Taming Irish Page 7
“Really? Did ye go school for it?”
“No. I…” Damn, why does everything go back to Chad? “I got married young, and we didn’t have enough money for both of us to go after our dreams, so…”
“Ye gave yers up, while ye supported him.” I hear the faintest trace of judgement in the statement.
“Like I said, I was young and in love.”
“He sounds like a douchebag.”
I laugh out loud, then sigh. “He wasn’t always.”
Shane grunts. “People don’t change that much.”
I shrug. “No. I guess they don’t.”
“So, coming here, it’s a way to reinvent yerself, or to forget about yer ex?”
“Both, maybe. It was my cousin, Quinn, that convinced me to come. She was the one that found Colleen’s place, had all the paperwork done up. This is more her thing. But I’m here now, so there’s not much I can do about it.”
“Ye’re already homesick?”
I’m not used to a man asking me so many questions. Or having any interest in me at all. Chad usually talked mostly about himself. And I’m starting to realize that other than their celebrity status, they aren’t much alike at all.
“I like the quiet here.” It’s the truth. “Back home, everyone knew me.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is when you’re the main source of gossip for an entire town.”
An awkward silence fills the car, and I regret sharing my insecurities. It’s not something I normally do. I’ve learned how to keep my emotions in check and my thoughts to myself, hiding the most vulnerable places of my soul. But something about this man makes my tongue loose, and my body even looser.
Damn, I’m in trouble.
“What do ye plan on doing when ye have to go home?” Shane asks, his voice soft.
“I don’t know.” I give a small shrug, looking out the window at the rolling hills that surround us. “I’ll have maxed out my savings by then, so I guess I’ll get a job. What about you?” I ask, needing to change the subject. “Do you ever tour with your band?”
He laughs. “Ye really don’t know who we are, do ye?”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I recognized one of your songs that Nora played for me,” I say, hoping to appease his ego. “Do you really run a record label, or was that just your cover story?”
“Unfortunately, that part is true.” He makes a noise in the back of his throat, his easy smile gone as he turns his gaze back on the road in front of us. “I started it with Owen after our last tour ended. The guys want to stay stagnant for now.” There’s a hint of frustration in his voice.
“Stagnant?”
“Wives and babies are a kind death sentence to the life we lived.”
Lived. I doubt Shane Hayes has truly given up that lifestyle. Even through his easy-going nature, I can see the unrest that lurks behind his eyes. He’s a man who’ll never be satisfied, and I know that look all too well.
“Nora mentioned that the other guys are married. That must be frustrating, for someone like you,” I tease.
He glances over, a hint of a smile returning to his lips. “Ye have no idea.”
We pull to a stop in front of a small, rundown shack.
I frown at the decrepit building. We’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hills and valleys, and a single-lane road that’s edged way too close to a cliff to be safe.
“Where are we?”
“The Shamrock. Best Guinness this side of Dublin.”
“Is it even open?” One of the windows has been boarded up, the other two are so dirty that I can’t see in, But from what I can see, it doesn’t look like there are any lights on.
“The Shamrock is always open.” He winks, then gets out of the car.
I hesitate before following him.
Inside the pub, I have to squint for my eyes to adjust to the dim lights. Two gray-haired men sit at one of the old wooden, mismatched tables playing cards, but the rest of the pub is empty.
“If this is your idea of a date,” I whisper, “You may not be as smooth as I thought.”
He chuckles and leans closer, whispering back, “I thought ye said it wasn’t a date.”
“It’s not. But if it were, I can’t imagine you’d be getting lucky tonight.” I attempt to tease him, but I’m pretty sure it comes out flat.
He glances down at me with a smirk, something playing in his eyes as he places a large hand on my lower back and leads me toward the bar. “Trust me, love, I have no trouble getting lucky. Lucky is my middle name.”
“Really? Because I would have thought it was Trouble.”
He lets out a bark of a laugh. “It’s that as well.”
“Shane Hayes.” A stout man, with more salt than pepper in his hair, and deep lines etched into his weathered face, rounds the bar, pulling Shane into a hug. “It’s good to see ye, lad.”
“Hey, Tommy.” Shane grins down at the older man, who barely comes up to his shoulder.
“I heard ye’re living in Dublin.” Tommy flashes a smile that sports two missing teeth.
“Ye know me, I’m never anywhere for long.”
Tommy chuckles knowingly. “But ye always seem to find yer way back here.”
Shane grins.
When Tommy glances at me, his blue eyes sparkle with interest. “And who do we have here?”
“Makena.” I offer my hand, which the man takes and brings to his lips, then gives me a wink.
“So, ye’re the lass who’ll finally tame our boy.”
Shane coughs, which is more of a choking sound, and I can see it was the response Tommy was looking for because he gives a hoot of laughter, then smacks Shane on the shoulder.
“Easy now, lad.”
“We’re just friends,” I offer.
“A friend, ye say.” Tommy gives a disbelieving look between us, then says in a loud whisper that’s meant for my ears. “Myh wife and I started out as friends.”
Shane rubs the back of his neck. “How is Mary?”
