The Mystic Cove Series Boxed Set (Wild Irish Books 1-4)

by Tricia O'Malley

  "I just, uh, wanted to see if you wanted to come over for dinner."

  "That sounds like a date. I think it's best that we just be friends. Sorry, Morgan," Patrick said, his words clipped, as he turned his back and went into the storeroom.

  A wave of shame washed over Morgan, and all of the lessons that she had learned in the past few days flew out the window.

  "That ignorant idiot," Cait seethed, turning immediately to run her hands down Morgan's arms.

  "No, no, it's fine, really," Morgan said, stepping back from Cait. Cait held her arm, keeping her there.

  "No, it is not fine. Just because his pride is hurt doesn't mean he shouldn't give you another chance. Stupid man," Cait bit out, so angry she could barely speak.

  "No, I should have expected this. People never stay with me once they realize how difficult I am. It's fine." Morgan ripped her arm from Cait's hand and hurried from the pub, keeping her gaze on the floor, desperately wishing that she had just stuck with her instinct about curling up on her couch with a good book.

  She refused to cry.

  Not over him, at least. It wasn't worth it. They'd barely established a relationship as it was.

  And it just proved her point.

  Relationships were complicated, full of minefields and messy emotions. It was best that she continued on alone.

  Chapter 17

  That woman, Patrick thought. That woman was insane if she thought that he was going to fall into her trap again. All she did was lure him in and then push him away when he got too close. He was done getting his head chewed off for doing nothing wrong. Patrick paced, trying to cool the anger that burned in him, scanning the shelves, looking for something to organize.

  The door flew open with a bang.

  Patrick turned and pointed a finger at Cait. "Don’t you dare start with me. This is none of your business."

  "It happens in my pub, then it's my business," Cait said, raising her chin at him.

  "Fine, then I quit," Patrick said, furious with her, furious with the lot of them. He made to push past her, but Cait wouldn't move.

  Patrick couldn't very well push his pregnant boss, so he stepped back and crossed his arms, looking up at the ceiling.

  "You most certainly will not quit, Patrick, what with me about to be giving birth any day now. What kind of man are you?"

  Her words stung with the truth, and he hung his head, knowing she was right.

  "Fine, I don't quit. But stay out of my business."

  "I will not. What in the heck is wrong with you?" Cait yelled at him and Patrick whipped his head up, staring at her in surprise. Cait's cheeks were flushed and her eyes snapped in anger.

  "Me? Me!" Patrick said, his hands on his hips as he towered over his boss.

  "Yes, you! She finally works up the courage to ask you for dinner and you said no! What were you thinking?"

  "Maybe I'm sick of being attacked every time I try to make a move with her. She's warm, then cold, warm, then cold. It makes no sense. Everything I try, I get slapped back for," Patrick said.

  "Have you ever thought about the fact it is because of her past?"

  Patrick threw up his hands and began to pace the room.

  "Seeing as how nobody will tell me her past, I can't rightly know that now, can I?"

  "You know she's an orphan," Cait said.

  "So what's that got to do with it?"

  Cait let out a high screech, like a tea kettle emitting steam and Patrick stopped, staring at her.

  "Just think outside of yourself for once, would you? Orphans. They've never had love. They don't have a lot of relationships. They've never had anyone stand for them…or stay by their side. Her coming here was a huge risk on her part and you did exactly what every single person in her life has done – pushed her away. Nice job," Cait said scathingly.

  Patrick's heart plummeted and he stared at Cait as thoughts whirled through his mind.

  "So, my rejection of her just proved what she's always known? That people don't stick?"

  "Pretty much," Cait said, her face tense.

  "Shit, shit, shit," Patrick swore and paced.

  "Well, what are you doing? Go get her," Cait ordered and Patrick straightened.

  "You think?"

  Cait turned as Shane came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her belly. She leaned back into him and closed her eyes a little with a small smile.

  "Shane, where does Morgan live?"

  Shane recited the address and then looked down at Cait and back to Patrick.

  "Why?"

