Straight Up Irish

by Magan Vernon

  “Yeah and guess what? They may have posted visiting hours, but since I’m on the friends and family list, and she was up, they let me and this lady have a party in her room.” The girl moved the phone, and an older woman with deep wrinkles and fluffy white hair filled the screen.

  “Nana. What on earth are you doing up this late?” she exclaimed.

  “Turns out if you sleep all day, you’re up all night. Thank God for basic cable in this place. The old woman laughed, which made her blue eyes sparkle.

  “Maybe we can talk to your nurses about getting you in some activities during the day. Nothing too strenuous, but something so you can keep busy and sleep at night,” Fallon replied, her voice wavering.

  Nana waved her hand. “I don’t want to play bingo or talk about books with a bunch of old ladies. But I am interested in this new fella Leah told me you were dressing up for. She looked up some pictures of him online to show me, and if I was about fifty years younger, I wouldn’t mind letting him put his shoes under my bed.”

  “His shoes can go under your bed, but he’ll be sleeping in mine,” Fallon’s friend Leah said. “Unless he’s still in Fallon’s bed this morning.”

  “Is that Irish fella still in your bed? Is this a bad time?” Nana asked.

  “Uh…” Fallon’s body shifted, a definite tell if I knew anything about poker at all.

  “Fallon Smith, how could you even answer this message if there’s a boy there? You better tell him to put on clothes and say ‘hi’ to your nana at least. Lord knows I could use some excitement,” her voice rose slightly with a humorous tone to it.

  “He just stopped by to bring me tea. He’s a friend,” Fallon replied, saying “friend” a little hesitantly.

  “Then tell your friend to come over here.”

  Fallon sighed and looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. “You can say no,” she whispered.

  I smiled, standing up and making my way to the computer, idly putting one hand on her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder so I could see the screen and share it with her. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Connor. Pleased to meet you.”

  Nana’s eyes lit up, her mouth forming a perfect O. “My, oh my, aren’t you a looker!”

  “Nana,” Fallon warned.

  “And I’m Leah,” Fallon’s friend with the pixie cut appeared on the screen next to her grandmother.

  “Nice to meet you both. Fallon’s told me a lot about you.”

  The old woman blinked. “Well, we haven’t heard crap about you. Are you going to sit and chat with us? Tell us how you plan on courting my granddaughter?”

  “You know, we have to get ready for work. Connor, that is, needs to leave for work, and I have to get ready. But I’ll tell Leah to stop by your place again soon, and I can message you,” Fallon said, trailing on her last words as if she didn’t want them to end.

  “Okay, honey. Don’t be late for work, and I’ll be expecting another chat soon. Maybe with both of you,” Nana said waggling her eyebrows.

  “Bye,” I said, waving at the screen before Fallon closed the message icon then whirled around to face me.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “What? You said it was all right. Now we should probably talk about finding an activity for Nana, or are we going to keep having late night chats with her?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll handle that at some point, but right now I have to figure out how to explain this all to Nana and Leah. Or how to not explain this to them or…”

  She plopped down on the bed with a huff. “Maybe this is all a mistake.”

  I blinked hard, not expecting that answer. “What’s a mistake?”

  She held her hand out. “This. The whole arrangement. Maybe I got too swept up in these grand ideas of a better life and didn’t think about what everyone back home would think.”

  “Your nana’s not going to think any less of you for doing something good for the both of you. Once everything is all over and you move back, you can let her believe in a whirlwind romance that ended badly,” I said calmly.

  She sighed. “Putting on a show at the office and for the board is easy, since I don’t know them personally, but my nana and Leah are a different story.”

  I put one hand under her chin, tipping it up so our eyes met. “This may be an arrangement for the company and us, but I can promise you, I’m being straightforward and not going to screw you over. We’re still going to court. We’re still going to spend time together. Just like anyone would in a relationship. You can tell your nana after the divorce that things didn’t work out between us and that’s why you left Ireland, which is partially the truth. And you already set this up, telling them about dressing up for me. To think, I didn’t get to fully appreciate that little red dress and see it on my floor.”

  Her eyes drifted to the floor, and she pulled back. “As much as I could sit here all day and argue with you on this, I should probably get ready for work. Thanks again for breakfast, and I guess we’ll figure all of this out at some point.”

  She didn’t say another word and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind her, the sound of the lock echoing through the small room.

  I wanted to stay, to continue the conversation and maybe even pick the lock to join her in the shower like my aching dick was begging me to.

  As of this moment, though, we were good on the friendship and our agreement. Letting my dick lead the way only spelled trouble. I couldn’t ease all of her worries about her family, but looking around the small room, I thought the least I could do was what my brother should have done months ago and help her out financially.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked up a phone number, hitting send as I walked out the door of her flat. I knew all too well if I told Fallon what I was doing, she would protest.

  But if she was going to be my wife, she was going to have to get used it.

  Chapter Six

  Fallon

  Connor was cocky, arrogant, and yet passionate about his company. The way Jack spoke of his brother, always painted a picture of a chauvinistic fraternity boy. It was what I thought about the guy I was always calling into meetings.

