Kiss Me I'm Irish: A St. Patrick's Day Novella

by Genevieve Matthews

  Kiss Me I’m Irish

  A Saint Patrick’s Day Novella

  Genevieve Matthews

  Illustrated by

  Natasha Snow Designs

  Edited by

  Flirty Girl Editing

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Coming in April!

  About the Author

  Also by Genevieve Matthews

  Copyright © 2017 by Genevieve Matthews

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  “You look lost, love,” the bartender says as I approach the bar. I catch an accent that intrigues me and pulls me out of my funk.

  “That’s exactly what I am.” I walk up to the bar, my peacoat buttoned all the way to the top, Kate Spade purse slung over my shoulder. “I was hoping you could give me directions so I can get home.”

  He’s alluring in a dangerous way. From first impressions, he doesn’t give much away on the outside. He stares at me and I notice a scar on the side of his chin, just underneath his full lips. His jaw is set firmly. He’s definitely not making me feel like I belong here but for some reason my body is reacting to him in a way I’ve never experienced before. Maybe it’s the dark, intense way he’s studying me.

  It seems like an eternity before he finally answers. “You look like you could use a drink.” I’m about to respond when he continues, “Or a good fuck.”

  I just stand there, staring at him with my mouth hanging open. I should be offended, that was probably his goal. But instead my heart starts pounding against my chest and I’m worried that I’m going to blush. He probably thinks I’ll turn around and flee with my tail between my legs. Little does he know, thanks to my boss, I have more practice than I’ll ever need dealing with crass men.

  “I’ll go with a drink, thank you.” I scoot myself up onto the barstool and set my purse on the bar. Folding my hands in front of me, I meet his stare head on. “I’ll take a glass of wine, please, a sweet white if you have it.” I plaster a smile on my face and wait patiently for him to return with my drink. I shouldn’t let it bother me that he thinks I stick out like a sore thumb in here. It’s true…I just think it’s rude that he felt the need to point it out. Anyway, I used to know how to have a good time. Sure they’re distant memories now, but they’re still there.

  He’s back a minute later, setting a glass of wine in front of me.

  “You know, come to think of it…I’m hungry,” I bat my eyes obnoxiously, playing up the part of the dumb blonde, more of what he expects from me, I suppose. While I work myself out of my coat I ask, “Do you have a menu I could look at?”

  I would have thought I surprised him this time, but he looks at me like he knows this is all part of my game. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches over and pulls a menu out of a silver stand sitting just a few inches away from me.

  Again, I almost blush…almost. I hate that he’s getting under my skin. I should just ignore him for the rest of the time I’m in here, but whether I like it or not, I need his help if I’m going to get home tonight.

  He hands it to me and smirks. Before I can enjoy how handsome he looks with a touch of a smile on his face, it’s gone. It’s possible I imagined it in the first place. He’s back to unfriendly and intimidating.

  “Why don’t you tell me how you ended up here tonight.” He’s leaning on the bar, ignoring everyone else in the place. They don’t seem to mind, but I’m thrown off guard. With the introduction we had, I didn’t expect him to hang around and chit chat with me. Besides, I don’t get the sense that he’s asking to be nice. It’s like somehow he’s suggesting that I’ve made a big mistake.

  I let myself peruse the menu for a minute before I answer. Finally I say, “I was at a business meeting earlier in the day. I was distracted on my way home and must have missed a turn.” I shrug my shoulders, waving it off as no big deal. “I’ll have the cheeseburger,” I add, sliding the menu back in the holder on the bar.

  “Why does a business meeting have you so distracted?” he asks. “You were on your cell, weren’t you? Texting and driving?”

  I’ve just taken a sip of my wine and almost spit it right back out. I start to set my glass down but it instantly warms me so without hesitation I take another drink. Looks like I’ll need it in order to keep from blowing my top with this guy.

  I choose to ignore his baiting and stick with the facts. “No. For your information my boss is a huge asshole. I was probably daydreaming about him falling off a cliff when I ended up on the wrong road.”

  I’m not sure why I’m even bothering with this guy. I could ask someone else in the bar how to get where I need to go. Somebody that would be much more pleasant, I’m sure.

  I suppose it’s my stubbornness that won’t let me back down. I’m not going to let him see that he fazes me. I also don’t want to admit that he’s really damn sexy and is making my palms sweat and pulse quicken every time his eyes lock on mine.

  “Maybe it’s time for you to find a new job,” he says, like that’s the most obvious solution in the world. “Where do you work?”

  “The United Savings and Loan Bank. And I would love to find something else but if I can’t get a good recommendation I wouldn’t get hired somewhere else. And there’s no way he’d give me a positive recommendation if I told him I wanted to quit. I need this job, I would be destitute and bankrupt without it, so it doesn’t matter that the man makes my skin crawl.”

  My honesty surprises both of us.

  “That sucks,” he says. “It’s a good bank, though. The initial mortgage for this bar was through that bank. Maybe you need to switch to a different department. Get a different boss.”