  "I have to go to her," Patrick said.

  Cait straightened and snagged a bottle of wine from the shelf next to her.

  "Here. Take this. On the house. Now, don't screw it up," Cait called over her shoulder as Patrick pushed past her.

  "I'm off the rest of the night," Patrick called back.

  "I figured as much," Cait grumbled and then turned, her hands on her hips to survey her husband.

  "Looks like you're pouring pints," she said with a smile. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Chapter 18

  Morgan cursed herself the entire walk, well run, home. As she huffed up the hill to her apartment she glared at anyone who dared to smile at her. What had she been thinking? Morgan had been on a high after her time with Fiona, thinking with hope for her future for once.

  The cold slap of rejection was enough to bring her head out of the clouds. She should have expected this. Never in her life had someone stuck by her side. It was the reason she refused to get into relationships, Morgan reminded herself as she pounded up the worn wooden steps of her building. It would be best if she just kept her head down, worked hard, and didn't socialize much. Eventually she'd save enough money for her to move on to the next town.

  Morgan slammed the bag of food on the counter and trailed her hand over the smooth countertop. Turning, she looked around at her little space. Damn it, she thought. It would be hard to leave this. Battling back the sadness that threatened to overtake her, Morgan systematically put the food away, refusing to waste anything even in her sorrow. She could eat on these groceries for the rest of the week.

  The rest of the week, Morgan thought. Straightening, she crossed her arms and paced across her apartment. That would be how she would take it then. One week at a time. She'd grow her savings and, in a few months, pick a new place and keep moving. Which was stupid, Morgan thought, because she'd finally put down roots.

  A loud buzz caused her to shriek and she turned, one hand over her heart and the other over her mouth. The buzz continued incessantly and Morgan's eyes tracked the apartment, trying to find the cause of it.

  "An intercom?" she said, rushing to a small box by the door that she had never seen before. It appeared she needed to pay more attention to her surroundings, she thought.

  The buzz continued, grating against her ears, so she ran to the door and leaned her cheek against it, pressing her ear to hear anything on the outside. She pressed the button once.

  The buzzing stopped.

  Morgan waiting, straining to hear anything.

  The buzz made her jump again and she stepped back, realizing that there was another button on the intercom. She pressed it down, and spoke hesitantly into it.

  "Hello?"

  Morgan heard the door slam below and the pounding of steps on the stairs. She jumped back and smoothed her hair, realizing that she had inadvertently pressed the button to release the lock on the door in the lobby of the building.

  Morgan struggled through a breath as she waited, knowing it was Patrick, and not knowing what to do. She'd never had a man in her space before, let alone a large, angry, testosterone-filled man.

  A knock at the door made her jump. Morgan stood there, considering her choices.

  "If you don't open this door I swear to God, I will kick it in," Patrick cursed outside the door and Morgan fumbled with the latch, pulling the door in.

  Her eyes tracked to
Patrick's face, and she was immediately lost. He looked wonderful, she thought in surprise. His eyes were bright with anger, his cheeks flushed, and his hair was mussed in a way that made her want to run her hands through it. Nervous, she licked her bottom lip as she watched him, unsure what to say.

  "I brought wine," Patrick said, and Morgan looked down at his hand, a bottle clutched there.

  "Um," Morgan said, and then wanted to kick herself for not having something suave or cool to say. It crossed her mind that she should send him packing for the way he had treated her at the pub.

  "Aw, the hell with this," Patrick said. He pushed past Morgan and placed the bottle on the counter. Turning, he kicked the door closed and grabbed Morgan around the waist.

  In seconds, Morgan was pressed to the door, with a very angry, very passionate man holding her to it. All of her senses went on alert at once and she froze, paralyzed from wanting him…scared of taking this next step.

  Patrick lowered his mouth to within inches of hers. Looking up from beneath his lids, he pinned her with his gaze.

  "I'm going to kiss you now. And I'm not going to stop," he breathed.

