by KT Webb
I nod, but he doesn’t miss anything. He can see that my thoughts weren’t only about the scenery or the time I’m spending with him. Gannon pulls me close, holding both of my hands in his.
“You can tell me,” he says softly.
“I really don’t know. I’m just thinking about how everything has changed in my life over the past few months. It feels like everything’s changed, but it really hasn’t. The past is still there, mocking me from an ocean away,” I take a deep breath before I continue. “My family is still out there, wondering what they did wrong. They don’t realize how badly they hurt me.”
“They don’t realize, or they don’t care?” Gannon poses the question I’ve never wanted to say out loud.
“I don’t know. I have no idea how they could possibly say they don’t realize what my sister and Vince did was wrong. I think my parents are just sweeping it under the rug, thinking it will all blow over. The worst part is, I didn’t even love Vince.”
“Okay, why is that the worst part?” Gannon asks with a slight chuckle.
“Because, the entire time, they’ve probably thought I was heartbroken over his betrayal. They couldn’t understand that the real pain came from Maeve’s betrayal. She was my best friend.”
Gannon circles me in his embrace. I melt into him quickly. He doesn’t know what to say, I don’t expect him to. There isn’t anything I can tell my family that will help them understand the pain they’ve caused me by embracing my sister and Vince. My heart hurts every time I think about it.
“I’m sorry you lost the people closest to you, but I’m not sorry it led you to Ireland,” Gannon tells me before kissing the top of my head.
He’s right. If I hadn’t ostracized myself from my family, my grandfather might not have decided to send me here. I wouldn’t be in Gannon’s arms right now. I wouldn’t have met Molly. I wouldn’t be standing on the Cliffs of Moher. I might have ended up marrying Vince, even though I didn’t love him. No. I don’t think I’d have let it get that far. I’m confident I’d have broken things off with him long before we walked down the aisle.
“Let’s keep going, I’m anxious to see as much as possible before we head for Galway,” I tell him, shaking off the melancholy.
“I’m anxious to get to Galway,” Gannon replies with a healthy heap of innuendo.
I’m not sure what has me feeling so much bolder, but I whirl back around, checking to make sure we’re alone. Satisfied that there isn’t a soul in sight, I reach for the bulge in his pants. Of course, he isn’t hard when I start to gently rub him, but it doesn’t take long for him to respond to my touch.
“Damnit, Blake. That’s not fair!” Gannon groans and closes his eyes with my touch.
“Oh, and what you did earlier was fair?” I slide my hand under his waistband.
“Jesus,” he locks eyes with me as my hand grips his girth.
“You know, I live here now, maybe we should head to Galway sooner than planned. It’s not like I won’t get to see the cliffs again,” I whisper just before I claim his lips.
He kisses me back, passionately. I withdraw my hand from his pants, feeling smug about what I’ve managed to do with my touch. Without hesitation, he hoists me up over his shoulder. I squeal as he starts to carry me down the hill, muttering about how hard it is to walk with a hard-on.
We make it to Galway in time for us to check into the B&B and head out for dinner. The atmosphere in downtown Galway is unbelievable. I expected it to be similar to Dublin, but from one side of the country to the other, the culture morphed into something a bit folksier. Pennants are strung between the colorful buildings, street musicians play more classic Irish tunes, and the people seem more laid back. Gannon leads me to a tall stone building that looks out of place, sandwiched between the somewhat modern buildings on either side. The sign tells me this is Finnigan’s, and from the look of it, it’s one of the oldest structures around us.
“This place has delicious homemade vegetable soup,” Gannon assures me as we step into the dining room.
For a Tuesday evening, I’m surprised to see a decent number of people seated at the bar. Though, I once again remind myself that this is Ireland, and the pub life is a big deal here. Gannon leads me to a table near the window and orders us each a whiskey on the rocks. Writer’s Tears has become our go-to drink. Not only is the whiskey smooth and rich, but the little inside joke we have makes us both grin every time we drink it together.
“Do they have that brown bread here?” I ask, my tummy growling.
Gannon chuckles, “I’m sure they do. Do you like soup? You should really try their homemade vegetable soup. It’s delicious, and it comes with a side of bread.”
“Sold!”
After we’ve placed our order, I start to people watch. It’s one of my favorite things to do. When they don’t realize anyone is watching, human beings really show their authentic characters. At the bar, a couple of old men sit side by side, drinking a pint of Guinness, arguing about who caught the bigger fish twenty years ago. I see a woman about my age accept a drink from a stranger in the corner and join him when he silently offers her a seat. The bartender listens to an inebriated man prattle on about something incoherent. While I’m watching everyone else, I can feel Gannon watching me. It takes everything inside me to pretend like I don’t notice for at least a few minutes. The problem is, I can practically feel when someone is looking at me for an extended period. It drives me crazy. I slowly return my gaze to him just as he laces his fingers through mine.
