Irish Love

by Amanda Heartley

  She sighs and smiles. “Wow, you two didn’t waste any time getting together, did you? But, that’s wonderful. The best love stories always blossom from holiday romances,” she informs us. “And the forbidden ones are the best. At least in the bedroom,” she adds with a wink. “Did I ever tell you about me and the—”

  “No, and you’re not going to,” he interrupts, while I try to stifle a laugh. He glances at me and shakes his head. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters.

  “Aww, spoilsport. Don’t be such a prude, Ben,” Grammy says as she finishes her joint and stubs it out on the ground. “I may look like a sweet old lady now, but I was a tiger in my day.”

  “I’m sure you were, Grammy, and that’s wonderful, but I think the weed has made you forget that’s just a little TMI for your grandson and his brand-new girlfriend to handle,” he says with a big grin on his face. “Your friends back at the home would appreciate your stories, though. Now, if you’re finished with your pot-smoking, shall we go back there?”

  She throws her hands in the air in defeat and drives us back to the home. When we stop, Ben glances at me and takes my hand. He leans in closer and kisses me on the mouth. I sigh, my heart melting.

  “Just for show,” he softly whispers in my ear. I nod, but a wave of disappointment hits me at the same time. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, then leans in again and kisses me on the lips. This one sends shivers down my spine. I look him in the eye and swallow the growing lump in my throat.

  Was that just for show too?

  “See,” he mumbles under his breath as Grammy glances over at us and smiles. “She's loving it.” I can’t deny that. Grammy does seem to be happy seeing Ben with someone.

  “She's really sweet, and so funny, too,” I say to him. “I’m actually having a good time. Thanks for bringing me to meet her.”

  “Thanks for coming,” he says.

  His eyes meet mine again and we stare at each other for a moment, until the sound of Grammy clearing her throat startles us apart.

  “Sorry to tear you two away from each other, but could you be a dear and open the door?” she asks Ben.

  We go inside and hang out with her for a bit longer, until her nurse informs us it’s nearly tea time. I glance at my phone. It’s not even four o’clock, but whatever, I guess rules are rules around here. Ben says he’s going to call his mother, but he’s left his phone in the car, so he gives Grammy a hug and a kiss, promising he’ll visit again soon. I say I’ll join him in a minute, then he’s gone, leaving us alone.

  “It’s been lovely meeting you,” I say to her.

  “You too, my dear,” she says, smiling at me. “I love seeing Ben so happy, and he hasn’t been this happy in a long time.” There’s an honesty in her voice which makes me swoon. “He’s a good boy, Siobhan. He hides it with cheek sometimes, but deep down, you won’t get a sweeter, more thoughtful young man than him.”

  I smile, because I totally believe that. I lean over to kiss her on the cheek, then turn to leave. Just as I’m walking out the door, she calls out to me.

  “Oh, and Siobhan?” she says, and I turn around. Her eyes twinkle. “I might be eighty-five, but I’m not senile.”

  “Pardon?” I say, shocked.

  “I know my grandson well enough to know he’s pulling a little stunt. Getting you to pretend to be his girlfriend for poor little old Grammy?” she smiles and shakes her head. “I don’t give a crap whether he’s married, single, gay or straight. I think my boy just wanted to mess with you.” Her eyes twinkle. “And the only reason he would do that, is if he likes you.”

  “Really?” I say. I narrow my eyes and smile at her. “Thanks, Grammy. This chat has been very useful.”

  I walk outside and arrive back at the car at the same time Ben’s finishing up on the phone. I could get upset or angry about him lying to me that his earlier kisses were just for show, but I won’t. I smile at him, climb into the car, and strap on my seatbelt. Getting even is going to be so much more fun.

  Chapter Five

  Ben

  When we get back to the hotel, I press the elevator button for level four, where her room is located, and hold the doors open when we get to her floor. She gets out then turns back to me and smiles.

  “We might as well make the most of tonight and go out?” she suggests.

