Pushing Patrick: Fight Dirty (The Gilroy Clan Book 1)

by Megyn Ward

  She takes the menu and nods, that sugar sweet tone smeared across her face in the form of a smile. Tess watches her go, slim dark brow arched. “Was that weird?” she says, looking at me. “She was acting weird, right?”

  “I caught her going down on Patrick last night,” I say, waving a hand in Lisa’s direction. Right now, I didn’t give a shit about Lisa. “What did Sara say?”

  “What the fuck,” Tess hisses at me, slapping her hand on the table with a laugh. “What the hell did you do to him last night?”

  Her question sends another rush of heat through me. I can still feel his mouth between my legs. His tongue thrusting into my pussy, lips sucking my clit. “What. Did. Sara. Say?”

  She considers me for a few seconds like she’s thinking about leaving me hanging. “That he was gentle. Sweet. Generous. Considerate—all different words for the same thing.” Tess grins at me. “Boring.”

  “Of course,” I mutter, pulling the wrapper off my straw, sticking it in my drink.

  “What’s that supposed to mean,” she says, dark brows arched over her wide hazel eyes.

  “Nothing,” I shake my head. How can I explain to her that Sara’s description of Patrick’s bedroom behavior all but confirms that as far as he’s concerned I’m not girlfriend material. I’m not the girl you bring flowers to and put on a pedestal, treat gently and say sweet things to. I’m the girl you take standing up. Finger fuck in the hallway. And the kitchen. Laugh at when she all but begs you to fuck her.

  You asked for it. And fuck if I didn’t love every second of it. What does that say about me?

  Tess must’ve picked up on my tone because she narrows her eyes at me. “Wait—are you mad?”

  I shake my head—I’m not sure what I am right now. “He’s mad. At me. He wants me to move out.”

  Tess grins at me. “Revenge sex can be pretty hot,” she says, shifting back in her seat. “Truthfully, I didn’t think Mr. Predictable had it in him.”

  “Quit calling him that,” I raise my voice, drawing the attention of a couple of regulars, playing pool. I drop my voice to a harsh whisper. “Did you hear what I just said? He wants me to move out.”

  “That’s not what he said, exactly.” Tess pursed her lips. “Sounds like he’s leaving it up to you.”

  If you stay, I’m gonna fuck you. Whenever I want. As much as I want. However I want.

  My pussy clenched tight at the memory, forcing me to clamp my thighs together. “I know,” I say, pushing my drink away. “but he’s angry, Tess. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to stay.”

  Tess starts to respond but closes her mouth when Lisa makes another appearance, this time with food. “Here ya go,” she says, moving to set a plate in front of Tess before lifting it back up. “Oops.” She sets the plate in front of me instead. “Your wings are coming right up.” Lisa smiles, showcasing the candy pink lipstick smeared across her teeth.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, looking at the burger she placed in front of me then at the burger she put in front of Tess. They were the same, so why was she being so specific about who got what?

  As soon as she’s gone, Tess lifts the bun on her burger and adds mustard. “Are you afraid he’s going to hurt you?” she says, her expression caught between concern and disbelief. “Because I’ve known Cap’n a long time and he’d never—”

  I didn’t even have to think about it. “No.” Patrick had almost beat James to death with a bat for grabbing my arm. There was no possible way he would hurt me. “That’s not what I’m worried about… I’m just not sure our friendship is repairable.”

  “Did you try apologizing to him?”

  “Yes,” I bark the word. “Every time I even look like I’m going to say the word sorry, he—”

  “Gives you a mind-blowing orgasm?” Tess says baldly, chomping on an onion ring while shaking her head. “What an asshole.”

  “Shut-up,” I grumble at her and she laughs. I’d told her a sanitized version about this morning’s episode. I didn’t tell her about being so frustrated and desperate for release that I’d started finger fucking myself in front of Patrick or that he’d stopped me.

  If I don’t stop thinking about him, my pussy is going to chew my leg off. I force myself to focus on the conversation. “He won’t listen.” I sigh and push my plate away. There’s no way in hell I’m eating food Lisa touched. Not ever again. “What we did was mean. It was wrong and...”