  Heat flashed through Morgan and she struggled to remember Fiona's lesson. The switch, picture the switch, she screamed at herself. Moments before Patrick's lips touched hers, she slammed the switch to off in her brain.

  And her world opened up.

  Feeling free for the first time in her life, Morgan wrapped her arms around Patrick, digging her hands into his thick hair, and kissed him back with all of the exuberance and inexperience that she had. Moaning into her mouth, Patrick slid his hands down to her legs and cupping her butt, he lifted her until her legs were wrapped around him and she was pressed to a very hard, and very manly part of him.

  Unable to help herself, Morgan squirmed against him, relishing in these new feelings that he was creating in her body. His lips continued to caress hers, his tongue expertly dipping into her mouth to play with hers.

  Morgan broke the kiss and clasped his face in her hands. They stared at each other, inches apart, their breath coming in ragged bursts.

  "I thought you just wanted to be friends," Morgan gasped out.

  "I've never wanted to be friends with you, Morgan," Patrick said, his stare intense.

  "What do you want?" Morgan whispered, trailing her hands over his arms, amazed at how strong he was. He lifted her like she weighed nothing, holding her imprisoned between his arms.

  "It's been you. Since the moment that I saw you at Keelin's wedding. That first dance…that everything. I haven't looked at another girl since. It's been killing me to get closer to you," Patrick gasped out, his arousal and need evident for her both in his words and his hard length pressed between her legs.

  "Oh, oh God, Patrick, I want you too, I just –" Morgan's words were cut off by Patrick's mouth and he seduced her slowly with his lips, his hands caressing her cheeks, his body pressed tight to hers.

  Gasping, Morgan broke the kiss, scared she would get pulled too far under, not knowing how she would ever stop something that felt so good. Part of her wanted to bury her face in his neck and have him just hold her.

  "You want me," Patrick said, his voice low with need and anger.

  "I do. But, I just, Patrick, I've never done this before," Morgan rushed out and Patrick's eyes flashed to hers.

  "Never done what, to be exact?" Patrick said carefully.

  "This, relationships, kissing, sex, all of it," Morgan blurted out and then closed her eyes, heat creeping up her cheeks.

  "You're a virgin?" Patrick asked, incredulous.

  "Yes, and you're my first kiss at that," Morgan whispered, her eyes closed, refusing to look at him.

  "Well that explains a lot," Patrick mused and Morgan's eyes shot open.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Just why you were so skittish with me. I was certain you didn't like me," Patrick said, a wide smile growing across his face. He looked like a cat that had just licked a bowl of cream.

  "Why is this so funny?" Morgan demanded, glaring at him.

  "It's not funny. It's amazing and wonderful and you're mine, all mine," Patrick crowed out as he pulled her away from the door and did a little spin with her in his arms. Morgan went a little dizzy as he set her down, her body sliding down his. Placing her hands on her hips, she glared up at him.

  "Who says I'm yours? You're making a big assumption here," Morgan said, feeling grumpy for some reason.

  "I say. But now I know that I'll have to take it slow with you. It will be fun to introduce you to all sorts of…pleasures," Patrick said, trailing his finger down Morgan's neck to brush it across her nipple. Morgan jerked and swallowed.

  "Patrick, I don't know how to do this and I am not just talking sex." She batted his hand away from her breast, where heat was trailing through her body and her nipples were standing at attention, begging to be touched.

  Patrick stepped back, his hands raised, a wicked smile on his face.

  "Okay, so you don't know how to be in a relationship? Let's talk about it. Over dinner. I believe you were going to cook for me?"

  Morgan huffed out a breath, not sure what to do, knowing that for some reason he annoyed her and attracted her at the same time. This must be what love was like, she thought.

  "I may or may not cook for you," Morgan said, her nose in the air.

  "You will. Because I've been on my feet all day and haven't eaten. You wouldn't want me to starve, would you?" Patrick asked, his voice pleading and charming at the same time.

  Morgan huffed again and turned, a smile on her face as she dug into the contents of her fridge.

  "Well, be warned, it's my first time cooking as well. So, I may kill you," Morgan said as she pulled the package of ground beef out and the other ingredients for a tomato sauce.