  I shrug. “Okay. Sounds good to me. As long as we keep you away from the alcohol.” She glowers at me. “I guess Grammy would be happy to hear I’ve taken you somewhere nice for dinner,” I begrudgingly admit.

  She nods her agreement, a smile forming on her lips. “I'm sure she'd love to hear that.”

  “Okay, then. I'll pick you up at six?” I say.

  She nods. “Six it is. See you then.”

  ***

  I take a shower and get changed, then at six o'clock sharp, I'm knocking on her door. She opens it and I'm taken aback. She looks simply stunning in the same dress she wore last night. I shift nervously, because if she's trying to see how long it would take me to cave and give in to the attraction I’m feeling for her, then I'm giving it five minutes.

  “Hey,” she says. “It was either this old thing, or the I Love Vegas t-shirt,” she jokes.

  “That’s more than fine,” I mumble, my cock twitching in my pants.

  “And, before you start questioning my hygiene, I washed it in the bath,” she adds.

  She smells as good as she looks, and the thought never even entered my head.

  “Let’s go,” I say. If I stand there any longer, it’s going to become blatantly obvious just how sexy I think she looks. I grab her hand and lead her down the corridor to the elevator. When we step into the foyer on the ground floor, I look over in surprise when she takes my hand.

  “Come on, Ben. For Grammy's sake,” she says with a grin.

  “Sure,” I say. Something about the way she’s looking at me makes me nervous, but I dismiss it as maybe me just being paranoid. There’s something quite beguiling about her.

  We walk outside the hotel and down a few blocks toward the little restaurant I’ve chosen to take her for dinner. It’s a little quiet, even though it’s a Monday evening, but the whole walk there, she’s looking around, taking in the streets of Vegas. For me, it’s second nature, but I remind myself she’s a small-town Irish girl. All the flashing neon lights must be quite something for her to see.

  “I hope you like seafood,” I say as we walk into the restaurant.

  She nods. “I love it,” and I grin. Phew, good call, Ben.

  We sit down at a table overlooking the casino next door. She can’t drag her eyes away from all the lights. Over the top of my menu, I watch her as she studies her own. Her expression is so serious, you’d think she was deciding which hedge fund to invest her life savings into, rather than how she wants her fish cooked.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask her.

  “I can't decide between the scallop and prawn risotto or the seafood fettuccine with Alfredo sauce,” she finally admits.

  “Then how about you get one and I get the other?” I suggest. “Then you can try both and decide which you want.”

  She smiles at me. “That sounds good.”

  It turns out, they’re both amazing and the decision is even harder when they’re both presented in front of her. We both eat half, then swap, so we get the best of both worlds.

  “Okay, this place has fast become my highlight of this trip. I’m ready to move here just for the food in this restaurant.”

  I laugh. “You’d move here for some fish? I thought I would’ve been the highlight, judging by that kiss last night,” I murmur.

  She looks up at me, shocked I’ve brought it up. I hold her gaze and smile at her. I should be backing off, not encouraging her, but I can’t help myself.

  “I was drunk. I’m sorry I kissed you,” she mumbles, her cheeks turning pink.

  “I’m not,” I reply. She stares at me for a moment, not saying anything, then opens her mouth, just as the waiter interrupt
s us to ask if there is anything else we need.

  “Um, I think we’re good,” I say. “Can we have the check, please?”

  ***

  As soon we walk outside, I see Siobhan eyeing up the casino next door. I smirk at her and suggest we go in.

  “Sure,” she agrees. “Though I’m not much of a gambler,” she adds, wincing.

  “You don’t need to be a gambler. You’re in Vegas. Just have fun.”

  We sit down at the bar and have a drink. She orders a juice, while I order a beer.

  “Don’t trust yourself around me,” I tease.

  “No, I told you. I don’t like the taste of alcohol,” she retorts, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “Sure. So,” I say, looking around. “How does this compare to Ireland?”

  “Everything is so much bigger,” she enthuses.

  “That’s what all the foreign girls say,” I quip, smiling.