“What are you looking at?” I laugh.
“The only thing worth looking at,” Gannon replies with a grin.
“Gross. Don’t get all cheesy on me now. This place is amazing, there’s plenty to look at in here,” I look around for something specific to point out to him and see a sign above an alcove shelf in the wall right next to him. “Look at that, this place is situated in Galway’s oldest medieval building.”
Gannon glances over his shoulder, “So it is. Interesting stuff, still not even close to what I’m looking at.”
I grin at him and look over my own shoulder as though he must be staring at someone else, “Oh, yeah, that guy in the corner is kinda cute. A little rugged with the beard and flannel, but definitely stare-worthy.”
Before I even turn back to him, I know Gannon is feeling a pang of jealousy. I can feel it in the way he grips my hand a little tighter, and the low growl he releases. It’s like a shock straight to my nether regions. I wonder how long I can keep him going. I turn around with a serious expression.
“I wonder if I should go see if he would buy me a drink,” I say as I rise to my feet.
Gannon grips my hand, tugging me hard enough to make me tumble into his lap. He wraps his arms firmly around my body, holding me in place. Holy shit. How can something so commanding be so hot?
He kisses along my neck until his lips are pressed to my ear, “I don’t like to share, Blake.”
That sends my body into overdrive, and I shiver against him as his breath tickles my ear. I turn my head until my nose is against his and kiss him slowly. Gannon’s heart beats faster against my back as I deepen that kiss, pouring everything I feel into it. When I stop and pull away, I lean my forehead into his.
“You’ll never have to share me. I’m not that kind of girl.”
He grins and gives me another swift kiss before releasing me. Almost as soon as I sit back down, our food is delivered as though the waitress was waiting for us to finish canoodling.
The soup smells delicious. I nearly drool when I inhale the scent of the warm brown bread. Thank God the Irish believe in butter because there is nothing better than freshly baked bread and creamy butter. My first spoonful of soup is heaven. It has a delightfully earthy flavor that is both sweet and savory.
“Good, right?” Gannon asks when he’s tired of waiting for my reaction.
I nod as I swallow a mouthful of soup, “It’s delicious. In America, I’ve only ever had vegetable soup with big ch
unks of potatoes, green beans, carrots, and peas. Judging by the color, I’d say this must have some squash in it too. I wonder if I can make it at home.”
Gannon chuckles at me, “If you ask Aoife, I’m sure she’d be willing to share her recipe with you.”
I make a mental note of that as we continue with our meal. When we’ve finished eating, Gannon excuses himself to use the restroom. While I wait for him to return, I go back to people watching. It’s gotten busier in the pub in the hour or so since we arrived. More people are shuffling in for a pint than they are for dinner.
“I asked the waitress what you’ve been drinking and got you a double,” a deep voice says from my left.
I hadn’t noticed the man from the corner heading my way. This guy was buying a drink for some other girl earlier, he must like to get around at the pub. He doesn’t seem dangerous, just skeevy. Ew. Now, he’s handing me a glass of Writer’s Tears on the rocks and taking a seat where Gannon is supposed to be. Well, shit.
“Um, thank you for the drink, but I really can’t accept it. My. . .uh. . .” I pause, trying to decide what I call Gannon. He’s not exactly my boyfriend, right? Is it too soon for me to assume that?
“You’re American, are yeh?”
“Yes, but I live here now,” I always feel the need to justify myself when people ask if I’m American.
“Been here long?”
“We just arrived in Galway a few hours ago. I’m living in County Offaly,” I hope that’s enough to get him to stop asking questions.
“How long are you in town for? I’d like to take you out.”
“I’m sorry, didn’t you notice the gentleman who was sitting here just a few minutes ago? I’m here with him,” I am starting to get a little irritated.
“I saw him. Looked like a wanker. One of those country boys trying to keep up with a city girl,” he leans forward, and all I can smell is copious amounts of alcohol coming from his person. “I could show you a good time, lass.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Does that actually work on women?” Now I lean in so I can make my point clear, “I’m going to repeat this, slowly, just in case our different accents are somehow making it difficult for you to understand. I’m…not…in-ter-est-ed.”
A hand rests on my shoulder, “I’ve paid the bill, I think it’s time for us to leave.”
Gannon, thank God. I grab my jacket and purse as I stand. I’ve not touched the drink this very forward man bought for me. When I turn to look at Gannon, his expression surprises me. He’s looking at me with a deep level of hurt and confusion. His eyes flash to the stranger, and I see anger and jealousy reflected there. What does he think he’s just witnessed? Without missing a beat, Gannon takes my hand and leads me from the pub.
We’re walking at a brisk pace, and Gannon hasn’t said a word in the few minutes since we left Finnegan’s. I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to say to determine what seems to have upset him. Does he think I was flirting with that guy?
“Gannon?” He doesn’t slow down, so I stop entirely. “Gannon.”
