Bran wrapped his arm around her, tucking her close, which only induced more drowsiness. His chest was warm and cozy, and he smelled like Bran and laundry detergent. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to.
One thing was for sure—aside from family members, Ireland had never had a man be there for her the way Bran had tonight. She wasn’t sure where things were going, but he was the only person who’d stood by her and made her feel safe. And that meant everything.
Chapter 23
Bran woke with a start. He blinked several times, taking in his position on the bed, spooning Ireland. He also acknowledged the deep sense of relaxation and peace that filled him. It was the best damn night of sleep he’d had in ages. He wanted to wake with Ireland in his arms every day.
Bran considered staying right where he was, and then he remembered it was a workday and neither of them had the luxury of remaining in bed. Bran rarely took days off. Now that he thought about it, he was the only one of his brothers who didn’t… He needed to change that. How was he going to spend quality time with his girlfriend if he always worked?
He reluctantly rolled to the side of the bed and looked back, unable to help himself. Ireland lay on her side, hands tucked under her head. One of her smooth legs was raised seductively higher than the other, her shorts just barely covering the curve of her extremely sexy ass.
And now other parts of him were awake.
He wanted to roll back into her and draw her close, run his hand down those smooth legs, and other curves, fist his palm in her hair… This was a bad train of thought. What was waking a moment ago came fully alert and prepared for morning sex.
Bran rose and stretched his back, arms over his head. No way would he rouse Ireland after the night she’d had. He could control his urges. Had been doing it for years. Besides, he planned to seduce the hell out of her later, once she’d had proper rest.
He walked to the closet and grabbed a clean pair of jeans, along with a Club Tahoe polo shirt. On his way to the shower, though, he paused at the end of the bed. The blanket had slipped off Ireland at some point in the night.
He grabbed the thick blanket and gently covered her. That was better. Much as he loved her curves, he didn’t want her getting cold now that he wasn’t there to keep her warm… Which brought thoughts of just how he might keep her warm.
Dammit. Bran stormed to the shower.
When he was cleaned up and cooled off, he made sure Ireland was still asleep, then jogged quietly down the stairs.
He had texted his brothers about the incident at the club last night after Ireland had fallen asleep. They showed proper disgust, but no one was more furious than Levi. He’d been ready to step up security, and considering what could have happened, Bran agreed. They’d decided to add another security guard to monitor the parking lot. Of course, this entire conversation took about an hour, what with all the text shouting and attempts to get a word in edgewise among his four siblings. Group texts with his brothers were always a joy.
Bran messaged Adam to let him know Ireland might be late for work then turned on the coffeemaker. Drunk, hungover, or tired as hell, Bran never forgot to fill his coffeemaker the night before. Sometime soon, he’d buy a souped-up version and replace the one he’d bought before he started working at Club Tahoe, earning more money. One with a timer that poured the perfect cup. On second thought, he didn’t own a couch. The multitasking coffeemaker might need to wait until he ticked off the couch from his list of items to furnish his house.
He pulled out eggs and a few other items from the fridge and cut vegetables for an omelet. Contrary to his chosen profession, he wasn’t a cook, but eggs he could do.
Bran covered the finished product and popped in toast, setting mugs out on the kitchen island, along with utensils. He glanced around and winced. Now that he was paying attention, his place was damn depressing. He needed a dining table and chairs, and about a million other things. Why hadn’t he cared before now?
Because he’d never had anyone he wanted to impress. His house was a place to sleep and shower. He rarely ate here, though he kept essentials around.
The home he’d bought from Wes hadn’t been more than a glorified studio with a deck on a large lot. Wes had purchased it as a fixer-upper and had never gotten around to renovating. By the time Wes needed something bigger, he’d had a baby on the way with Kaylee, and expediency became a priority. So Bran had bought the house from his brother.
With the help of a family friend who owned Sallee Construction, Bran had recently made the place a full two-bedroom and added a second bath. The house was cleaned up, with a nice roof over his head, but it lacked any creature comforts.
Ireland walked down the stairs, her long hair wet, wearing an outfit she must have packed last night for work today. She yawned at the bottom and smiled shyly. “I passed out last night.”
“You did.”
“Sorry?”
“Don’t be. You needed the sleep. Though I can’t say I didn’t consider waking you this morning.”
She smiled and looked over his shoulder. “It seems you made me breakfast instead.”
“Disappointed?”
Her mouth twisted. “One morning, I’d like the Bran special—sex followed by homemade breakfast.”
He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, his hands finding her ass. “Don’t tempt me. I do all sorts of unexpected things where you’re concerned—showing up late for work would be an easy one to add to the list.” He kissed her neck, his mouth moving lower. “I break self-inflicted rules…buy furniture…and suddenly consider desk sex a perfectly acceptable activity.”
“You’re going to buy new furniture?”
“And I want to have desk sex. Did you miss that one?”
She reached around and grabbed his ass. Hard. “You’re the one who put a stop to that, not me. You know I’m game.”
“Ireland,” he said.