“She misses seeing ye.”
“Tell her I’ll come by later this week.”
“She’d like that. Ye always were her favorite.” Tommy motions us to take a seat at the bar, then walks around towards the bronzed spouts and starts pouring dark, foamy liquid into two large glasses.
I don’t understand the next words that come out of the man’s mouth, because I’m pretty sure he’s speaking in Gaelic. Shane looks uncomfortable with whatever is said, replying in the same throaty language and making Tommy laugh and shake his head. Then, he looks at me and winks.
Tommy places the dark beer in front of me, and says, “Ye have yer hands full with that one,” then walks away, chuckling to himself.
“What did he say?” I ask, once the man is gone.
I swear Shane blushes, and when he responds by changing the subject, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.
“Tommy and my dad were good friends. It’s right here that Wild Irish performed live for the first time. Jeezus, we’d barely hit puberty at the time. Scared all the vermin from the place. But we thought we were the kings of the world.” He gives a low, throaty laugh, his eyes misty with memory. “We still come back and play here on occasion.”
I glance around, noting the small makeshift stage on one side of the room. “I’m sure he appreciates it.”
“I miss it.” His eyes gloss over for a moment, and there’s a hint of vulnerability in them. He takes a long sip of his beer. “Being on stage. It’s a rush, ye know?”
“I’ve always been terrified of being in front of large crowds.”
The vulnerability is gone when he glances back at me, replaced by the same impish look that he’d had after I’d kissed him. “But there has to be something that sets yer blood rushing. That stirs that place inside ye, making ye feel alive.”
Yeah, him.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and push away the thought. “I guess seeing my designs come to life.”
I shrug, not telling him that I haven’t been able to design anything since my divorce - way before then, actually. It’s like all my creative juices have been squeezed from me. Even when I try to pick up a pencil and sketchbook, I end up staring at the blank page, unable to get a clear vision of the images in my mind.
Tommy returns with a basket and sets it on the counter, then says something else in Gaelic, making Shane smirk.
“It was nice to meet ye, Makena. I hope to see ye again soon.” Tommy lifts his hand like he’s tilting his non-existent hat at me, then scurries into the back room again.
Shane stands and grabs the basket. “Ye ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“Fun.” He winks.
“What kind of fun?” I lift my still full beer to my lips.
Shane places a hand on the bar and leans close, his voice tickling the shell of my ear. “The kind that’ll have ye wet, love.”
I suck in a breath, choking as beer and foam goes down the wrong pipe, making me cough uncontrollably.
“I…” Try to say something through the coughing fit. “You…”
“I’ve got something really big to show ye.” Shane just grins at me, all cocky and sure of himself. I can tell he’s teasing me, but he has my head spinning with the possibilities. “And I have no doubt ye’ll enjoy it.”
“You’re terrible,” I manage to say.
“No, sweetheart. I’m fucking amazing. But as friends ye’ll never know just how good I really am.” He winks. “Now, are ye going to let me show ye the lough, or would ye rather have lunch here?”
The lough? I have no idea what that even is.
Still, this whole Ireland thing is supposed to be about trying new things.
An adventure, as Quinn would say.
But I know, as I follow him outside, frowning when he passes his car and starts to walk down what looks like an incredibly steep hill, along a barely visible path, Shane is way more than I ever bargained for.
“Watch yer step,” he warns, taking my elbow as my foot catches on the exposed root of a tree.
I swallow hard as I glance down the perilous trail. “Is this safe?”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to ye, love. Trust me.”
The funny thing is, I do. Even though I probably shouldn’t. But he has a way about him. A natural charm that isn’t forced or faked.
He’s still a self-admitted manwhore, Makena, my brain warns, and I follow him deeper into a wooded area, going further down. True. But, a manwhore with a good heart. I laugh out loud at the thought.
“Something ye’d like to share?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow, his hands still on me, guiding me down the path, even though I’ve clearly found my footing.
Stopping, I glance up at him, the green of his eyes the same color as the dark foliage that surrounds us. “I’m just not quite sure how to take you.”
“Take me anyway ye like, Makena.” His lips twist in a grin that tells me he’d be more than willing to repeat our early morning encounter.
And, my God, I want to.
He holds my gaze, electricity snapping and sparking between us. One more kiss. What would it hurt? It’s not like I’m looking for anything long-term right now. And he clearly isn’t, either.
I lean closer and his nostrils flare slightly, his lips part, and my whole body sets aflame with a need so intense I’m left breathless, my knees feeling like they might buckle beneath me.
Never in my life has a man had this much power over me. And even though it’s terrifying, it’s also exhilarating.
“Ye keep looking at me like that, love, and I’m not going to be able to keep that promise I made to ye earlier.”
“Promise?” I choke out, unaware of anything but the man whose mouth is mere inches from mine.
“Friends,” he says huskily as he drags his knuckles down my arm. “That is what ye want?”
“Right.” The word is out before I can clamp my lips around it, breaking the moment.
He straightens and nods, then turns and starts walking down the path again.
It takes me a few seconds before my legs are steady enough to follow him.
