Sensible Sarah clubbed Dreamer Sarah over the head and dragged her back into a cave. Taking some time to fool around with paints while she was on sabbatical was one thing. Indulging in old dreams when that ship had sailed was quite another—it would only lead to disappointment.
Her throat felt suddenly thick, and she took another quick sip of water then turned her attention back to her work. Judging by those pale beams still filtering in through the glass, she could work for another hour or so before she showered and changed into something other than a paint-splattered old pajama shirt for tea with Nell.
…
The light had started to dim when a fist banged on the door of her apartment, aggressively rapping out a tune.
“Shit!” Sarah jumped, and her brush slid through the paint on her palette, sending a thin stream of cerulean onto the thrift shop sheet she’d laid out to protect the floor.
She’d painted two hours longer than she’d intended, so deep into her work that she’d forgotten about showering and changing. She actually couldn’t believe that so much time had passed—it seemed like no more than a minute.
During the hours she’d worked, she hadn’t thought about Cian, about Ross—hadn’t thought about anything besides the strokes she was putting on her canvas.
It had been pure bliss.
A quick glance at her work told her that she’d gotten what she wanted, but the banging on the door sounded again, dragging her away from what she’d been doing. Not ready to show anyone until she’d had a chance to scrutinize it, she turned the easel around and hurried to the door, twisting the knob gingerly as she tried to keep paint off the brass.
“Took you so long I thought for sure Cian had nipped up from the pub for a quickie.” Sarah caught a glimpse of the wicked grin on Nell’s face before the tiny blonde steamed past her and into the apartment, pausing just inside to sniff the air. “It smells like you’ve been huffing hairspray in here. Woman, if you’re getting high, the least you could do is wait for me.”
“It’s the oil paints and the turpentine.” An edge of exasperation in her voice, Sarah followed the freight train that was Nell into her kitchen. “You know that.”
“What are friends for, if not to tease?” Nell reached for the kettle as Sarah paused, struck by the words.
She didn’t have any friends at home who were comfortable treating her kitchen as their own. It was…pleasant. Not the same giddy rush she got from painting, but a soft glow burning beneath her breastbone.
“Go on and clean up while I make the tea.”
Sarah did, wiping her brushes on a rag then cleaning them, and the paint streaked on her skin, with turpentine. When the smell lingered, she figured Nell would wait while she had a quick shower and dressed in clean clothes.
Finally paint-free, she hurried back down the short hall to the kitchen. Her pulse skittered when she saw Nell flipping through her sketch book from art class, but the fascination on her face soothed the raw edge of nerves that came when someone looked at her work.
“Does Cian know you’ve been painting naked men?” With orange-scented steam from the mug of tea in her hand flushing her face, Nell paused at one drawing that Sarah had done of a man from the front and her eyebrows arched up into her hairline. “Have you taken artistic liberties with this? If it’s anatomically correct, I might just be joining this class of yours myself.”
She stiffened, then remembered Nell’s earlier words.
What are friends for, if not to tease?
“I would never take liberties with my art.” Sarah’s voice was serious, but she wore a small smirk. Turning away to hide her smile as Nell continued to study the sketch, she pulled her laptop across the counter and opened it. She hadn’t checked her email in several days. Much as she was starting to see that she resented her parents for the pressure they’d placed on her throughout the years, she still knew that if they didn’t hear from her, they’d worry.
The first email in the list was from a woman Sarah had worked with at the auction house. She wouldn’t call Kristin a friend, exactly, but Sarah and Ross had occasionally had dinner with the other woman and her fiancé, a man with whom Ross occasionally golfed.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Sarah,
I debated whether or not to bother you while you’re on sabbatical. I know we’re not that close, but I never got a chance to tell you before you left that I’m sorry about what happened with Ross. I have some news, and I’m telling you this before you hear it from someone else in a potentially more hurtful way.
Justin and I had dinner with Ross and Tammy a week ago. I’ve agonized over whether or not to tell you, but I’d want to know if the tables were turned.
Ross gave her a ring. They’re engaged. I’m sorry, Sarah.
I hope Ireland is treating you well.
Kristin
Ross was engaged to someone else.
Ross had left her for another woman, and now he was marrying her.
Sarah blinked, waiting as though she needed to analyze her reaction, but nothing came. Mechanically, she deleted the email from Kristin, and before she could close the program, she noted that her inbox had five emails from Ross.
No way was she reading those right now. Swallowing, she shut the lid to her laptop. It wasn’t until she heard the click that emotion came in an overwhelming rush.
“Wow.” Quickly she seated herself, reaching for her own mug of tea. Taking a large gulp, she scalded her mouth, and spit the tea back into the heavy cup.
“Sarah?” Nell turned quickly. Her eyes quickly scanned Sarah, and she dropped the sketchbook onto the counter, moving in closer. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Sarah furrowed her brow, cocking her head to the side, trying to process the information and the strange numbness she felt. When she spoke, her tongue felt swollen and dry. “Ross is gettiengaged again.”
“Ross?” Nell arched an eyebrow. “Your ex-fiancé Ross?”
