by Cara McKenna
“Come on,” she whispered in his ear.
He grabbed her tightly around the waist, locking her body to his, holding her still through three long clenches. He was breathing hard as his arms went slack. Dropping his face to her throat, he kissed her—with idle fondness to start, then hungrier, full of gratitude.
It struck her anew, I met this man yesterday. How had they gotten here? How so fast, how so naturally?
“I could stay here forever,” he muttered happily. “But we better not.”
Oh, right, the condom. Thank goodness one of them hadn’t been fucked completely stupid. She made it to standing on jelly legs, and Connor headed for the bathroom.
She got her panties and the tee back on, then eyed the beers they simply weren’t meant to finish. She switched off the muted TV and took the bottles to the kitchen, and filled a glass with water. Connor found her as she was settling between the sheets. He paused by the bedside in all his naked glory, smiling. He looked just as she felt: surprised and pleased and just slightly perplexed to find the two of them together.
She patted his side of the bed. And easy as that, this beautiful, bare man was settling beside her. He put a palm to her neck then kissed the top of her head. She made a happy sound. A bald, open admission of smittenness she’d never have shared with a man she had a chance at a future with—not this quickly, anyhow.
“That was...” He trailed off.
“Yes, it was.”
“I like figuring you out,” he announced. “I’d like to do more of it before you leave Ireland.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“I’ll be the foremost expert before you know it.”
“What happens once you know me completely?” she asked. “Once you know every little thing that makes me crazy in bed? Once the car’s been built and all the figuring out is done with...would you get bored after the mysteries have all been solved?”
She’d meant it more to tease him for his tinkering fixation, but the way his expression changed, she knew the words hadn’t landed with any levity. His brows drew into a dark line, something like disappointment or offense tensing his features.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a downer.” Shit. How had she already violated their pact to keep this casual? Barely five minutes after they’d finished having sex, and she’d managed to cloud their weird little marriage-free honeymoon with talk of the worries they’d never need to face.
He stroked his palms up and down her arms, face softening some. “You’re my lover,” he said quietly. “Not a project.”
Perhaps not, but a diversion, surely, the way they’d set this up. A thing to explore until the time came for them shut the lid on this unexpected connection. Perhaps it had been Jamie who was guilty of viewing it without enough reverence.
“Did I hurt your feelings?” she asked.
“No, no. I’d just hate for you to think that’s actually true. It’d break my heart some, to imagine you going back home and thinking that’s all this was to me. That I made you think that from what I said earlier. About wanting to figure out how you work.”
Damn. It was he who’d thought her feelings had been hurt.
“I wouldn’t think that, I promise. And I liked what you said. I want you to figure me out.” She sat up straighter and held his gaze. “I’d be happy if by the time I left you knew how to please me better than I do myself. I’d love for us to say goodbye with you knowing my body better than anybody else has.” Better than the man I was with for four years, even. The one she’d been prepared to settle for, not having had any clue what she might be missing out on.
His posture relaxed and the lines between his brows smoothed. “Good.” He kissed her temple. “A selfish part of me would like that, too.” His face broke into a sad smile. “Though I couldn’t guess if that’d make your saying goodbye to me easier or far worse.”
“Depends on how well I manage to figure you out by then, maybe.”
His expression warmed and he kissed her head again. “By all means, then. Ruin me for every other woman I ever meet.”
“Which kind of ‘meeting’ do you mean, exactly?”
He smiled, eyes crinkling. “Any and all.”
She kissed his chin. “With pleasure, then.”
Chapter Six
Connor showed up at Donna’s at eight in the morning, right on time.
It was Jamie’s eighth day in Ireland, and the eighth consecutive day she’d seen him. None of her initial impulsive feelings had faded—she still felt as though they knew each other, in spite of the utter newness of their romance. And in fact, she did know him now. She knew the trivia of his life, like how he’d gotten the scar on his shin falling off a tractor as a kid, and that his favorite kind of cookies were store-bought vanilla sandwich wafers with lemon crème. More importantly, she knew for sure he wasn’t perfect. He snored—she’d had plenty of chances to confirm that this past week. He also couldn’t sing on key to save his life. Had this fling been meant to turn into something real, Jamie would’ve been investing heavily in earplugs.
Still, his charms outweighed his faults a million to one, and they’d gone seamlessly from perfect strangers to something that felt alarmingly, awesomely close to boyfriend and girlfriend.
And in no time at all, it was all coming to an end. The day after tomorrow. Almost too cruel to believe.
As his bike came grinding up the drive, Jamie set the thought aside. She had two more days with him. Focus on the time you still get to enjoy, not the seconds ticking away until you have to say goodbye.
She’d been texting with Kate, stuck in her office way back in Boston, and she signed off with, He’s here!
The biter? Kate’s preferred nickname for Connor, since certain sordid details had been spilled.
The very same. Love to your stinky cube mate, sucker.
A rude emoticon answered her and Jamie shut off her phone, laughing.
“Morning,” Connor called, tugging off his helmet.
“Morning yourself.” She locked the house behind her and hopped from the steps, picnic lunch packed in a tote bag and slung over her shoulder. They kissed beside his bike, the contact feeling as charged as always.