Shit. My body and mind war with each other, but it’s my damn heart that does a little sigh as I watch his muscles bunch and coil in his neck and back as I continue along the path.
Who is this man? Everything I think I know about him, all the stereotypes I’ve created in my brain, are a complete contradiction with the way he’s been with me. But maybe that’s his game. I’ve been fooled once before. It’s not like I have a great track record for judging people’s motivations.
And yet, I can’t help but be swept up in his charm, and the possibility that maybe I really could be the woman, like Tommy said, to tame this man.
Always a romantic fool, Makena.
Shane admitted himself that people don’t change. I’d already tried to change one man, and look how that turned out.
It’s a good twenty minutes later when the trees start to thin, opening up to a large body of crystal blue water.
This is the lough.
“Wow,” I say breathlessly, stopping to take in the rolling green hills that surround us, the purple heather, and sheep that seem to roam wild all around us.
Underneath a large oak tree, near the edge of the water, there’s a small stone building that looks like something a Hobbit would live in. It’s all uneven stone, with a wood rood, covered with wild vines and moss, and it looks like it’s ready to cave in on itself.
Shane marches down the path towards it, taking out a key and using it to unlock the wooden door. It creaks when he pushes it open, exposing a small one-room cabin.
“I haven’t been here for a while, so I don’t know what critters might be lurking.”
“I’m okay with spiders,” I say, hesitating before following him inside. My eyes immediately go to the bed that’s pushed against one wall, close to the stone fireplace, and little tingles of anticipation skate across my skin. “It’s snakes I’m terrified of.”
“Ye won’t be finding any snakes here.” He grins at me. “There aren’t any snakes in Ireland.”
“Really? I thought that was just a myth. So, that St. Patrick thing is true?”
He chuckles. “That is probably a myth.” He shrugs, and places the basket Tommy gave him on the small, rectangular table beside a medieval-looking stove. “We just don’t have any native snakes here.”
The moment he says the words, something small scurries across the floor, and I let out a small shriek.
“Easy, love.” He’s behind me, my back to his chest, and his voice tickles my ear when he leans down and says, “It’s just a field mouse. He won’t hurt ye.”
No, but this man just might if I keep letting him get under my skin the way he’s doing right now. But hell, I want him more than just under my skin. I want him on my body. In my body.
I lean back, resting just slightly against his chest, and let out a shaky breath.
“My cousins used to torture me by putting garter snakes in bed, and my shoes,” I say, hating the ridiculous phobia that I’ll always blame them for. But with Shane this close, my panic washes away just as quickly as it came. Heat radiates against my back, and even though we’re barely touching, I swear I can feel his cock growing hard against my ass. “I-I…” Shit. I stutter as I say the words. “Never really got over the fear.”
Just like I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the fear of having my heart broken again. And yet, here I am, pushing something that I know can never be.
I feel his heavy breath before he takes a step back, breaking our connection.
“Ye have a lot of family back home?” He asks, moving across the room, opening the two mildew-covered windows, letting in fresh air and light.
“More than I liked when I was younger. But, we’re all pretty close now.”
“Siblings?” he asks, opening cupboards like he’s looking for something, then grinning when he pulls out a large mason jar full of dark amber liquid.
“Nope. Just me. More cousins than I can count, though. I think you’d get along well with them.”
“Why’s that?” Unscrewing the mason jar lid, he pours some of the liquid into two tin cups, then hands me one.
“Because they’re a bit…” I try to think of the right word, but only one comes to mind. “Wild. Like you.” I sniff the liquid and make a face at the powerful aroma. “What is this?”
“My dad’s homemade whisky.” He drains his glass, and I watch his throat bob as he swallows. His eyes are filled with humor when he looks back at me. “Ye think I’m wild?”
“I don’t think, I know.”
His dimples deepen when he smiles. “And ye think that’s a bad thing?”
“Not bad. Just…dangerous.”
He lets out a small sigh. “Maybe. But there’s a whole lot of fun to being able to let go of rules and reservations.” He holds my gaze. “I can show ye just how much fun, if ye let me.” He doesn’t move toward me, and I’m not even sure it’s sex he’s talking about, but the heat when he looks at me is there - always.
Fun isn’t something I’ve ever been much good at. I’ve never been able to just let go. It was one thing Chad always complained about.
You’re too damn uptight, Makena, he’d say. Someone needs to pull that goddamn stick out of your ass.
Maybe he was right. Maybe it’s time I loosened up. Throw my reservations to the wind and let the pieces fall where they may.
On a shaky breath, I lift the tin cup to my lips and drain the contents. It burns going down my throat, and I cough. “That’s terrible.”
“It is.” He chuckles, taking the cup from me, his fingers brushing against mine when he does. “Are ye hungry?”
“Not really.” I say, forcing myself to swallow past the lump in my throat.
It’s a lie. I’m starving. Just not for food.
He holds my gaze for a long, intense moment before blowing out a breath and dragging his fingers through his hair. “Ye shouldn’t look at me that way, love. Not if ye don’t want a repeat of this morning.”
I blush and drop my gaze. “Sorry.”