  She blushes and looks down. “Actually, I know I’ve only been here like five minutes, but I am a little homesick. I’m not sure I could live so far away from my family. Sure, it can be as noisy as hell in our house when everyone’s there, especially us girls, but sometimes I don’t want much more than to sit down and have a chat with them, you know?”

  I nod, understanding exactly what she’s saying. “You and Rory are obviously close,” I comment, “but are you as close with your sisters?”

  “Yes, but I’m so much closer in age to Rory that we spent lots of time together growing up. My sisters, I have a different relationship with. The older ones are almost like mother figures to me. What about you?” she asks. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  I nod. “A brother and a sister. Both a lot younger, so I get the secondary parent thing you’re talking about.”

  “And you mentioned your mom. Is your dad around too?”

  I shake my head. “He died when I was young.” I take a sip of my beer, thinking about him. “I guess that just adds to the feeling that I’m like a father to them.”

  “That must have been hard for you,” she says.

  “It was. But you just have to deal with it, you know? What other choice do you have?”

  She smiles at me then glances around, and I follow her gaze. She spies the poker tables in the far corner of the level we’re on, and her eyes light up. She turns back to me, a cheeky grin on her face.

  “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play poker,” she says. She looks up at me with her deep green eyes, pleading with me. “Will you teach me?”

  I groan. Hearing her say those words nearly has me coming on the spot. And poker? Could this girl be any more perfect for me?

  “Talk to me like that and I’ll teach you whatever you want me to teach you,” I mutter, my voice a low growl.

  “How about we make this interesting?” she says with a grin as we walk over to the tables, hand-in-hand.

  “Okay, what do you have in mind?” I ask.

  “Oh, I don't know, but it's much more fun playing for something,” she says.

  I nod. I'm pretty good at poker, and I'm confident that I can beat her, even if she happened to get a stroke of beginner’s luck. I think about it for a moment and nod in agreement.

  “Okay, winner chooses the music on the drive home. Fair?” I say, keeping things clean, even though I want to offer her much, much dirtier terms. She thinks about it for a moment then shakes her head. “No?” I say.

  “No,” she confirms. “If I win, then later, back in my room, you’re going to slowly strip for me… and dance.”

  “I’m going to what?” I say with a laugh, confident that’s something I won’t be doing. “And if I win?” I ask, frowning at her. “Do you strip for me?” I murmur.

  She grins at me and shakes her head. “Oh, no, lover boy. You already decided on choosing the music on the ride home, remember?”

  “Huh? But, that’s not fai—” I begin to protest before she interrupts me by putting her soft finger to my lips.

  “Shh. It was your call, and you blew it,” she says. “Should’ve asked for more when you had the chance. Now, come on. Let’s play.”

  Half an hour later, I realize I blew it all right, and not in the good way. She’s fucking incredible. I shake my head in disbelief as I watch her wipe out another player, pulling the stash of chips over to her. No, I’m wishing I'd never agreed to her terms, because it’s becoming very clear she has me by the balls.

  Beginner’s luck my ass.

  I narrow my eyes at her, because something isn't sitting right with me. She smirks innocently at me and bats her eyelashes.

  “You're pretty good at this,” the guy next to her comments.

  She smiles at him, then at me. “Let’s just say I may have been junior poker champion back home in Ireland… two years running,” she grins.

  “Shocking,” I mutter. “I can’t believe you took advantage of me like that.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” she says. Her eyes sparkle as they narrow slightly on me. “But the main thing is, Grammy’s sleeping well tonight, knowing her favorite grandson is deeply in love. Right?”

  I start to laugh out loud as I realize what’s happening. I’ve been played.

  “She told you, didn’t she?” I say.

  “What do you think?” she says, sweetly cocking her head sexily to one side, fluttering her eyelashes at me again like some innocent child. I think about that for a moment before I answer.

  “Fair play to you. You got me. I think I should buy you a drink for that,” I offer.

