by Diana Downey
He looks all innocent. “What kind of man do yer take me for? I saw yer flirting with the big man in the bar. Who the hell is he? He then made out with your sister and then another woman.”
He must be talking about Shane. Is Aedan jealous? “Shane’s my sister’s boyfriend,” I quickly explain. “And the other woman is a long story.”
“I’d like to hear that someday.” He waggles his brows. “Well, maybe a kiss another time. Wouldn’t want to get yer in trouble.”
The contract. No messing with the hired help. “That’s true. Your loss.” I try to remember a bad Irish term, and it comes to me. “Wanker.”
I turn away from him and before I take one step, Aedan grasps my arm and spins me back toward him and into his arms.
“Not so fast, wee little lassie.”
When his blue eyes peer into me, my knees buckle and he catches me before I fall. Could I be anymore spastic?
“A little shaky there, lassie, Yer are going to get me fired. If I can’t remember the kiss, yer going to have to remind me.”
Before I can protest, his lips descend to mine. I close my eyes and revel in the softness of his super sexy, on-fire lips. This kiss is even better than the drunk one. His tongue dips into my mouth, and I let out a soft moan and melt into his arms. He tastes of beer and cinnamon. My body doesn’t even object. It would let him defile me in the parking lot, and I scold myself for not being sensible.
“I’m beginning to recall that first kiss. It’s coming back to me now. A little longer and it’ll come back to me.” The kiss deepens and it singes every hair on my body, awakening what has lain dormant for so long.
No guy has ever kissed me like that. When he lets me up for air, I almost faint. I will compare every kiss to this one.
“Yer know why this is wrong?”
“No.” It feels too right.
A rakish grin twists his very kissable lips. “We could get in trouble, which makes this all the more fun,” he says.
Chapter Aedan
Even if I hadn’t been two sheets to the wind, I could never forget that kiss in the graveyard, but it’s good to keep the wee lass guessing. Willa is a wee bit young for me, but I cannot dismiss last night’s kiss. Sometimes, a lass gets in me head, and I can’t get her out. Not sure how long this reality show will last, and I don’t know how long I can go before stealing another kiss.
Today we film at a shooting range. I took the job at the local studio to support my sister until she gets through college. As soon as Ma died, Caitlin headed off to the States to be with Da. That didn’t work out at all. He told her to fuck off and then the tears started falling over the phone. Me, being the good brother and all, had to come and save her. The damn bastard died before I even got one good blow to his worthless mug.
The crew hasn’t arrived, which means I get time with Willa. Ah, the luck of the Irish.
The ladies get out of their cars, and my gaze glues on Willa. Like her sister Cyn, she’s tall and willowy with curves in all the right places. She has the dark eyes and mile-long legs a man can get drunk on. The first time I saw her through blurry, bloodshot eyes I thought I’d die and the Lord sent me an angel. No woman has ever grabbed hold of my heart like that. It happened in a flash, and I can’t let the feeling go. Kissing her is like drinking a glass of good Irish whiskey. It pools in my gut, relaxes me, and warms me up.
I immediately go to help them carry their gear. Mine’s inside already setup. Spending time with this young lass is all I can think about.
A car with the windows rolled down and guys hanging out slowly drives by.
Willa stumbles backward into my arms; almost dropping her gym bag I assume is for toting guns. She trembles in my arms, and I don’t understand why.
Regardless, it is my lucky day. “Been drinking, wee lass? Or did yer miss me?”
The light whiff of citrusy fragrance enters my nose, and her soft breast rests on my arm. I am in heaven. I bet I could sneak in a kiss now.
“No,” she says. “Maybe.”
Cyn hustles over to the car, which surprises me because the men in it look rough—heavily tattooed and muscled and thick ropes of gold around their necks and wrists.
One hand is in her purse and the other holds a rifle bag or that could be an assault weapon. This woman doesn’t mess around. “What the hell do you want, Espinoza?” she barks at the brown-skinned man.
“Juarez wants to talk to you,” the hooligan says.
“Why?” Cyn demands, leaning her hand on the hood.
