by Leigh, Elisa
The Irishman
Elisa Leigh
The Irishman
By Elisa Leigh
© Elisa Leigh 2019.
All Rights Reserved
By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book Adult Romance due to language and sexual situations.
ASIN:
Cover by Tracie Douglas at Dark Water Designs
Created with Vellum
Dedication
For everyone looking for magic in a rainbow. Love is just as elusive and just as magical. Don’t stop looking, because when you find it you’ll be happy you never gave up the search.
Contents
Irish Terms
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Elisa Leigh
Irish Terms
Mo fhíorghra - my true love
Shíorghrá - eternal love
A ghrá - his love
Mo grá - my love
A chroí - his heart
Prologue
Caitlin Shepherd
I’m in the middle of doing the dishes since we just finished dinner. I do what I can to help out around here since they’ve got four kids under six that can be a handful. I’d never want my aunt and uncle to think I don’t appreciate all they have done for me, so I try showing them.
“Caitie girl, come sit down for a minute.” Uncle Finnegan calls, waving me over to where he’s sitting at the dining room table. I say uncle, but he’s more like a big brother since we’re much closer in age than my father and I were.
“How are you doing Caitie? With my small circus and then the bar I don’t think I’m doing my best by you.”
“Uncle Finn, you and Aunt Maggie have been the best parents. Really.”
He smiles sadly. “Have you filled out any college applications yet? I thought you wanted to study history. I’m sure there are some great colleges close if you want to live at home. You could also look at colleges further away if you want that whole ‘I’m away at college’ dorm experience. Whatever you want, you know Maggie, and I will support your dreams.”
I shrug and look at the wall, willing myself not to cry. Although it’s been four years since their accident, the pain is as fresh as the night they died. I miss my mom, dad, and big sister Sarah fiercely. Every day I get to walk around free while they are gone. Stupid rain making the roads slippery. Stupid ice cream for being the reason they were out in the first place. I was never a sweets kind of girl.
“I know it’s rough Caitie, I miss them too, but you can’t stop living. Your life is on the edge of getting started, how do you want it to begin?”
I take a deep breath and shrug. “I’m sixteen Uncle Finn, I don’t know what I want yet. Do I need to know now?”
“You’ll be seventeen next month. You don’t need to know today, but I want you to think about it. Remember, your parents have a college fund they left for you when it’s time.”
I nod “Good talk Uncle Finn.”
He rolls his eyes and smiles at me.
I get up and go back to finishing the dishes.
Chapter 1
Gareth Whelan
It’s a rainy St. Patrick’s Day here in Chicago and I want nothing more than to get a flight out back home. This isn’t the first time I’ve been away, but it is the first time I’ve been gone during a holiday. I flew in a few days ago for some business that had to be attended to in person. I usually prefer to have video conferences, but this company wanted to meet me before they would put their company in my competent hands. Something about needing to make sure their company was going to be handled by someone who would take care of it and the people who work there. I guess I could understand where he was coming from, but it didn’t make coming here any easier.
My brother Cormac texts me a picture of Kiernan and my brother Sullivan sitting at the bar giving the one finger salute. They look like they’ve gone and gotten completely pissed.
Cormac: Wish you were here, you eegit.
Me: Fuck off
He sends me a pic of Sullivan laying on the floor and Kiernan handing him his pint.
“Fuckin' arseholes,” I mumble and shove my phone into the back of my jeans when I see my driver pull up. He goes to get out and grab my door, but I wave him off. “I got it.”
“Where can I take you, Mr. Whelan?” My driver, an older gent that reminds me of me da, asks me.
“What I really want is a nice pint. D’ya know of any pubs round here that aren’t going to be crawling with tossers all night?”
He looks up in the rearview mirror and smirks. “Yes, sir. I got just the place for you.”
“Thank you, Frank.”
I settle in for the drive, getting into a meme war with Cormac, Kiernan, and Sullivan. About fifteen minutes later we arrive at Finnegan’s Pub. It’s on the outskirts of the city, and looks like it’s been around for decades, judging by the sign and lack of decor.
When he parks curbside, I grab for the door handle, not giving him a chance to get it for me.
He shakes his head at me. “You know I’m supposed to get that for you.”
“Frank, I’m pretty sure I can get me own fuckin' door.”
“Yes, sir. Give me a call when you’d like me to pick you up.” He says with a hint of laughter.
“I will. See you in a couple.”
I straighten up to my full six-foot five height and close the car door. The minute I pull open the door to the pub it’s like I’ve stepped back into The Lass and Lion, my brother’s pub in Killaloe, County Clare, Ireland. When our Da’ passed away, he left the pub to Cormac, while giving Sullivan and I an inheritance we knew nothing about.