  “Thanks,” I say, brushing off his suggestion. He doesn’t really have a clue what he’s talking about anyway. Things don’t work like that. If I could just up and choose a different boss, I would have done it by now.

  He pats the bar and walks back toward the kitchen, leaving me to drink my wine in peace. I watch him as he walks away. He’s a big man, muscular but trim. I admire how well he wears a pair of jeans while taking another drink of my wine. I’m warm and tingly inside. It must be because of the wine that I’m feeling this way around him.

  I’m a workaholic and it has been a long time since I’ve been with a man. But this man, this bartender, whose name I don’t even know, is stirring up feelings inside of me that have long been dormant. Maybe it was his bold observation and even bolder statement that I was in need of a good fuck. If only he knew how right he was.

  I drain the last of my wine and set the glass down on the bar. I’m really glad I decided to order something to eat or I wouldn’t trust myself to drive home. With nothing in my stomach, this wine is going right to my head. As if reading my mind, the bartender sets a glass of ice water in front of me, taking the empty wine glass.

  “Another glass?” he asks.

  “No, thank you. I need to drive home after this and two glasses would be pushing it for me.”

  “Got it. Your burger wi
ll be up in a minute. Anything else besides water?”

  “No, the water is perfect.” He’s about to walk away when I say, “I’m Stella, by the way.”

  “Rowan.” He pauses. It seems like he’s about to say something more but then he adds, “Nice to meet you, Stella.”

  I don’t know why I felt the need to tell him my name. I can’t help it, I’m becoming addicted to the way his eyes seem to bore into me. He’s intense, not at all playful or overly friendly like you’d expect from a bartender.

  But we’ve just met and already I have spilled all of my feelings about my job to him. The one thing in my life that consumes my time and causes me the most stress. And I can’t ignore the energy radiating between us. If he would keep his mouth shut and just let me enjoy his physical appeal I’d have someone really hot to fantasize about tonight. He’s handsome. Really damn handsome. And it’s totally unlike me, but this air of mystery and danger that surrounds him is a turn on for me. Not to mention, all of a sudden, I’m not thinking about work…at all. He’s very distracting.

  He walks over with my cheeseburger and sets it down in front of me. I’ve just opened my mouth to ask for ketchup but he’s one step ahead of me. He has already pulled a bottle out from under the counter and set it by my plate.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling. This smile is genuine and I’m desperate to see if he’ll return it or if he’ll keep his wall up. Because we all know this is some sort of act he’s got going on.

  “Let me know if you need anything else.” There he goes with that look again.

  What is wrong with me? I came in here for directions so I could get home and go to bed. Now I’m completely intrigued by this brooding bartender.

  I eat my burger, slightly too ravenously, but I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I started eating. Rowan’s around the bar, talking to people, mixing up drinks, but he doesn’t stop by me to talk anymore. He must be keeping an eye on me, though, because as soon as I finish he’s back, asking is there’s anything else I need.

  “Just my bill and directions,” I say.

  “Where do you need to go?” he asks.

  I tell him where I live and he easily gives me directions. He jots them down on a piece of paper for me, and I don’t know why, but it makes me feel good. Like he’s taking care of me, writing them down so he makes sure I don’t forget them and I get home okay.

  He hands me the piece of paper and once again, I thank him.

  “Look,” he says before I can walk away. “My offer stands. No-strings stress relief. If you want it, you know where to find it.”

  I wouldn’t be more surprised if aliens walked through the door and ordered a beer. Did he just offer sex? I mean, for real this time? I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.

  I reply honestly, “I don’t know, Rowan, that isn’t really my style.” I’m unsure because I don’t know if I could really go through with something like that. I’ve never done it before but he has definitely piqued my curiosity.

  I think if I would have told him to fuck off he would have played it off and dismissed it. Because I didn’t, he studies me, softening a bit.

  “Friday. We’re having a big St. Patrick’s Day party at the bar. Plenty of green beer. I’ll be here. Stop by, even if it’s just for a drink.”

  “Okay. I’ll try to stop by if I can get off of work in time.” I already know the odds of leaving work at a decent hour and my spirits drop because it means I won’t make it back here. And then it clicks, I’m disappointed that once again my job is keeping me from a social life. And this offer from Rowan has made me feel something that I haven’t felt in a long time. He didn’t scare me away like he intended, instead I’m curious about the heat we could generate together.

  “Make it happen, Stella.” He looks at me, challenging me. Silently demanding that I find my way back.

  Maybe he did feel the same pull that I did.

  Maybe no-strings stress relief is just what the doctor ordered.

  Chapter 2

  St. Patricks Day

  I check the clock sitting on my desk for the thousandth time today. Eight o’clock. I’ve almost finished the last thing that my boss requires of me for today and then I’ll be able to go home.

  Go home, change, and then go see Rowan, that is.

  A panicky sensation takes over me when I think about missing out on seeing him tonight. He has consumed my thoughts every moment of every day since I’ve met him.