  While he did have his moments, there was also something endearing about him. I’d never had anyone bring me breakfast out of the blue, and I enjoyed our tit for tat until Nana and Leah called.

  Guilt wrenched my stomach thinking soon I would be lying to my best friend and the closest family member to me.

  At the pub, Connor called it all a “little white lie,” and those didn’t hurt people if it all ended up for the better. And this was a good deal for both of us. A quick marriage, and then Nana and I would be set for life. So what if I found myself getting a little giddy thinking about the dates he promised to take me on?

  After making copies of the quarterly reports, I headed back toward the offices. My breath caught in my throat when I saw Conner sitting on the edge of my desk holding a sticky note that said Dinner and house hunting.

  Trying to push back a smile, I rolled my eyes, adding a little extra snark. The man knew he was charming, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d be like every other girl who fell under his spell only to get her heart broken. “You cannot be serious.”

  He laughed. “Very serious, mo grá. It’s clocking out time, and I booked the real estate agent. Let’s stop at your place then head out for a bite.”

  “Why do you want to go back to my flat? Do you want to talk to Leah or my nana again? They’re both single if you’re into punk girls or older women,” I said, casually standing up and putting my purse over my shoulder.

  He grabbed my elbow and leaned in, his voice low. “If I wanted someone else, you’d know it. Besides, I prefer blondes, no offense to your little pixie-headed friend or Nana.”

  “We didn’t need to get them involved in this,” I whispered, wincing and wishing I could have taken back the words.

  “You were the one who mentioned me to your friend and told me to chat w
ith them. As I see it, having them involved only makes this look real to everyone around us.”

  I glanced around the room, where a few people in cubicles were staring in our direction but darted their eyes elsewhere when I caught them.

  “I need to get home,” I muttered and pulled away from his grasp before turning toward the stairwell, trying to walk as best I could. I should have worn tennis shoes, but my heels made my ass look good in my shift dress, and dammit, I’ll admit that I liked Connor’s little compliments.

  Before I got even ten steps away from my desk, Connor’s long strides had him right next to me, his arm slinking around my waist. “You’re a pain, but you also have a great backside, so I don’t mind you walking away from me as long as I can enjoy the view.”

  My cheeks warmed, and I turned away so he wouldn’t see my red face and give me any more grief.

  “Everyone’s been watching us,” I whispered as we stopped at the top of the stairs.

  “Do you want me to tell them not to? I may not be at my brother’s desk, but soon I will be CFO, even if right now I am just running the American territories from here. That should mean something to them,” he said.

  “What’s that going to do? Making a scene and yelling at a bunch of people in cubicles isn’t going to help anything,” I said pointedly.

  He nodded. “You’re right. This is still a business relationship. Though, if we are going to convince people we’re dating, there needs to be at least a little bit of PDA, whether it’s telling your friends I was there this morning or holding hands at work.”

  “I guess a little hand-holding couldn’t hurt, if it gets you to stop talking,” I muttered before taking his outstretched hand.

  An electric chill coursed through me as I gripped his hand. I didn’t know if he felt it or not, but if I was going to get this excited from a bit of hand-holding, then I was in for a lot of trouble with this fake relationship.

  …

  The entire way to my place, Connor grinned like a schoolboy who just put thumbtacks on the teacher’s desk.

  I figured he was proud of himself for getting me to agree to hold his hand, and for causing whispers from some of the women in accounting.

  When we reached my apartment, and got to the top of the stairs, there were strange men opening my door at the end of the hallway. Did I have a leak or something? Shit. I hoped my computer was okay. That was the only thing I owned that was worth anything.

  “Mr. Murphy?” one of the men asked with a thick accent.

  “Yes, sir,” Connor said, stepping forward.

  “Sign here, please.”

  Connor took a clipboard from the man, signing it before handing it back to him. “Everything set up as I asked?”

  The man nodded. “Yeah.”

  “What the hell did you do?” I questioned, staring from the men in overalls to Connor before pushing past them and opening the door to my apartment.

  I gasped. What was once an empty shell of floor-to-ceiling white was now transformed into a cozy escape.

  The former blank walls were covered in black and white photographs of different places around Ireland. I took small steps through the little kitchen until my heels hit the soft chevron rug that lay in front of a plush loveseat with chaise lounge attached. The sad, lonely window covered by a towel was now a cheery window with a small wooden counter with two yellow metal stools in front of it. Two cups and a canister of tea sat atop the table as if just waiting for me and Connor to sit there for a morning or afternoon cup.

  There was a hutch with a flat screen TV mounted above it and little trinkets on the ornate piece. Past that was a curtained off area. The gray and white curtains pulled back on one side to reveal a brand new full-size bed with a warm yellow comforter and a secretary desk holding my laptop and complete with an executive chair in front of it.

  “I thought you might want some privacy for your video messages. I wanted you to be comfortable while you’re here. At least, until we can close on a new place,” Connor’s words were soft as he leaned in closer.