When my eyes adjust to the dark room, I see the place isn’t too crowded yet, and those that are here, aren’t here for a fuckin' green beer. I spot an empty booth with plenty of empty tables around it. Perfect. I’m not here for any company. I want to drink a few pints and watch the Rugby game. Then I can go back home tomorrow leaving this city far behind. Not that there’s anything wrong with Chicago, or America for that matter. It’s just not Ireland.
I’m only sitting down for a minute when a waitress shows up to take my order. She looks me up and down, and I can tell she’s interested, too bad I’m not. With blonde hair and too much makeup caking her face, she looks more like an overpriced hooker than a waitress at a pub.
�
�Hey, there handsome. I’m Jenna, and I’ll be taking care of you. What can I get you tonight?” She asks, batting her fake eyelashes and squeezing her tits together.
“I’ll have a pint.”
Like most women I’ve spoken to over the past few days, her eyes flash at my accent. “Oh my God. Are you Irish?” She giggles and twirls her hair around her finger. Does she think she’s sexy doing this?
“No, it’s a fuckin’ speech impediment. Can I get me fuckin’ beer or do I need to go somewhere else?” I bark not in the mood for her shit.
She looks as if she might cry and walks back to the bar, hopefully to get me a beer.
I watch the rugby match that’s on the TV closest to me and relax while I send a message to my pilot to make sure he’s ready to leave tomorrow after my meeting.
I’m staring at my phone when a glass is placed in front of me. When I finally put my phone down, I look up expecting to see the waitress from before, but I find a curvy, dark-haired woman with the best arse I’ve ever seen, walking away from me. The way her arse shakes as she walks back toward the bar has me hypnotized. I’m half out of my seat when she turns around, and I’m knocked back. Fuck me she’s beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s got a great body with full curves ready to be touched. My dick grows hard in my jeans.
Coming around the bar, she keeps her face looking down until finally, she looks up, and I’m done for. She’s beyond beautiful. With dark brown hair piled into a ponytail at the top of her head and full pouty lips, I’m entranced. My foul mood has lifted, and the only thing I can think is how much I want to taste the sweetness that her kiss will surely deliver. The woman looks straight at me, our eyes connecting across the pub, and the only intelligible thought running through my head is that she’s mine, she’s mo fhíorghra, my true love. Holy fuck!
Da always told my brothers, Cormac and Sullivan, and I that he knew the second he met our ma that she was it for him. She died from cancer when Cormac and I were very young, but the love my parents shared lasted my Da a lifetime. I never once saw him look at another woman. My father died a happy man knowing he was on his way back to see his fhíorghra.
A customer at the bar steals her attention away from me making my blood boil. How dare they think they have any right to her. She’s mine. At some point, she shoots me a pointed glare, and I get her message loud and clear. I need to chill the fuck out before this turns into a scene. I unclench my fists and grab for my pint knowing I need something to keep me busy. The first pull of the cold Guinness down my throat soothes the raging beast inside me. I sit there for over an hour nursing my pint, my eyes locked on the woman who will be my wife and create our clan. Her face is the most expressive I’ve ever seen on a woman. Not that I’ve spent much time paying attention to other women.
No one has ever struck my fancy. After fooling around with a few when I first went off to University, I haven’t given them another look. My first foray into sex was lackluster at best. I brought it up to my brother, and he only laughed at me, nagging me about not being able to satisfy a woman. My father walked in on the conversation, and I can still remember what he said. “Sex with your shíorghrá, eternal love, will be more than fulfilling. Why waste your time with women who mean nothing when you’ve got a hand to keep you busy until you’ve found her?”
Until today, I haven’t given a woman more than a passing glance.
Chapter 2
Caitlin
Just go over there. It’s not like he’s going to bite you. Drop off his drink and ask him if there’s anything else he needs. I grab a small black serving tray and put his pint on it, then walk around the bar to the man who looks as if he could spit nails but model a suit while doing so. He’s steadily typing a message on his phone and doesn’t see me walk up. If he can sense me, he doesn’t let me in on the fact. I think to clear my throat to ask him if there’s anything else I can get for him, but instead, I wimp out and put his drink down then walk away. He’s not even looking at me, and his intensity is sucking me in.
When I get back to the bar, I can’t even look at him. Did he even notice I set his drink down? Is he pissed I didn’t ask him if he needed something else? Shit, Caitlin, just look over there and check on him, he’s probably still looking at his phone. I look up, and I’m caught in his possessive stare. Oh no, this is not good at all.