“Senorita, he doesn’t tell me shit.”
I push Willa toward the entrance and then walk over to Cyn to see if she needs any help. I look into the car over her shoulder. These men carry guns, big guns, and it makes me nervous. In Ireland, even the police are unarmed. The States are very different from what I’m used to.
“Everything all right, Miss Diaz?” Not that I could do anything against these men, other than get their license plate.
“He needs to leave,” the man orders, looking right at me with deadly intent.
Cyn reaches for the man’s shirt, grabs it, and slams his forehead against the roof of the car. She’s quite the feisty one.
“Fuck,” he cries, holding his forehead.
The other men reach for their guns, and Espinoza gestures for them to stand down.
“Tell your boss I will meet him in a public place during the day. Text me.” She calmly walks away and whispers to me, “Please stay out of this, Aedan. You could’ve been hurt.”
Cyn and Willa are tough women, and I like that, but hell, whatever they’re into could get them killed. “And what about you?”
“They’re relatives.”
That surprises me. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Carrying her gear, I open the door for Cyn and follow her in. I find her confrontation with the hooligans quite unsettling and worry how it affects Willa.
“This is not my concern, but is there something I can do?” Well that was a git move. What could I do? Both Willa and Cyn are armed up to their gills.
Cyn gives me a tight smile. “Thank you, but I need to handle this.”
Willa comes over. “What did they say?”
“We’ll discuss this later,” Cyn says.
I get the distinct impression they won’t. Cyn is like a mama cat when it comes to Willa, but those men look dangerous. How can she protect Willa?
“Would you like a soda?” I ask Willa.
I could buy a gun, even though I know nothing about them.
I pull out a seat for her because I want to touch her. I’d like to kiss those blossoming lips that are a deep shade of plum.
“So why did you come here?” Willa asks. “How did your mom meet Dallas?”
“He worked out of Ireland, and he used to live with us. I was eight when he left and Caitlin was five. Me ma died, and Caitlin thought Da would want us. He acted like he’d never met her. It crushed her. When he died, she thought maybe then he’d recognize her in his will. He didn’t, and it devastated her.”
The way her ebony eyes bore into me sends a flurry of nervousness into my gut. I’ve had my fair share of bonnie lasses but never a raven-haired beauty like Willa. She’s looks like a demon temptress but is honeyed, like sweet cake. She’ll probably give me a sugar rush or a cavity.
“I came here to help Caitlin with college and get her through Dallas’s rejection. He’s an evil son-of-a-bitch. She’s contesting his will for back child support. He never gave Ma a bloody pence after he left.”
Her smile works into me, and my blood rushes to my cock. With it doing all the thinking, I’m guaranteed to make poor decisions.
“Do you like working for the studio?” she asks, those beautiful eyes peering into mine.
Sweat breaks out on my brow. What has this woman done to me? “I’d rather be doing documentaries. Before our da died, I’d raised enough funds to film the secrets of the Scottish Isles.”
Her thick dark lashes flutter, and my
heart picks up its pace. I think this girl has put a spell on me, like the ole wives’ tales of the Druid priestesses.
Her smile settles into my chest, setting it on fire. “That sounds romantic. Is that what you studied at the university?”
“Yes.” I need to change the subject before I embarrass myself with my expanding woody. “What do you plan to study next year?”
Disappointment crinkles that olive-skinned brow. Yer’d think she’d be happy I enquired about her through work. I’d learned she’s still in high school—a wee bit young but at eighteen, it’s workable. “Actually film.”
“Yer flirting with me. If yer messing with me head, I may have to kiss yer again.” I can’t help that I’m constantly thinking about those plump, delightfully tasty lips.
She blushes.
“Cat got yer tongue?” I ask teasingly, and her face blossoms into a deeper shade of crimson. It’s a good look on her.
Cyn is watching out the window of the place. “Time to get to work.” She gives me a sour look, which tells me she doesn’t approve. She must think I’m too old for her. I have four or five years on Willa, not too much. I recently turned twenty-three.