Sarah squinted at her friend; the very mention of Ross had made Nell scowl, so that she looked like an irritated pixie. For some reason this made her bark out a laugh.
“Yes, that Ross.” She frowned. She could feel emotion rising up inside of her, churning in her belly and making her slightly nauseous, but she couldn’t put a finger on what it was that she felt, exactly.
“I thought he just broke up with you!” Nell threw her hands up in agitation. Thankfully she’d set her mug of tea down first. “How can he be engaged already? That’s outrageous. People don’t do that!”
“Preaching to the choir.” Sarah wobbled a bit on the stool, still trying to figure out just what it was that she felt.
She wasn’t jealous.
She wasn’t heartbroken.
She didn’t want him back.
So what the hell was she, then?
Before she could ruminate on it for too long, Nell stomped across the kitchen and retrieved the bright blue wool poncho she’d worn there, as well as Sarah’s plain gray cardigan. Sarah watched with a trickle of amusement as Nell’s blond head popped through the head of her outerwear, her hair sticking straight up with static.
“There’s only one thing to do in a situation like this,” Nell declared as she tossed Sarah’s cardigan to her and pulled her to her feet. Sarah let herself be pulled along, feeling strangely light, as though she might float away.
She waited.
“We’re going to get you drunk, and then you can take advantage of Cian. I assure you, he won’t mind in the slightest.” Before Sarah could reply, Nell had tugged her out the front door, down the stairs and out the front of the building.
The air was so chilly that Sarah wrapped her arms around herself as they hurried down the street to Wild Irish. It cleared her head enough that when they pushed through the front doors of the pub and she saw Cian across the room, standing behind the bar and looking completely lickable in a flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, that she knew w
hat she was feeling.
Anger. Yes, she was pissed at Ross, but not for leaving her. No, she wasn’t even upset that he hadn’t thought she was worth as much as the stripper he’d left her for.
She was mad because she’d believed it, too. Somewhere the notion had caught hold of her and made her believe that it was her fault he’d left. That she should have been better, more…something.
But looking at the smile on Cian’s face as she and Nell made their way across the crowded pub? She knew that she’d gotten the better end of the deal.
“It’s happy I am to see you.” Leaning over the bar, Cian caught her by the elbows and tugged, lifting her until her upper half was bent over the counter. Fisting a hand in her hair, he crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her fiercely, his tongue flicking against the seam of her lips before he released her. She slid back down to the ground, weaving as though she’d already had a shot of whiskey.
“That’ll have to do me for the rest of the night.” He slid a pint glass down to the end of the bar and pulled another from the rack above his head, grimacing. “And it’s going to be a long one. I’m pulling double duty.”
“What’s happened?” Nell arched an eyebrow at a boy who barely looked old enough to drink the pint he had clutched in his hand, and he flushed before sliding off the stool he occupied, allowing her to climb on.
“Ainsley hasn’t called you yet?” Cian asked, and Nell shook her head.
“My battery’s low, so I haven’t been checking often today.” Pulling her phone from her pocket, she swiped it on, her eyes scanning her texts. “Oh, shit.”
“Ainsley fell off a stool in the kitchen earlier and sprained her ankle,” Cian said, responding to Sarah’s questioning gaze. “She’s back at her flat with some painkillers and the phone number of the young doctor who prescribed them.”
“I should go keep her company.” Nell smiled apologetically at Sarah. “You’ll be all right? I’d offer to stay and lend some hands, but we both know how that turned out last time.”
Cian winced and shook his head vigorously. “No, no, you go on.” He explained, “Last time she helped bartend, I lost as much in broken glassware as I made in profit.”
Before she could think it through, Sarah blurted out the first thought in her head.
“I can help.”
Both Cian and Nell smiled weakly, and Sarah glared. “What? I can!”
“You’ve already had a rough night—” Nell started.
Cian cut her off. “What happened?” He glared at Nell. “Why are you just getting around to telling me this now? Sarah, there’s no need. I can handle this myself.”
Her temper simmered, her anger at Ross adding to her growing irritation with Cian and Nell. She gestured with her head to the large herd of tourists stumbling their way in from outside, smirking as she did.
“You’re saying you can handle all of these people by yourself, then?” Rolling her eyes, she pushed past two men seated at the end of the bar and rounded the corner. She headed to the opposite end from where Cian stood. “I’ll be over here waiting for you to get your head out of your behind.”
Turning to the first person waiting for a drink, she smiled brightly, welcoming the chance to push her feelings away for the time being. “What can I get for you?”
Hours later, she slumped to the floor behind the bar as the last crowd of people exited through the front door. Cian loomed over her, a grin on his face as he handed her a bottle of crisp, cold water.
“How do you do that night after night?” She winced as she toed off her shoes and wiggled her feet. “I’m not going to be able to stand for days.”
“You were amazing.” Tugging her to her feet, Cian lifted her so she was sitting on the bar. Pride rose in her chest as she heard the absolute sincerity in his words.
She was actually amazed at how well she’d done. There had been that mishap when she’d filled a Guinness right to the top instead of building it as she’d seen Cian do. And some of the customers had had to help her make change with the money that was still foreign to her, but all in all, she was pretty sure she’d rocked it.