  One turns into three, and before I know it, I'm carrying a drunk Siobhan back to her room for the second time. I swear this wasn’t my plan, but when she pulls me inside and kisses me, I can’t fight it. I kiss her back, my heart pounding as my lips press against hers. It feels every bit as good as our first kiss, only this time I know what I’m doing is wrong. My hand creeps under the back of her skirt. She smiles through her kiss.

  Then I remember how drunk she is and I'm not going to take advantage of her.

  I lay her on the bed, but she rolls off before I’ve even made it to the door. I stand there, staring at her, not sure what to do. I can’t leave her like this. I glance at the couch and shake my head.

  “Come on,” I murmur, helping her back up onto the bed. “You need to sleep this off.”

  I place pillows on either side of her to stop her rolling, then walk over to the couch and collapse on it. I glance over at her occasionally to make sure she hasn’t tossed them aside, and after a while, she seems to have settled down enough for me to relax. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of her snoring. I can’t keep the smile off my face as I think about what a fun night it was. I love the way she got me, like a silent assassin. She got me good, and I chuckle to myself.

  ***

  I must've fallen asleep, because when I wake, daylight is just starting to break through the blinds. My head aches from the position I’ve been lying in on the couch. I tentatively get up and rub the back of my shoulder, cracking it, before I walk out onto the balcony. My phone rings. It's Rory. I frown, because it's barely six in the morning.

  “Jesus, you're hard to get hold of,” he mumbles when I answer. He sounds both relieved and stressed.

  “Sorry, buddy, but most of us sleep through the night and it’s still fucking early, you know?” I reply. “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh yeah. Why wouldn't it be?” he asks.

  “Um, no reason I guess,” I say. What the hell is going on with him?

  “Is Siobhan with you?” he finally snaps out.

  “What? Why would you ask me that?” I say, feeling a little nervous about what he might know.

  “Because she posted a photo of herself on Facebook and it looks like your leg in the picture. Well, your trousers, at least.”

  Oh shit. “She’s in Vegas?” I say, acting surprised.

  “You’re telling me you didn’t know that?” he growls.

  Fuck. I have no idea what route to take here. Should I be ho
nest, or do I try and convince him it’s a coincidence?

  “I told you, man. I'm here to visit my mom and family,” I say, trying to side-step his question.

  “So, you haven’t seen my sister?” he asks.

  “No,” I say. I close my eyes as I say it, because I hate lying to him.

  “Okay,” he says with a sigh. “I trust you. Let me know if you do see her, okay?”

  I agree, hang up and walk back inside, trying to forget about how shit I feel about deceiving him.

  The first thing I notice is the bed is empty, but then I hear the shower running and I relax. I sit back down on the couch in the darkness, waiting for her to come out so I can go back to the safety of my room. I hear her turn off the shower, and a few minutes later the door opens. Siobhan walks into the room, and I groan when I see she's wrapped in just a towel.

  Fuck. She obviously has no idea I’m even here. What do I do?

  I wince as she turns around. She gasps when she sees me sitting there on the couch. Her hand shoots up to her chest, but she’s so flustered, she drops the towel. My eyes, as much as I try to drag them away won't cooperate as they roll over her body. Holy shit, she’s even sexier than I imagined.

  “You dropped your towel,” I say, pointing out the obvious.

  God, I’m so hard.

  I quickly stand, thinking I’ll do the chivalrous thing and retrieve the towel for her, but all that does is make me feel dizzy. Not surprising, I guess, considering all my blood has headed straight for my dick. She grabs it herself and wraps it around herself protectively, glaring at me.

  “Oh my God, Ben. What the hell are you doing here?” she gasps. “Are you some kind of voyeur or something? Sneaking up on girls while they shower?” I can see she’s not as mad as she’s making out. I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her. My heart races at what I’m about to do. Once we go there, there’s no going back.

  “What would you like me to be doing?” I murmur, my voice strained. She stares at me for a moment then presses her lips against mine. The towel falls away again, but this time, she doesn't care. My hands roam over her body, touching, stroking her everywhere. I can't get enough of those soft, inviting lips, or her beautiful, pale skin.