He takes a deep breath and turns around to face me. The strain in his expression tells me he’s just as confused as I am.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demand, my arms crossed over my chest.
Gannon sighs, “You looked like you were having a good time while I was in the bathroom.”
“Oh, I did, did I?”
He gestures like he has no words to express what’s going through his mind. “You were laughing.”
“Oh my god. Seriously? Gannon, let me tell you something. That asshole said you looked like a wanker and that he wanted to show me a good time. I laughed because I couldn’t believe he’d actually said that thinking it would work!”
Gannon runs a hand through his hair. He looks like he knows he stepped in shit. I walk right up to him and slide my arms around his waist.
“I told him I wasn’t interested just before you got back.”
“You did?”
“Of course! Why would I be interested in anyone else when I’ve got the sexiest man I’ve ever met right here?”
He gives me a grin before he leans down to kiss me. It’s a long, soft kiss that leaves me breathless and wanting more. Gannon leans his head against mine, our foreheads touching and looks into my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t had anyone to evoke jealousy in me for a tremendously long time. I guess I didn’t know how to handle myself.”
“Well, if it ever happens again, do you think you could resist the urge to go all caveman on me?”
This time, his smile reaches his eyes, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“You were toying with me at the pub,” he whispers into my hair.
“No, I was teasing you at the pub. There’s an important distinction.”
His chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, “Oh? Tell me what it is that makes them so different.”
I lean back to look up at his face, “Well, toying with you indicates that I was playing games. For instance, if I was toying with you, I may have actually had a drink with that guy. But, since I was teasing you, I was never going to go through with it. I knew you’d stop me, anyway.”
“Is that so?” He’s devastatingly handsome as he gives me a half-smile.
“Well, am I wrong? Would you have let me go over there?”
“Not a chance.”
“And you obviously weren’t fond of the idea of him coming over to have a drink with me,” I quip.
“Definitely not.”
“So, are we clear on the difference then?”
Gannon laughs at me again. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, and we walk to the car park. I think he’s recovered from his momentary insecurity. If he hasn’t, I might have to put some effort into persuading him. Besides, if I’m being honest with myself, it was kind of hot to see his jealous side.
The whole way back to the B&B, I can’t help but replay what happened at Finnegan’s in my mind. If it had been me sitting at the table and some woman was flirting, I can’t say I’d blame Blake if she was interested in looking elsewhere. I don’t suffer from low self-esteem or anything, I’m just realistic.
Blake has made it pretty clear that she hasn’t been on the market since things ended with Vince. But, what if I’m just the first guy that’s caught her eye since then? When Blake left her family, she said she moved around mostly writing blog entries. Her social interactions were probably pretty limited. She says she wasn’t interested in that guy at the pub, and I believe her; I’m just not convinced she’s not going to be interested in the next one.
By the time we get back to our room, my head is a scary place. All the self-doubt I have swirling around in there is making me wonder if we’re moving too fast. Is she still going to be interested in me when she realizes there are plenty of attractive Irishmen in Ireland? If I wasn’t enough to keep Madigan, how the hell am I going to be enough for Blake?
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Blake is smart, sweet, sassy, and fantastic in bed. This girl does things to me that I’ve never imagined were possible. She’s everything I never knew I wanted. Blake is an intelligent young woman with her whole life ahead of her, is she really going to want to be stuck with someone like me? I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. My nightly routine suddenly makes me feel like an old man. There are traces of silver starting to appear in my beard and near my temples. Jesus, should I really be going gray already?
I come out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth and stop short. Call me a voyeur, but there’s no way I’m going to interrupt Blake right now. I watch her peel her shirt off and nearly forget my train of thought. When she turns to toss it in her bag, she gives me a sultry grin. Blake caught me staring, and she doesn’t seem bothered by it in the least. With slow, calculated movements, she hooks her thumbs under her waistband and slides her leggings off.
I’m rooted to the spot. My eyes travel downward to confirm my suspicions about her lack of knick
ers. Nothing covers the trimmed patch of hair that disappears between her legs. Blake is looking straight in my eyes as she reaches behind her and deftly unhooks her bra, carefully sliding it down her arms. I know it hits the floor, but my eyes are otherwise engaged. I know exactly where this is going. My dick is already standing tall, but I’ve got to keep control until I say what I need to say.
“Blake, I really am sorry for being so immature earlier. Forgive me?” I whisper.
“Of course. I would have been jealous if the tables were turned. Your reaction was confusing but understandable.”
I cup her chin so I can tilt her head up. When I look into her eyes, I can see she’s searching for something in mine. Maybe I have nothing to worry about, my fears are unfounded. I’m just being overdramatic. I might not be what Blake was looking for, but that doesn’t mean I’m not what she wants. I try to give her a smile that conveys my confidence in our newly kindled romance. From the way she furrows her brow, I know I’ve failed.