  Patrick wandered closer and looked down at the ingredients.

  "Spaghetti and meatballs? Perfect. I'm good at this one, we'll do it together," he said, feeling warm and bright and just so male next to her.

  Together, Morgan thought.

  There was a first for everything.

  Chapter 19

  Hours later, Morgan felt like her face was stretched from smiling so much. Patrick sat close to her on the loveseat, and he'd pulled her legs over his lap. A warm glow from the wine dulled the edge of her anxiety, and she couldn't remember when she'd had a better night.

  "Thank God I was here to cook, you'd have started the whole place on fire," Patrick commented, teasing a laugh from Morgan.

  "I would not have," Morgan said, smacking him lightly on the arm.

  "Sure and I know the smell of burning meat now, don't I?" Patrick raised an eyebrow at her outrageously and Morgan giggled, biting her lip.

  "The meatballs turned out just fine," she said staunchly.

  Patrick ran his fingers over her ankle, sending heat shooting up her leg. She tried to focus on what he was saying.

  "I'll have to teach you how to make a fine Irish stew," Patrick mused, continuing his hypnotic rub of her feet. "You can make one pot and eat off it all week."

  "I'd like that. It's just me here so if I can save money on groceries, it makes sense," Morgan said.

  "Is money tight?" Patrick asked, tilting his head to look at her. Morgan lost herself for a moment in his eyes. He was just so handsome, she thought.

  "It's better than it's ever been." Morgan batted the question away.

  "Were things rough growing up?"

  And just like that, Morgan felt her walls go up. Damn it, she cursed herself. This is what people do in relationships, she reminded herself. They share about their pasts.

  Shrugging, Morgan pulled her feet from Patrick's grasp.

  "I was in and out of foster homes. Money was never easy to come by and I never really had anything extra or a home of my own. This," she gestured to the studio, "is the first home that I can call my own. Aside from my van, that is."

  Uncomfortable with the subject and wishing that they could g
o back to laughing about easy topics, Morgan stood and moved to her small kitchen. She braced her hands on the side of the sink as she waited for the water to warm.

  "I lost you there, didn't I?"

  Patrick's voice came from right behind her and Morgan jumped a bit. She dashed a quick smile over her shoulder and began to scrub the pot.

  "It's fine. It isn't my favorite subject to talk about is all."

  "I'm sorry," Patrick said simply.

  Morgan shrugged again and berated herself for making a big deal of it.

  "It's nothing. Can't change the past." She rinsed the pot and reached for a plate. "You had a big family?" Though she knew the answer, Morgan thought it was best to keep the conversation off of her and on him.

  A beat of silence greeted her and then a sigh.

  "Yes, a big loving family. There's nine of us total, not counting my parents," Patrick said from behind her and Morgan stiffened. Turning, she looked at him, her mouth hanging open.

  "Nine? Nine brothers and sisters? You seemed like you came from a big family, but, wow," Morgan said, mentally trying to wrap her head around having to meet and remember eleven members of his family.

  "Well there's more now as most are married and have kids. I'm the baby." Patrick grinned at her and Morgan groaned.

  "Perfect, just perfect," she muttered and turned to scrub viciously at the plate.

  "You'll have to meet them sometime," Patrick offered.

  Morgan continued to grumble into the sink.

  She jumped when Patrick's arms slipped around her waist from behind.

  "They'll love you," Patrick said, his lips hot at her neck.

  "Maybe," Morgan said, noncommittally. She highly doubted they would love her but she would put that thought on the backburner until she actually had to meet them.

  "Why don't you put those dishes down so I can repay you for dinner?" Patrick's mouth was at her neck and she shivered at the meaning in his words.

  Carefully placing the dish back in the sink, Morgan did her mental off-switch routine before turning to face Patrick. She opened up her senses and scanned him with her mind, while she lost herself in his eyes. For all of the edge and stubbornness he had, Patrick had a kind heart. And, his need for her bordered on desperate.