Sweet Jesus, why won’t he stop looking at me? I only brought him a beer. There’s no way I could have offended him that much. Right? When Jenna refused to bring him his order, I thought she was just being Jenna, the half-wit waitress my uncle hired since Maggie was far too pregnant to work any longer. That’s the problem with knocking up your wife over and over. You lose the best waitress you have, and you have to hire two more to do what only Maggie could.
I can’t complain too much, they took me in when I had no one else. Uncle Finn and his wife, my Aunt Maggie, were much younger than my parents when my family died that awful night nine years ago, in a car accident. They’ve done the best they could for me, and I’m thankful for them. Six kids later, they’ve succeeded in filling this world with little ones who look like Aunt Maggie and talk like Uncle Finn, he’s a first-generation Irishman and curses like a sailor.
While I’ve never felt like they didn’t want me around, I still feel like the outsider. Losing your family will do that to a person. My parents went out with my sister Sara to grab some ice cream, but I stayed home to study for my history test. There were months at the beginning where I wished I had gone to get ice cream too. There have also been many years I’m happy I didn’t. Their passing is felt every day. The many years of therapy I’ve been through have taught me to appreciate the life I’ve been given. To love those around me with all I’ve got and treasure the moments that make life worth it.
That brings me back to now and him. As soon as he walked in here, I haven’t been able to stop looking at the man. It’s like he’s pissed that the world didn’t ask him his opinion on things. Like I didn’t want the sky to be blue, why couldn’t it have been green? Jenna stormed over to the bar and basically threw a temper tantrum because he dismissed her and didn’t fall for her flirting. I got to give it to her, I’ve seen her tips at the end of the night. What she’s doing brings in big money, but I’d never have the lady balls to do it. I make the drinks and take care of the guys at the bar. Most of them I’ve known for years and are harmless. They also know I don’t put up with their shit.
I’m pulled away when Ollie motions to me. “Oi, Caitie girl, stop the eye fucking. I need another beer. Be a doll and grab me one, will you?” He says so loud that everyone at the bar can hear him.
My cheeks burn, and everyone laughs while I pour Ollie his beer. When I look back at the man who I was caught eye diddling, he’s finishing his pint. His Adam's apple bobs as he drinks down his beer, even that is sexy. He sets down his beer and tips his glass in my direction, asking for another. I nod and jump to make him his beer and bring it to his table. My heart beats a fast rhythm in my chest, and it’s getting harder for me to breathe. When I place his beer on the table in front of him, he grabs my wrist, and my eyes dart to his. His touch is firm, but not too tight. He rubs his thumb softly over my pulse point making me shiver.
“Tell me your name lass.” He demands in a rich Irish accent that has me picturing the green rolling hills where my ancestors are from. It’s not the first time I’ve heard someone from Ireland speak. I work in an Irish pub, and we get people in here all the time who are from over there. The lilt of his words and the strength behind his demand send a shock straight through my core. Hot damn, I’ve never been affected by a man like this. I’ve never been affected by any man.
“Caitlin,” I say breathlessly and bite my lip. When I realize what I’m doing, I release my lip and turn to go. Who am I, Jenna? I don’t flirt with guys, and I definitely don’t flirt with the kind of man like the one in front of me.
His grip on my wrist is firm. “Wait. Sit down with me.”
I look down at my wrist, and he loosens his hold before finally letting me go. He waves at the bench across from him at his booth. “Please have a seat, just for a moment before it gets busy.”
I look around the bar and find that no one needs anything at the moment, so I sit. I don’t know what to say, so I fiddle with my hands and look everywhere but at the man in front of me. His large hand comes down on both of mine. “Easy lass. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He tries for an easy smile, but his severe face makes it look less than friendly.
“I didn’t think you would,” I mumble.
He arches his brow at me. “Didn’t you?”
I grab his beer and take a few gulps before setting it down in front of him. Before I can wipe the foam from my lips, he reaches over and does it for me. Holding the bottom of my chin with his index finger, his thumb slides slowly across my upper lip and then my bottom one. The entire time I’m watching his face, his eyes are on my mouth, his expression unreadable. I hear nothing but the beat of my own heart, so fast I worry it will stop if I don’t get it under control.
“What is your name?” I whisper, entranced by this man.
“My name is Gareth Whelan.” His hand drops from my face, and he glares at something over my shoulder and his fists clench.
“What’s wrong?”
“Those men at the bar, they won’t stop staring at you.”
I look over at my bar and laugh. He’s ridiculous. “They’re not staring, trust me. I’ve known those guys for years. With women like Jenna and Elise walking around here, they have plenty to keep their eyes on.”