  “We?” Tess says before taking a bite of her burger.

  “Yes, we—” I hiss, looking over my shoulder toward the bar again to find Lisa watching me. Now I’m positive she’s spit in it. “This whole thing was your idea, Tess. Patrick hates me.”

  “What do you care?” she picks up the bottle of ketchup and squirts a blob onto her plate. “I mean, really? You got what you wanted. You’ve scratched your Gilroy-sized itch and now it’s done,” she says, dipping another onion ring into the ketchup before popping it into her mouth. “On to the next, right?”

  That’s what I’d thought. What I’d fooled myself into believing but, no. Not on to the next. There was no next.

  There was only Patrick.

  Tess must’ve seen it on my face because her burger hit her plate with a resounding plop. “You forgot to mention that part while you were offering up your feeble protest about Operation: Get Gilroy,” she says, using air quotes around the word protest.

  I’d forgotten how observant she was. How easily she can read people. “What part?” I reach across the table to snag one of her onion rings off her plate.

  “The you’re in love with him part,” she hisses at me. “I never would’ve suggested any of it if I’d known you have actual feelings for him.”

  “What?” I scoff at her like she’s crazy. “I’m not in love with Patrick,” I say. “I’m just having my doubts over whether or not fucking him was worth ruining a friendship over.”

  “Uh-huh. Right,” she says, slapping my hand away from her plate when I reach for another onion ring. “Eat your own.”

  “I can’t,” I say, looking at my plate. “I think Lisa spit in my food.”

  She looks at me like I’m crazy but, something catches her attention behind me and her face drains of color. I turn to look, my stomach dropping onto my feet the second I do. Declan’s fiancé, Jessica breezes in, talking loudly on her cell, knock-off Coach bag swinging from the crook of her arm.

  “I wish you would’ve told me about you and Dec before I agreed to be one of her bridesmaids.” I turn in my seat to find Tess staring at the TV screen directly above Declan’s head. “I would’ve said no. I might’ve even spit on her.”

  My words draw her attention and she smiles like nothing wrong. “Are you kidding? If you’re not there, who will give me the down and dirty on how much of a train wreck it turns out to be?”

  “You know the only reason she asked me is because I’m a blonde and can pull of the dress, right?”

  “That’s not why she asked you.” Tess shakes her head. “She asked you because you’re my friend,” she says, getting ready to scoot her chair away from the table. “I have to use the—”

  I reach across the table and close a hand around Tess’ wrist. “You have every right to be here,” I say, stealing a quick glance over my shoulder. Declan and Jessica are arguing and Patrick is looking at us. He pissed and for once in recent history, it isn’t at me. Before I can blink he’s out of his seat, tossing back his shot before snagging the bar towel out of Declan’s hand. Whatever he’s saying, it looks like Jessica is temporarily mollified.

  I turn back to Tess and smile. “See? Everything’s—”

  “Christ,” Tess mutters under her breath, eyes locked on something over my shoulder. “Fuck my life.”

  Before I can turn in my seat and see for myself, a shadow falls across our table and I look up to find Jessica standing over us. “Cari,” she says, a plastic smile fixed to her face. “I’m so glad I caught you—we’re having a little girl’s day next weekend. Declan�
�s ordered a limo to pick up all my bridesmaids and take us to Anton’s for dress fittings.”

  Just then, Lisa pushes in, a basket of hot wings in each hand. “I’m sorry it took so long, the fryer is acting up,” she says, wedging the baskets between the condiment caddy and the napkin holder. “Is there something wrong with your burger?” She looks at me, seemingly confused.

  Uhh, I’m pretty sure you poisoned it.

  I shake my head, forcing a smile. “Nope.”

  As soon as Lisa is gone, I look up and catch Jessica looking at the food spread across the table, nose scrunched in disgust. “I ordered you a size six,” she says, shifting her gaze to take in my baggy sundress. I fight a smile because I know it’s impossible for to her to get a read on my current weight. “I hope that’s going to work for you.”