  He was about six inches taller than me, but his stature made him seem like he was much bigger. It had been a long time since I’d felt safe with anyone. But I did with him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and take in his scent, though I wasn’t even sure if the cedar and leather smell was cologne or just him.

  If I could bottle up the smell and sell it, I’d be a millionaire. Which I would also be if I agreed to marry him. Something I was finding myself having trouble saying no to.

  “Why…why did you do all of this?” I whispered, turning toward him.

  He smiled. No hesitation. No question. Just complete confidence. “Because no girl of mine should live without a proper bed or table. You deserve all of this and more.”

  “But why? It’s too much. I was fine with just the bed.” I had to choke back tears threatening to escape. It didn’t make sense why he cared so much when this was just a fake marriage.

  No one had ever done anything this nice for me. Ray and I barely exchanged gifts for holidays. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last Christmas or birthday gift he gave me. Not that things like that mattered, but it would have been nice to be acknowledged once in a while.

  Connor took a step forward, the toes of his leather shoes against mine. Lifting his hand, he pressed his palm to my cheek and swiped his thumb under my eye. “Because you deserve it. You came to Ireland for something. You can say it was for a job or money or whatever, but you shouldn’t have to sit in a sad, unfurnished apartment all night. No one should. Especially not someone as sweet and beautiful as you. Your American boyfriend was crazy for letting you go.”

  His words were a whisper on my lips. If either of us leaned forward, our mouths would meet. Just one little movement and we’d break that wall I wanted to shatter.

  The words and music to “Whiskey in the Jar” blared seemingly from out of nowhere, causing me to gasp and step back, knocking me out of my moment with Connor.

  He pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. “Sorry about that. Real Estate agent calling,” he muttered, putting the phone to his ear.

  They exchanged a few words, then he said goodbye.

  “She’s waiting for us outside.”

  “Thank you, again, for this,” I said. “I feel like it’s all too much, but I’m grateful.”

  “As I said, you deserve a decent place to live. At the very least, my brother should have made sure the place was furnished. You ready?” he asked, holding his hand out to me.

  I smiled, the warmth from his touch and kindness still radiating through me. I took his hand and intertwined our fingers. “Yes.”

  Chapter Seven

  Connor

  Fallon Smith was going to be the death of me.

  I said hand-holding was to convince people we were a couple, but I couldn’t deny the electricity of her touches. Her genuine gratitude and misty eyes over seeing the flat made my heart do somersaults, something no girl had ever done before.

  As we sat in the back of the real estate agent’s sedan, Fallon’s hand stayed on mine. She would give my fingers a little squeeze or her knuckles would graze my thigh causing me to go rigid. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to the “no sex with anyone” rule. Unless I broke that rule with her.

  “Mr. Murphy, the first place we’re going to is up here on the left,” Fiona O’Hara, our real estate agent, said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  She pulled to a stop in front of a row of brick homes before getting out of the car.

  I let go of Fallon’s hand to jog around to the other side and open her door then offer my hand.

  “Such a gentleman,” she said in a mocking tone, but she smiled and slightly blushed. She deserved someone who treated her right. This might be a marriage of convenience and one for money, but damn if I was going to treat her like shite because of it.

  “Now, as you can see,” Fiona started, her sensible shoes barely making a sound as she went up the cement steps and unloc
ked the door. “This home features an elegant red brick exterior and has been completely remodeled on the inside.”

  We followed Fiona into a small foyer with marble tile and to a formal living and dining room with a granite fireplace. Then to an all-white kitchen that opened to a small courtyard and garden.

  While Fiona went on and on about the upgrades, Fallon stayed silent. Finally, I leaned over and whispered, “Not your style?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. It reminds me of all of the townhouses that look the same in Chicago.”

  She was right about that. Not that I lived in Chicago, but there was nothing special about it.

  “What kind of place would you prefer?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Does it matter what I want? It’s your place.”

  I turned toward her, not caring what Fiona was droning on about. Putting my hand under Fallon’s chin, I forced her eyes to mine. “It’s going to be our place.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “But…the furniture… You did all of that work to the apartment. It had to cost a lot.”

  “Money isn’t the object here. We can move it all wherever our new house is if you want. Or we can leave it for whoever moves into the apartment next. We’ll get enough room so your American friends or family can visit. You can have your own space or office or whatever you want.”

  “Nana can’t travel, and my parents would never visit,” she muttered, her eyes flitting to the ground.

  I took my other hand and put it on her cheek, almost wishing I didn’t, but I couldn’t resist making a connection. “You deserve all of the happiness and things you desire. A girl like you deserves the world and more.”

  Before she could say anything, Fiona let out a throat-clearing huff, and I turned toward the petite woman. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Murphy, but I just got an alert that someone has put an offer on this place. Would you want to counter?”

  “No. Why don’t you show Fallon some of the places you wanted to take us to see and let her pick out the next one?”

  “Oh…I didn’t know your…um…” Fiona stammered.