“Oh ye of little faith,” she teased, running a hand over Cian’s brow and the fascinating silver bar in it. Catching her hand, he pressed it to his cheek, snaring her with a glance that made her heart skip a beat.
“I was wrong,” he said simply, sliding her hand to his mouth. Her pulse skittered as he pressed a kiss into her open palm. “It’s like you belong.”
Tingles ran over her skin, little shocks of excitement as she absorbed his words. Now, after the long night in the pub, she couldn’t dredge up any feeling for Ross and his new fiancée at all. It seemed like a problem that lay far away, an ocean away from Ireland.
Ireland. The place she was starting to feel like she did, indeed, belong.
Chapter Nine
When Sarah slipped behind the bar to pull the drinks Cian had poured onto her tray, he slid into the narrow space behind her. Resting the tips of his fingers on her hips, he dipped his head to whisper in her ear, close enough to be heard over the din. “I think Ainsley has things pretty well handled for the next twenty minutes.”
“Do you, now?” Sarah shivered as his warm breath blew over her sensitive flesh. She was already flying high tonight, flushed with the victory of being asked to work at Wild Irish again. Several agains, actually, over the last few weeks. A rugby team that a lot of locals followed had won some important match, and spirits in the pub were high. That, combined with the way Cian’s gaze followed her around the room as she took orders and delivered pints of beer and platters of chips, had her heart fuller than it had ever been before.
For the first time in her life, she was starting to feel like she belonged.
“I think she’s more than capable,” he whispered again, this time nibbling at her lobe. “That’s why you’re going to nip to the toilet and take off your panties.”
“What?” She stiffened, but it wasn’t because she was repulsed—on the contrary, it was because she was shocked.
Shocked that the idea turned her on.
“Like that, do you, darlin’?” Cian laughed, low and wicked in her ear. “I haven’t even told you the rest.”
Sarah ran her tongue over her lips. She wanted to say something flirtatious in return—to be the kind of girl who could be confident and alluring.
Why can’t I be that kind of girl?
Sucking in a deep breath, she pressed herself back, rotated her hips in a slow, subtle circle. He growled in her ear, his grip on her hips tightening.
“I like when you get dirty.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s why you’re going to come back and tuck those panties in my pocket.”
Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
“What’s going to happen then?” For a moment Sarah felt as though she was out of her body, floating somewhere overhead and watching herself. How was this her life? How was she here, in the arms of the sexiest bad boy she’d ever met, contemplating doing the naughty thing he’d just whispered in her ear.
She was happy. She wanted this to go on forever. And no sooner had she thought that than her stomach did a slow roll.
She couldn’t stay here forever. She had a condo back in Boston. A job waiting for her. Her family, her friends.
She couldn’t just pack up and move to Ireland forever. Could she?
“Then when your panties are in my pocket, you’re going to walk across this floor, me knowing that you’re completely bare beneath that little skirt. You’re going to head into the pantry off the kitchen, and you’re going to wait for me there.”
“Cian,” she breathed. She couldn’t do that, couldn’t do in public what he was proposing.
And yet she was already picturing it. Already sliding out from Cian’s arms and looking back over her shoulder at him with a small smile. The light caught on the ring in his brow, making him look so sexy that her entire body tightened with anticipation.
As she watched, his attention caug
ht on something behind her. She turned quickly to see what had caught his attention.
Her heart plummeted into her stomach, and anxiety started to churn. A man had pushed through the heavy front door of the pub. He stood just inside, his charcoal trousers and pale blue button-down shirt only the slightest bit wrinkled after what she knew had been a very long trip.
She knew because the man was Ross. Ross, her former fiancé.
He frowned slightly as he took in the room, adjusting the fit of his wire-rimmed glasses. His lips curled slightly as his gaze passed right over her. Then his stare jerked back, and his mouth fell open.
“Sarah?” She’d never really noticed his East Coast accent before, but she’d heard nothing but the musical lilt of Irish accents for weeks now, and the voice she’d once thought she loved grated a bit on her ears.
“Ross.” She felt someone move up behind her and a solid hand landing on her shoulder; she didn’t have to look to know that it was Cian. He pressed against her, his front to her back, and some deep, primal part of her was thrilled to have him touch her like this in public.
Claiming her. Declaring that she was his.
“What are you doing here?” She had to blink hard, but when she opened her eyes again, Ross was still there. Yes, this man that she’d come all the way across the ocean to get over was here, standing out in this place where she’d just started to feel happy.
Resentment started to simmer as he made his way slowly across the room, stopping with an incredulous expression when a boy of about ten darted in front of him waving a flag. When he finally closed the space between them, he reached out as if to pull her into his arms, and she jerked backward, pressing herself tightly against Cian.
“Sarah. I…” Ross’s gaze darted from her to Cian then back to her, confusion in his pale blue eyes. “It’s good to see you.”
“Thank you.” It sounded like a question, but she just couldn’t reconcile his presence here. She couldn’t help but repeat her question, loudly. “Ross, what on earth are you doing here?”
Kiss of the Irish (Foreign Fling) Page 12