  I reach over and snag one of Tess onion rings and stuff it into my mouth. “Should be fine,” I say around the food in my mouth, being gross on purpose. “And if not, that’s what fittings are for, amiright?”

  Unamused, Jessica fakes a laugh before turning her attention to the real reason she came over here. “Hello, Tess,” she says, looking at the grease stains on Tess’ hands. “On your lunch break?”

  “Yup,” Tess answers, fishing in the basket of wings for a drumstick. Finding one, she pulls it out and starts to chew.

  Finding her opening, Jessica goes in for the kill. “I don’t know how’d I’d manage a job and planning a wedding.” The plastic smile turns nasty. “I’m so lucky to have someone like Declan to take care of me.”

  I feel my fingers curling inward, hooking themselves into claws but before I can launch myself at Jessica and show her what she can do with her size six, Declan appears, closing his hand around his fiancé’s elbow. “Let’s go,” he says, pulling her away from the table. “Sorry to interrupt your lunch.” He’s looking at me but he’s talking to Tess, I can tell. Tess doesn’t even look at him.

  “Don’t forget, next Saturday.” Jessica says, pulling out of Declan’s grasp to loop her arm through his. “It’s going to be so much fun.”

  Declan looks like he’s going to be sick but he manages to turn her around and pilot Jessica toward the exist, but before he passes through the door he looks back at our table and I see it etched plainly on his face.

  Regret.

  Twenty-six

  Patrick

  As soon as Declan leaves, I stop drinking. I’m going to have enough trouble getting through the next couple of hours without adding booze on top of everything else I’m feeling. I scoop some ice into a pint and added club soda and lime. If I don’t sober up soon, I’ll make some coffee.

  Cari and Tess are still here, both of them leaning into the table, talking quietly. Tess looks a bit shaken—a confrontation with Jessica could do that to anyone—but she’s recovering quickly. Just in case, I called Conner.

  “Gilroy’s Garage,” he barks into the phone, music blaring in the background.

  “Hey—it’s Patrick,” I say, keeping my voice low. “How slammed are you?”

  He laughs like it’s a stupid question. “At the rate I’m going, I’ll get caught up by Christmas. And that’s if Tess gets her ass back here and finishes the tranny rebuild and two oil changes she started yesterday.”

  I watch Lisa saunter over to their table and rip their check off her pad, talking while she slides it onto the table. I’m not sure I want to know what’s coming out of her mouth. “Any chance you can give Tess the afternoon off?”

  Conner sighs into the phone and I hear a sharp metal clang like he’d just slammed a socket wrench into the heavy metal table he uses for rebuilds. “What did that cocksucking brother of mine do this time?”

  I tell him about Jessica coming in and stirring everyone up before dragging Declan out by his balls. “He left you alone?” Conner says, angrily.

  “I’m not a fucking idiot, Con—I know how to use the bottle opener and make change,” I say, an unrecognizable edge sneaking into my tone. “I didn’t call about me, I called about Tess.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a pussy-whipped, dumb-ass, piece of fucking …” he mutters under his breath before letting the insult trail off. “How is she?” he says and I know he’s not asking about this brother’s fiancé.

  You know Tess,” I say, hitting the volume button on the TV above the bar, trying to drown out the sound of my voice. “She looks fine, but …”

  “Yeah.” Another sigh, followed by another clang. “Fuck it. Let me call her, tell her I’m closing up early to help you with the bar. Give her the night off.”

  “Alright, man—thanks,” I say, quickly, watching Cari carry her check up to the bar. I hang up right before she stops in front of me. “Need something?” I say, wiping the bar down in front of her even though it was spotless.

  She doesn’t say anything, just flashes her check before holding it out for me to take. As soon as I take it she reaches into her purse for her wallet.

  “Something wrong with your food,” I say, keying in the total while behind her, Tess’s phone goes off. She answers it, looking momentarily confused before the expression gives way to one caught between gratitude and annoyance.

  “I’m pretty sure your girlfriend spit in it,” Cari says, fishing her debit card from her wallet.