“Didn’t feel right,” he said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear, “waking up without you this morning.”
“I can’t impose on your roommate every night.” Connor’s flatmate was perfectly nice, but she’d been over there probably five nights in the last week. “Plus Donna will wonder what’s wrong with me, that I didn’t use any of the food she so thoughtfully left for me in the fridge.”
“Well, having room to stretch out last night proved extremely overrated.”
She wallowed in that notion—that a man had become attached to her. That he missed her, even when separated for only a night. A nice change after the dumping, feeling this coveted.
“Shall we crack on?”
“Yup. Got our lunch packed, if you can navigate.”
“Blindfolded. Let’s see what I’ve taught you this past week.”
They were driving to Dingle, a destination Jamie had chosen for its coastal location and ambitious distance, but also because the name made her giggle. We’ll always have Dingle, she’d imagined whispering dramatically against Connor’s neck during some tender moment. She’d driven to Cork three times now—first with Connor as her passenger then twice solo, and she was ready for the trip. Three hours, tops, and despite the narrow, sheep-strewn lanes of the scenic route they’d plotted, likely less stressful than getting in and out of the city.
She took her place behind the wheel, shocked at how normal it felt. Shocked frankly by how normal Connor felt, sitting so close to her. No—normal wasn’t the right word. Familiar, maybe. Natural. And she’d missed him last night, too. Missed him like a cold body craved a crackling fire.
She turned the key in the ignition. “Here we go!”
They passed the first hour in cheerful chatter, Connor pointing out towns and businesses they passed and
telling her stories about them. He’d rest his hand on her thigh from time to time, and though it took her attention off the road, she wouldn’t have moved it for the world.
After refueling the car and their own caffeine supplies outside Killarney, they buckled up for the final stretch. The scenery was pretty and they fell silent, Jamie’s head filling with what-ifs.
What if she and Noel were still together? What would she be doing right now? She wouldn’t be on vacation in Ireland, solo or otherwise. Noel was always too busy to take real vacations. It’d be the same old, same old. June in L.A.—already gaggingly hot. Passing the day while Noel was at the hospital, counting down the hours until she had to go to work.
What if this was her life instead? Traversing this freakishly green country in search of the sea, with this freakishly good-looking man as her copilot? Her passenger, even, as she’d been Noel’s passenger for far too long, bound for destinations she’d never been all that excited to reach. She’d kiss Connor by the ocean and maybe his lips would taste of salt, or of the lunch she’d packed them. Then they’d drive back to Cork, on the wrong side of the road—no problem! She could be this person. She was this person. For two more days, anyhow. And she’d take him to bed before his shift at the Crossroads began that night, then visit him for a late drink, maybe. Maybe let him take her home to bed once he closed the pub.
“There,” he said, breaking through her thoughts. “Do you see?”
“See wh—Oh!” The ocean, blue as a star sapphire and striped by the sunshine. She just caught a sliver before the landscape swallowed it back up. But soon it was back for good, their route heading out to hug the coast. Jamie was scared of the ocean—always had been, but from a safe distance she could appreciate its beauty.
“Holy crap,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes on the road. “You guys keep this kinda quiet, selling everybody on the green fields and the mist and the pubs and the cut crystal or whatever. Jesus, what a coast.” Nothing like L.A., with its perfect sand, perfect bodies. Not much like New England, either, with its rocky jetties and pebbled beaches, lighthouses and lobster boats. This coast was all cliff, stark and grand.
“I took you to Cobh, what? Three days ago?”
“That was different,” she said, eyeing the endless expanse of blue. Cobh was a seaside tourist town only a half hour’s motorbike trek from Donna’s. But Cork Harbour was mainly enclosed and densely settled—a bustling port, not a humbling infinity.
She pulled over when the roadside permitted it. It was windy—downright gusty—and she hurriedly pulled her hair into a bun. Connor’s leather jacket flapped until he zipped it up. They strolled toward the edge of the grass, as close as Jamie dared get, then a little farther, encouraged by Connor’s warm hand wrapped around hers. She peered over at the crashing waves, then turned her attention to the horizon, the water stretching out endlessly to the west.
“Wow...it’s so huge.”
Connor snorted softly.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what she said.”
“Anyway,” he teased, “you lived in California. Surely you noticed by now, the ocean’s quite big.”
“And Boston. But I dunno...it hits me every time. Especially here, where it’s so...empty. More like we’re at the edge of something. The end of the world.”
“In a couple days’ time,” he said, catching her eyes with his bright ones, “you’ll be all the way across that water.”
Her middle sank like a rock tossed out into the blue. Yes, she’d be all the way across those endless waves...all of her except her heart. That piece she’d have to haul back through the Atlantic on a string, hand over hand over hand, for as long as it took her to get over this man. Months? Longer? Shit, she was the worst rebounder ever. She should’ve looked up the definition of a fling and tattooed it on her palm.
“Are you ready for lunch?” she asked.
“Not here. Let’s go all the way to the end first.”