She kissed his chin. “Yes?”
“We have to go to work.”
“And?”
“And now I’m considering throwing you on the recliner and having my way with you.”
Her nose scrunched. “That doesn’t sound…reliable. What if it toppled?”
“Good point. Go shopping with me later? I need to rectify the furniture situation stat, so concerns like this don’t hinder our alone time. How are your skills with decorating?”
Bran left work early and picked up Ireland before heading to a local furniture store. He’d brought dinner from the Italian restaurant at Club Tahoe, and they ate at a picnic table on a grassy knoll across the street overlooking the lake. He couldn’t have picked a more picturesque location. With the sun low on the horizon, water lapping nearby, the setting was perfect. “Work go okay today?” he asked.
Ireland finished chewing a bite of spaghetti bolognese and wiped the corner of her mouth. “Great, actually. I told my boss about the program I built for Club Tahoe, and he wants me to create something similar for one of their larger casino hotels in Las Vegas.”
She beamed, and the garlic bread in Bran’s stomach hardened.
He chewed slowly, considering what to say. Ireland was happy, and he was happy for her, but he also felt greedy. The last thing he wanted was to lose Ireland right after he’d found her. “So you’ll work at another hotel? In another part of the state?”
She shook her head abruptly and touched her hand to her mouth when a crumb of garlic bread fell off her lips. Luscious lips…lips he wanted to kiss. “No, nothing like that. My boss will pay me as a subcontractor for the work. I’ll need to make a business trip or two, but Tahoe is my home now.”
The pressure in Bran’s chest eased. And that was a new experience. He’d never cared this much before.
“Which means,” Ireland went on, “my student loans will be gone before I know it.” She shook her head, a shy smile on her face. “Everything is going so well, I’m afraid to jinx it. I’ve never been this happy in my career and…”
“And?”
She grabbed his hand. “And I kind of like you.”
“Kind of?” He frowned in mock outrage.
“A little. You’re pretty hot. And sweet.”
“Hold on now—no one has ever called me sweet.”
“They didn’t know you, now, did they?” She leaned over and kissed his lips, the gentlest touch. That sent a flame to his chest.
He slid her closer on the picnic bench until she was pressed up against his side. “Just don’t call me sweet in front of my family. My brothers will never let me live it down.” He kissed her and showed her how not sweet he could be.
Face flushed, looking a bit dazed, she said, “Your secret is safe with me. Besides, I think you only show the sweet side to me, and I like that. Makes me feel special.”
He brushed a lock of hair away from her gorgeous green eyes. “You are special.”
Bran was happy for the first time in…he couldn’t remember how long.
Even his job was going well, now that Ireland had saved his ass. This was his first day since he’d taken over the restaurants at Club Tahoe where everything had run perfectly. After a year of working fourteen-hour days, he finally had a handle on things. And now he had a woman in his life he never wanted to lose. Not if he could help it.
They finished their food and made their way inside the furniture store before it closed.
Bran had talked to Ireland on the drive over about what he should buy. They both agreed a couch was the first order of business, followed by a dining table and chairs, and a dresser for his bedroom.
Bran would have been happy picking the first couch that fit his tall frame, but Ireland dragged him around the store, listening to the salesperson extol the virtues of each one. Whether or not the cushions were wrapped in down, contained springs…in the end, he nodded and read Ireland’s body language as to which one he should choose.
“The better-quality ones cost more, but will last longer,” Ireland said once the salesperson had given them a moment to consider their options. “What works for your budget?”
If she only knew. Bran hadn’t looked at his trust fund in years, but the last time he did, there was enough money to sustain a family of four for a lifetime in extravagant comfort. “No budget. Just find one you like.”
“You want me to choose?” She seemed surprised.
Didn’t she know how this worked? Bran didn’t care which couch he bought, as long as she was comfortable in his home. So she’d come over more. And stay the night. And watch movies with him. And beautify his place with her presence.
He shrugged. “I trust your judgment. But, pick one that fits me. There’s nothing worse than a tall man on a small couch.”
She giggled, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Bran hated shopping, but this wasn’t so bad. Ireland smelled good, and she was charming the salesperson, who’d already offered a fifteen percent discount on any couch they purchased today.
Ireland selected one with soft brown leather that didn’t feel cold to the touch.
He sat on it and decided it fit his frame. He neither sank too far down, nor felt like he was sitting on stone.
He crooked his finger at Ireland, and she sat beside him.
Bran put his arm around her shoulders, getting a feel for things. “This works,” he said, but mentally, he was calculating if they could comfortably have sex on the new couch.
They could. And now he was thinking of all the positions they might test out. “Sold,” he said before someone below his waist rose to the occasion.
Ireland picked out a dining table with cushioned chairs, along with a dresser and bedside tables she called “transitional with a rustic flair,” whatever that meant. The furniture was wood. It looked nice. That was all Bran needed to know before he threw down his credit card.
The salesperson charged him for the purchases with a promise to have the couch delivered in a few days. The rest of the pieces would be delivered as soon as they arrived from the warehouse, which would take two to four weeks.