  I started to say Lisa wouldn’t do something like that but then I remember what Declan said about her. That’s she as crazy. Instead of defending her, I take the card out of Cari’s hand and run it for half the amount. Behind her, Tess finishes her conversation and gets up, heading for the door. She leaves without saying goodbye and I don’t try to stop her. She knows I called Conner and she’s pissed. A few seconds later, I watch her pass by the window, on her way back to the garage. She flips me the bird as she passes by.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say ripping off her receipt before slapping it and a pen onto the bar between us. I meet her gaze, my hand still settled on top of her receipt, not letting her take it just yet.

  She narrows her eyes at me for a second, an angry flush crawling across her chest. The birthmark on her chest is darker than I’ve ever seen it. The deep wine color can only mean one thing. Cari’s pissed. Between having my fingers inside her, her taste in my mouth and watching her finger fuck herself, my cock’s been hard all day. Knowing she’s angry at me pushes me across the line.

  “Thanks for coming,” I say, giving the last word some weight, just to see how far I can push her. I think it might be my new favorite thing. Seeing how far I can push her.

  Cari goes a little pale, the blood rushing from her head to her chest. She opens her mouth but before she can say a word, the side door closest to the bar—the one that requires a key—opens, letting Conner in. And he has someone in tow.

  Seeing us in what looks like the start of pretty good row, Conner jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “This guy’s looking for you, Legs,” he says, stepping out of the way so the guy behind him can step up.

  “I’ve got a delivery for Cari Faraday,” he says, reading the name off the clipboard in his hand. “That you?”

  “Yes,” Cari says, regaining a semblance of composure. She blots her hands on the skirt of her dress before reaching for the package. It’s large, two feet by three, thin with hard angles, poking through its plain brown paper wrapping. The delivery guy hands it over and she sets it on a barstool, leaning it against the bar.

  “Don’t keep me guessing, Legs,” Conner says, rounding the bar, pulling on an apron while he walked. “Open it.”

  She blushes, her birthmark glowing bright red, gaze darting between the two of us like she’s trying to figure out which one of us is playing a trick on her. Finally, her curiosity gets the better of her and she reaches out, ripping the paper away from the package.

  “Oh…” The words flows out on a sigh, soft and feathery, filled with reverent disbelief. Her hand flies to her mouth, fingers trembling just a bit against a mouth that slowly spreads into a smile. I want to vault over the bar to
get a look at what it is but I plant my feet firmly and wait for Conner to do his job.

  “Come on,” he says, giving her an impatient gesture. “Let’s see it.”

  She lifts the package and turns it, smiling and still a little breathless. When I see what it is, it’s like a fist slamming into my gut.

  It’s that painting. The one she went nuts over when it was on exhibit at the museum a few years ago. She must’ve dragged me there a dozen times to stare at it. The artist is local... I finally make the connection. It’s from that guy I met yesterday at the gallery. Everett Chase. Early thirties. Successful. Wealthy. Just her type.

  Knowing that, I feel the fist in my gut start to twist at my insides. Tucked into the corner of the frame is a small white envelope with her name printed across the front in small, neat letters.

  She plucks it from the frame and lifts the flap to pull the card free. I watch her big blue eyes scan the card, her cheeks so flushed, I immediately look at the spot below her collarbone. It’s as red as an apple.

  Someone clears their throat and we all look up to see the delivery guy still standing by the door, clipboard in hand. “I’m supposed to deliver your answer.”

  Cari looks down at the card, re-reading the note before bouncing a quick look up at me. Our eyes connect and hold for a few moments before she looks away, tucking the card back in its envelope. Picking up the painting, she turns, reaching out for the clipboard to sign for the delivery. “Tell him I said yes,” she says, handing back the clipboard before heading upstairs without a backward glance.

  Twenty-seven

  Patrick

  I tell myself I’m not going to follow her. I don’t have any real claim on her. So, I fucked her last night. Big deal. She’s a big girl. She can do what she wants, with whoever she wants. If she wants to go out with some rich artist, I can’t stop her. It’s not like I own her.