  The mystery surrounding him, the danger…his offer.

  Initially I was convinced that I wouldn’t go through with this. I’m not the type of girl to have sex with a man she barely knows. But every time Rowan has crossed my mind these last few days, my body reacts. I’m no longer just an overworked, thirty-year-old woman. I realize I crave things too, naughty things. And now that he has offered to give them to me, it’s all I want.

  “Hey, you.” My friend Carmen rolls her chair over to my cubicle. “Any big plans for St. Patty’s Day?” she asks.

  I lean back and stretch, happy for the break and a little girl talk.

  “If we get out of here soon I was going to head over to this bar I stumbled upon when I was driving back from our meeting earlier in the week. It’s a place called McLoughlin’s Irish Pub. There was this bartender that I can’t get out of my head,” I say.

  “McLoughlin’s did you say?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what it was called.” I lower my voice before I continue. “I was so pissed after that disaster of a meeting that I got lost on my way home. We need to find new jobs soon, Carmen, that man is going to be the death of us.”

  “We’ll come back to that…haven’t you heard of the McLoughlins, Stella?”

  “What do you mean? Like their family?”

  “Yes! They’re Irish mob, Stella.”

  “What!” I say, way too loudly for our quiet office. “This is Boston, not Ireland.”

  “Of course this is Boston but that doesn’t mean anything. Don’t you ever Google things? Or read the news? The Irish mob can be in other places besides Ireland, you know.”

  “That’s crazy, where did you hear that?”

  “I remember hearing about McLoughlin and how he was a big mob guy. Maybe I watched a show on him or something. I don’t remember. He died a few years ago but he has two sons. The business passed to them.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Is there a chance in hell that she’s right about this? And how do I not know anything about mob dealings in our city?

  “I don’t know, Carmen. I didn’t get that vibe at all when I was in there. There weren’t any shady guys doing business in the corner or anything like that. No guys being led down to the basement. No guys in suits just standing around.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that obvious, Stella. It’s not like the movies. You need to stay away from there. You’re only going to find trouble.”

  “Carmen, you’re overreacting. There’s just no way! Trust me.”

  My spirits have plummeted anyway though. The thought of Rowan and his naughty offer has made me a new woman this week. I’m not eating my feelings at night, dreading going back to work the next day. I even found myself checking out my profile in my underwear in the full-length mirror in my bathroom.

  “Why don’t you come with me tonight? I’m planning on heading to a bar downtown to find some green beer to drown my sorrows,” she continues.

  “Thanks, but I’ll probably just head home when I finish up here.”

  “Okay. Are you coming in tomorrow or are you free for lunch a day this weekend?”

  “I don’t want to come in at all this weekend. What’ll happen if we decide to do lunch instead of reports?”

  “Maybe our dreams will come true and we’ll get fired,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her like she’s praying.

  “And then I’ll be selling myself on the streets.” I roll my eyes while she laughs but she doesn’t know how close to the truth it is for
me. “Any sign of Neil? You think it’s safe to leave?”

  “Let’s leave together, just to be safe,” she says.

  “Perfect. Grab your things and we’ll head out in five minutes,” I say, already shutting down my computer and organizing my papers for Monday.

  Five minutes later we’re walking to the parking ramp together, and I’m completely engrossed in a story she’s sharing about a guy she hooked up with last weekend. I’m curious about the logistics of it all, considering I’ve never done anything like it myself. I want to make sure I do it right when I finally get my chance. Do I stay the night? Just get my ass out of there? These are things I need to know.

  I give her a hug when we get to her car and tell her I’ll talk to her the next day to solidify our lunch plans. I’m so focused on my car, just a few feet in front of me, that I’m startled when a car door opens to my left and I see a man step out in my peripheral.

  “Miss Chambers,” he says.

  I whip around as soon as I recognize the sound of my boss’s voice. I take a few breaths to try to calm my heart from beating at such a frantic pace. His driver is in the car so it puts me at ease a little bit knowing there’s someone else in here with us. Not that he’d be helping me if something happened.

  “Mr. Anderson,” I say. “You scared me.” He doesn’t answer me, just continues to type something on his smartphone. He called to me, stopped me, and yet I’m the one standing here with my thumb up my ass waiting for him to make his purpose known.

  “You finished the PowerPoint for the presentation I’ll be giving on Monday?”

  No apology for scaring the shit out of me, such a class act. I want to roll my eyes and flip him off, but instead I nod my head.

  “It’s all ready to go sir. So, I’ll see you back in the office on Monday.” I turn back to my car, determined to get away from him as fast as humanly possible.

  “Miss Chambers,” he says again. I turn back but keep my hand ready to go on the car door handle. He tucks his phone away and crosses his arms across his chest. I call it his dominant caveman stance. He uses it anytime he thinks he has something important to say in the office. “I hope you continue to give one hundred and ten percent at this job. I know how much you need it and things are very competitive in the job market these days. I want to know that I can trust you with the sensitive information that we deal with every day at this company.”