They got back in the car, arriving in Dingle after a leisurely cruise down the peninsula and through the town. It was a pretty village with color splashed everywhere—on the storefronts and signs and the boats bobbing along their piers. Past the bustle and buildings, they found a scenic, not-too-windy stretch of park and hiked out to the land’s end—or as near as Jamie’s phobia allowed—assembling their picnic on the squishy green grass. The ocean crashed and the gulls cried, and Connor’s accent stroked her warmly with every word he spoke. She wished this place were wild—undiscovered. That they were camping out here and she might make love to him on this grass once the sun was swallowed by the ocean, with only the stars watching them.
She wished a lot of things having to do with this man. But she didn’t trust a one of them. None of them fit into her plans, the ones she’d worked so hard to reassemble. The ones she’d put on hold for too long. The ones she deserved to realize, if only she could find the strength to put herself first for a change.
“These are delicious,” Connor said, reaching for another square of sandwich.
“Just cheese and bread,” she deflected. “The cows deserve more credit than me.” A lot more—Irish cows made some damn fine cheddar.
“Flask?” he asked, and she passed him the thermos of coffee. She wished it were a bottle of wine, but it was too early, and the journey was too demanding. She also wished Connor wasn’t working that night. She wished she wasn’t flying home in two days’ time. Funny how little wishing actually accomplished.
“Maybe someday,” she said, “in like five years, when we’ve got our degrees...we’ll both land our dream jobs, working for the same company.”
“Quite different departments, if you’re designing buildings and I’m designing engines or something.”
“It’s a very diversified company,” she informed him. “Anyhow, we’ll run into each other in the GloboCorp cafeteria, in London or Rio or Australia or wherever.”
“Will you drop your tray?” he teased. “So overwrought to see me?”
“No, because we’ll have already collided and dropped both our trays.” Enjoying this game, she lay back on the grass, lacing her fingers atop her belly. “We’ll both turn a corner at the same time, and you’ll slop soup all over my cleavage and I’ll scald you with my coffee, and we’ll be poised to yell at each other for being so careless. Like a bad romantic comedy. And then we’ll be like, holy shit, it’s you! And we’ll be too busy making out to fight.”
“Don’t know that I really picture myself working for a place called GloboCorp.” There was a rustling of wax paper, then he lay down beside her. “But I like the rest of that prediction.”
The future was beyond them to orchestrate, of course. But the present—it was within their control. Though the melancholy lapped like those relentless waves, Jamie did her best to stay right where they were, minute by minute. To memorize this breeze, this sky, this man’s voice. She didn’t even speculate on what tonight might look like, but instead contented herself to get lost in places as small as the warm embrace of his hand and the gentle lilt of his thoughts as he spoke them. There were a million intimacies between them now, the sort her nerves might normally have her missing out on, caught up in guessing what might come next.
What did come next was a lazy wander through the town. They got coffees and Jamie bought herself a necklace in a shop—her entire souvenir budget blown on a fat blue-black pearl on a long silver chain, with little crystal beads strung below it, like water droplets frozen midfall. Though she could’ve easily slipped it over her head without undoing it, she let Connor do the honors. She smiled unseen as his fingers fumbled with the tiny clasp at the nape of her neck. Those hands, so gentle now, struggling. But later, likely so brazen and bold, rough, maybe. Anything she asked for.
“Wish I could’ve bought that for you myself,” he said. “Except I’ve got my expenses mapped out down to practically the last textbook, for the autumn.”
She waved the thought away. “I figured. Plus it hasn’t been lost on me how you only
order plain old coffee every time I ask for some overpriced cappuccino or whatever.”
“That’s only because I’m so unspeakably manly.”
She laughed and took his hand. “Of course. My mistake.”
“We better head back soon,” he said after checking his phone. “I’m due at the pub at seven, to relieve my da.”
Given how long the trip would take, he too was budgeting in some time for a protracted goodbye before his shift began. Most likely to go down in her bed. With vigor.
She squeezed his hand and picked up their pace. “Yes, we better.”
Chapter Seven
“I don’t see why you think it’s creepy,” Connor said, looking around Donna’s front hall as he shut the door behind them. “I’d have killed to grow up in a grand old house like this instead of the flat above a pub.”
“It’s just...I dunno. Dim. And cold. And yeah, a little creepy. Compared to where I’m from, anyhow. Maybe it’s the remoteness.”
“True. Everyone’s got sheep for neighbors round here.”
He’d come here before with her, met her before a couple of his shifts. But they’d never gotten beyond second base for some reason. It wasn’t like the thrill of bringing him home to her actual apartment, her own bed. Going to his place was intimate, whereas bringing him back to Donna’s was more like a bed and breakfast. Some fretful kid in her worried she’d get busted.
But hey, this man made her feel like a teenager again. Maybe she ought to embrace that bygone naughty feeling.
Connor was looking around the front room at the photos on the mantel, and she studied him in turn. Just the subtle ways his body moved spoke to her. Did things to her. How on earth was she supposed to say goodbye to him? How on earth would she ever move on to someone else, with this fling left so...unfinished?
And should they get themselves organized enough to arrange for a reunion, would that even be a good idea? If this chemistry was still there, would it just make the distance hurt all the more?