They also could lose their contract, and I’d hate to be the cause of that, but I have a hard time ignoring Willa. She’s too pretty, too tempting, and too sweet. I can’t explain how much I like her, and I hate those wankers hitting on her. I could’ve killed Travis yesterday. I’ve done a bit of boxing in my day and could’ve put him to sleep easily.
I finish adjusting my rig for today’s filming while the shooting range manager comes out to explain to the ladies the rules and what they’ll do.
Cyn has on jeans and more sensible shoes today while Fay strolls into the gun club in a dress. How does she expect to shoot in skyscraper heels? She’s holding a bag that weighs down her arm so that she’s dragging it on the concrete.
“What did you bring?” Cyn asks, opening Fay’s bag.
“Most of my dad’s guns,” Fay says. “I wasn’t sure which one I should shoot.” Her eyes go crazy with confusion.
“Don’t get any out, and I’ll help you,” Cyn says.
Fay looks uncertain. “Are you sure?”
Fay is completely different from her two sisters, fair-skinned and blue-eyed while Cyn and Willa have a strong vein of Latin coursing through their blood. I’d read about their troubles in the paper, losing their ma and their da going to jail.
I pick up Willa’s bag to take it down to a slot for her to shoot inside. This place has an outdoor range too, but the ladies will start indoors.
“Thank you,” she says, and her smile creeps under my tongue that would like to wrap around hers and dance a little jig.
A woman working gun sales hands each of the cameramen earmuffs, so I thank her. That’s when six cowboys straggle into the range. Three for Willa, which I don’t like and the other three are for Fay, though she and Tanner gave each other the glad eye.
Shane shows up with high tech gear. He’s a serious gun owner. Cyn shrugs him off and gives him a dirty look. Kissing that blonde at the bar has lit a fire under her arse.
I don’t know what’s going on between them, but he wasn’t chasing the blonde away. I may have been a son-of-a-bitch in my younger days, but I’ve never cheated on or had a lass on the side.
Shane wraps his arms around her, and it’s useless for her to fight him. He’s a big, powerful guy. I feel like a dwarf next to him, and I’m six-one.
“You know I can’t do anything about her,” Shane says.
Fire shoots from those dark eyes. She stabs a long manicured finger at him. “You kiss her again, and we’re done. I don’t care what the suits say.”
What the hell is she talking about? Who would tell him to date another woman and why would he listen when he has the woman he obviously loves?
“Do you want me to go to prison?” he defends, bumping up my curiosity.
Cyn shoves him with both palms this time. Well, she tries to. “Not if it means you playing tonsil hockey with that bitch.”
She doesn’t take any shit from him, and I have to laugh. That’s for sure. Willa is sweeter, not as much confidence, yet the girl is smart. I read her bio at the studio.
I don’t record any of Cyn’s and Shane’s conversation because it doesn’t seem right. Does it have anything to do with the hooligans harassing Cyn?
Cowboys are supposed to help these girls shoot, but I get the impression Cyn and Willa know exactly what they’re doing. Fay may have some trouble though. Travis and Lynch stand behind Willa, eyeing her arse like it’s edible, but that should belong to me.
Willa presses a few buttons to bring the target forward on the track. She clips on a new target sheet and pushes it back the maximum length of 25 yards.
She gives Travis a wary look. He steps up first to show her how it’s done. He’s the arsehole drunk from last night. She should tell him to take a hike. When he goes for her gun, she pushes him back, loads a clip, chambers the first round, and unloads. She can shoot. It must go with the hooligans. Their dad is in jail for selling drugs. If my cock lets me, I may have to reconsider pursuing her.
Anger engrains into Travis’s clenched jaw and flames his face. Losing his temper around loaded guns isn’t good, and I’ll make sure his bad judgment doesn’t happen here.
I stop recording. “Travis, relax the cracks, amigo.”
He gives me a strange look, so I add, “Chill.”
The director doesn’t like me interfering because conflict is good, but I don’t want Willa to be caught in the middle, especially considering the loaded firearms.
