insanely. Hot.

  Gathering my wits, I tell him, “Here now, works for me.” I scrutinize him closely, looking for any sign he knows more than he’s letting on.

  He gives me a half-smile, and I don’t see an ounce of pity. This man is nothing but confidence wrapped up in a masculine package. “So, let’s enjoy the holiday, aye?”

  He again raises a hand to the bartender, and this time, she comes rushing toward him, her cheeks flushing. “I’ll have Glenlivet on the rocks. And she’ll take another of whatever she’s having.”

  “Sure.” The bartender smiles like she’s waiting for him to order her up to his room later tonight, and with her reaction to him, I don’t feel so alone. She immediately fills the orders and slides them toward us, her smile more of an offering as her eyes linger on Beckett. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

  Chapter Two

  Sláinte!

  (Cheers!)

  -Irish saying

  Beckett

  Within a few silent and assessing seconds—mostly by her—I can’t help but to break the silence. “I take it this isn’t something you do often, if ever.”

  She bites her lip and subtly shakes her head. Briefly, I imagine what a moan would sound like coming from between her lips and being the man responsible for it. Her innocence and hesitation are obvious. She’s not hiding it well. Not that she looks virginal, but she doesn’t appear to be completely comfortable with the idea of casual sex or hookups, let alone my style of sex. Oddly enough, I don’t even think I care.

  I circle the liquid in my tumbler as I look her over. She doesn’t carry a natural confidence. Her eyes are a light brown, a bit too large for her face, but there is a depth to them that’s insurmountable. It’s as though she’s lived far more life than her time. Her lips are full, the lower more so than the upper. She’s not voluptuous, which is my preference, but her tits are ample and pert.

  She’s not at all within the realm of my normal taste, but what I imagine inspired the term ‘cute as a button.’

  But it’s not her attributes that are keeping me rooted here. The draw? Her smile and doe eyes. Somehow, they call to me. Sweet, sincere, soulful…they’re honesty unforced. I take a sip of my drink, watching her intently as she lifts her own glass.

  Licking the remnants off her lip, she sets the pint on the bar, eyeing it as if it’s the most fascinating thing here. The darkening blush on her pale cheeks tells me she’s considering me in the same way. With my disclosure to her that I’m here for nothing more than a brief holiday and a good time, there’s clear insinuation hanging in the air. A proposition of sorts and I left the ball bouncing in her court. Faith told me enough to know that she’s been on the outskirts of social circl
es and dating for some time, but I hadn’t expected such a timid reaction. With Faith’s personality being what it is, it seems the two couldn’t be more different.

  What surprises me now is that Sarah seems to be entertaining the idea. I wait for her to make the next move, the one that will tell me whether this will happen or if I’ll be taking my leave.

  After several moments she clears her throat and looks up, curious eyes imploring mine. “So, what part of Ireland are you from?”

  Small talk. She needs this. And oddly, I find myself eager to give it to her.

  “Dublin.”

  Her eyes light up. “I’ve always wanted to travel to Ireland. But I bet you always hear that.” She smiles that sweet smile as she rolls her eyes at her choice of words.

  “I do. It’s a grand place—many fond memories. Loads of fun to be had, and more to make, but I’ve been living in London for the last year and may come stateside in the near future.”

  Her lips curve upward slightly. “Oh, yeah?”

  Wanting to persuasively suck that lower lip, bite it perhaps, I nod. “Eh, it’s still too early to tell.”

  “What would bring you to America?” She tucks a lock of her soft blonde hair behind her ear.

  More talk.

  “Family business. My parents passed away recently, and my brothers and I are thinking about restructuring things a bit. They’re both married and settled in Dublin. I, however, am single and can be...flexible.” I can talk work all day, in fact, that’s how I spend all of my time as of late, but that’s not what tonight is about so I change the subject. “And what do you do?”