It was a bit of a downer to have to wait that long after he’d finally decided to furnish his house. But Ireland said they could pick up lamps and other items that would make the place more comfortable, and Bran had mentally tacked on a new coffeemaker to the list. Which cheered him up tremendously.
He was going high-end on the coffeemaker, with a pre-soak grounds feature, altitude adjustment—the full deal. He’d research it all. But not tonight. Tonight he had plans with Ireland and the one piece of furniture he owned.
They made their way to his truck, and Bran looked at his girl.
She blinked. “What are you thinking about?”
He opened the passenger door. “You. And my bed.”
She grinned, and he walked around the truck and let himself in.
“What about me and your bed?” she said coyly.
“I was thinking how nice it was to wake up to you this morning.”
“That’s all?”
“And how much I’m going to enjoy waking up to you naked after I’ve loved your body a few times tonight.”
“A few!”
“I have stamina. Surprised?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I need to remind myself that the Bran you present to the world isn’t the real man.”
He leaned over and held her chin with his thumb and forefinger, kissing her soft lips. “Only you see the real me.” He quirked his eyebrow. “Speaking of seeing all of oneself, what do you say to returning to my place and getting naked after all that hard work shopping?”
“But we were shopping for hours and I’m hungry again. Let’s stop off and grab dessert.”
“I’ll give you dessert,” he said as he leaned in to steal another kiss.
“Not that dessert. I’m not kidding.” She pressed her hand to her stomach. “I didn’t eat much before dinner, and I need fuel for what you have in mind. You want me at my best, don’t you?”
Dammit, she had him there.
Bran calculated how long a stop would take. It was a conundrum. Make her happy with sweets, or make her happy with sweet and dirty lovemaking. “No need to stop at the store. I’ve got eggs in the fridge.”
Ireland swatted his arm. “Bran Cade, eggs are not dessert!”
He knew when he was outmatched. Bran drove to the supermarket and tossed every creamy, sweet, dessert-like option into a shopping cart, urging Ireland along when she lingered in any one place.
He grabbed the box of cookies she had in her hand and threw them in the cart.
“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous. We just had sex, like… Oh.”
“Exactly.”
“But you’ve gone longer than that.”
He snorted. “I’ve gone years, if you ask my brothers. That’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?”
He reached around and grabbed her ass. “My girlfriend is hot.”
She grinned, and then the smile slipped from her face.
“What did I say?” He loaded the food from the cart onto the conveyer belt. “Was it the girlfriend bit? I don’t have to call you that if you’re not comfortable with it yet.”
“I liked you calling me your girlfriend. Too much. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things are too perfect.”
The cashier was in front of them now, and Bran waited until they were outside, groceries in hand before he answered. “No other shoe is going to drop. I hadn’t met you until now, and things are perfect because I found you.”
“Would you have been ready if we’d met years ago?”
She deserved an honest answer. “I like to think so. You’re still you. It’s more than your beauty. It’s your intelligence, your sense of humor, your glasses…” He grinned.
She shook her head. “Only man who likes my glasses.”
“I doubt that. There’s probably a porn site dedicated to hot chicks in glasses. It’s a fetish.”
She looked leery. “Is it your fetish?”
He tossed t
he groceries in the back of his truck. “Never had a fetish until you came into my life. Now I have an Ireland fetish.”
Her smile was so bright, his heart made a double beat.
“I would have fallen for you no matter when we met,” he said.
They’d only just started officially dating. He didn’t want to scare her. But that was the point—he hadn’t had a girlfriend. Casual encounters were what he’d preferred. Until Ireland.
She was different. Smart, funny, and sassy were only some of her admirable qualities. She also smelled incredible, and her skin was the softest thing he’d ever felt. And he liked the way she fit in his arms, tucked against his body. She was somehow everything he needed and everything he didn’t know he wanted.
And now that she was his, he wasn’t letting her go.
Chapter 24
“You’re what?” Ireland’s eldest brother Gabe said through the phone.
“Bringing my boyfriend to Cali’s wedding,” Ireland said. “Well, once I ask him to be my date. Why?”
“Who the hell is this joker?” Gabe said.
“You’re such an ass. I’m a grown woman. Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“Not until I meet him and determine his intentions.”
“Right, because this is the 1800s. You’re being ridiculous.” Ireland glanced across Jaeg’s living room and rolled her eyes at Cali’s raised eyebrow. “Did you even hear what I said before you got all hung up on the boyfriend situation? Cali bumped up the wedding date. Are you gonna make it or not?”
Gabe let out a deep sigh. “I’ll check my calendar. What’s Cali’s rush, anyway? She isn’t knocked up, is she?”
Ireland stared at the ceiling and prayed for divine intervention. “No, she’s not pregnant—not that it would matter. Cali and Jaeg have been together for years and it’s a done deal.”
“It’s kind of last minute. I might have plans.”
Ireland pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hence the phone call and the need for you to look at your calendar. What crawled up your ass today? You’re super grumpy.”
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