She brings the target back that’s riddled with bullet holes in the center. “See if you can top that.” She shouldn’t encourage this arsehole. She may be a better shot, but I’ve seen a few blokes in the States, including me da, who don’t have a problem hitting a woman. If that happens, I’ll have to step in and beat the arse senseless.
Travis fumes and balls his fist. His hand unclenches and reaches for Willa. No, you don’t.
Wyatt, one of the other cowboys, shoots out of his seat. He doesn’t reach her first. I do. I throw Travis into the concrete wall behind us, his head hitting with a terrifying thud.
“Willa doesn’t choose you,” I growl. “Yer don’t get a rose. Get the fuck out of here, and if I see yer near her again, yer’ll eat your balls for breakfast,” I say only to him.
I take his gun from his bag, unload it, and pocket his bullets. Without giving it back, I shove him to the front. Shane takes up my rear, and I’m glad. He looks like he could tackle a fucking bear.
The director yells, “What’s going on? Aedan, you need to stay out of this.”
The range manager comes out and yells at Travis, “You can’t harass the other gunmen. Don’t come back in here again. You’re banned from here. Do you understand?” Using his phone, he takes a photo of Travis. “If you come here again, I’ll press charges.”
While the bouncer escorts Travis out, the manager turns on the director. “We can’t have people in here losing their temper. Do you get me? No more incidents.”
I catch up to Travis. Keeping the bullets, I stuff the gun back in his bag and shove it into his hands. “I don’t want to see yer again.”
He grumbles out some obscenity before clearing the door.
Shane leans over the guy and picks him up by his shirt. “He’s being nice to you. If I see you again near Willa, I’ll snap your neck in two.”
Under Shane’s shadow, Travis visibly shakes.
We step back into the firing range where Cyn teaches Fay to load a revolver. It’s an older 38 special.
“Be careful,” Cyn says to Fay. “The revolver doesn’t have a safety.”
Fay almost drops the gun, and Cyn clutches her chest like she’s having a heart attack. I’m glad I’m not teaching Fay. My experience with guns is limited. I hunted as a wee lad but that’s mainly it. I’ve never shot an assault rifle like what some of them have.
Tanner ambles over to Fay. “I can take it from here.”
“Are you sure?” Cyn says, concern washing over her expression.
He’s the same cowboy who helped Fay up after she fell off the mechanical bull. She grins big at him, so she must’ve dressed for him.
“You look nice, but why don’t you take off your heels?” Tanner says patiently. “It’ll be easier.”
Utter joy sparkles in her eyes. She nods and steps out of her shoes.
She shakily puts the bullets into the revolver. “Is this right?”
“Keep your finger off the trigger,” he says. “Never put your finger there until you’re ready to shoot.”
She clumsily handles the gun, almost dropping it again, but this time it’s loaded. Tanner has the patience of a saint.
Her other two cowboys pick a slot and start practicing.
While another cameraman takes over inside, I go outside to film Cyn and my personal favorite, Willa. She looks good in a tight pair of cutoffs and a tee that molds to her young firm breasts.
I have a job to do, but me naughty cock has other ideas.
Handling the assault weapon, Cyn annihilates the target pinned to the bales of hay. From her narrowed eyes, she seems like she’s taking her frustration out on the outdoor firing range. She’s deadly with the rifle.
Shane pulls out a high power rifle with a scope. He grins at her, rapid firing the rifle. They’re both excellent shots, and I wonder what the hell they’re practicing for.
Willa, Wyatt, and Lynch have setup targets and are betting five dollars a round. Willa is winning and Wyatt and Lynch don’t seem to mind, but I do. I don’t like her flirting with them, and I don’t like that those hooligans could hurt her.
The director is happy though. We get great footage, but all I can think about is how I want to be the one wagering and standing close to Willa instead of these gits. I wouldn’t bet for money though. It would definitely be for kisses.
Watching Wyatt put his hands on Willa, I film the rest of the day, the ugly fire-breathing dragon of jealousy wrestling with my insides and white-knuckling my fists on my camera.
We work until lunchtime and the bachelors leave, except Tanner. Cyn is busy arguing with Shane, so I seize my opportunity.