All It Takes

by Clare Dugmore

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  COMING FALL 2017 FROM CLARE DUGMORE

  COMING APRIL 2017 FROM JANE WATSON

  AVAILABLE NOW FROM JOY PENNY

  ABOUT CLARE DUGMORE

  THANK YOU FOR READING

  © 2016 Clare Dugmore

  http://www.claredugmore.com

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  For information about Subsidiary Rights, Bulk Purchases, Live Events, or any other questions -

  please contact Clare Dugmore at claredugmore@gmail.com

  ISBN: 978-1-946202-16-1 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-1-946202-15-4 (paperback)

  Disclaimer: The content of this novel is not to be shared or distributed with anyone without express permission from the author.

  DEDICATION

  Dedicated to Robin Leigh,

  who was taken from this world way too soon.

  Rest in peace, Beautiful Lady.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Three minutes. In three minutes, I’d know for sure what the future held. You could do many things in three minutes. Boil an egg, make tea and toast, listen to your favourite song, or pay your phone bill online, and yet the seconds ticked down at an agonizingly slow rate.

  I paced the cool blue lino of the bathroom floor.

  I was glad I was in the bathroom, as nerves made me want to pee and throw up all at once.

  Why was time moving so slowly?

  The sound of my alarm going off made me jump, and I dashed to the toilet, where the test was resting on the top of the cistern.

  Two lines. Pregnant.

  Eight weeks previously …

  “Come on, Meg. It’s almost Christmas. If that isn’t cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.” My best friend, Stacey, looked up at me from behind long lashes, her baby blues pleading with me. The puppy dog eyes worked on men without fail, but I’d known her for eleven years. Her charms had no power over me.

  Still, the lure of a night of drinking and dancing couldn’t be ignored. We’d been slaving away at uni for months. We deserved a night out.

  “All right, but let’s not make it a late one, okay? I’ve got work in the morning.”

  “We’ll go to O’Neil’s. There’s a band playing. It’ll be fun.”

  “Oh, no. Not O’Neil’s. That place is a dive.”

  “I like it.” Stacey pouted. Another trick she used to get her own way. I could see why men found it adorable. Ah, if only I could wrap men around my finger as well as my BFF – but I usually got too flustered to be a good flirt.

  “You only want to go there because it’s where all the gym junkies hang out and you’re hoping to snare one.”

  “Have you seen some of the guys that go there? There’s this one, Josh Browne, he’s a cage fighter, and OH.MY.GOD. You should see his body.”

  I laughed and shook my head. I could appreciate a hot body as much as the next girl. Hell, I’d been charmed by a pair of biceps and a few well-placed tattoos in the past. But, right then, men were the last thing on mind.

  Working in a coffee shop wasn’t how I envisioned my life when I moved out of my parents’ and to the city, but it paid the bills. Besides, it was only for six more months. A year tops. When I completed my graphic design degree, I could move onto bigger and better things. I’d saved enough money to take an extended break backpacking across Europe. Then I’d polish my portfolio and start looking for work. I had it all planned out and hoped to have a steady income and buy my first place by the time I was thirty.

  “Okay, we’ll go to O’Neil’s. You can pull a fighter, and everyone will be happy.”

  Stacey grinned. “You know I love ya?”

  “Love you too.”

  Stacey swung her shopping bags over her shoulder. “Okay, be at mine for about nine.”

  “Will do.” I gave her a little wave as she left the coffee shop, and went back to making sandwiches.

  When I arrived at Stacey’s, the thrum of bass coming from her flat told me our night out wasn’t going to be just a few drinks in O’Neil’s and an early night. Girl was about to get her party on. When Stacey answered the door, her outfit confirmed my suspicions. She wore a silver plunge-neck playsuit that left very little to the imagination. It certainly made me feel less apprehensive about my burgundy cowl-neck halter-top, leather look trousers, and wine-coloured high-heels.

  “Come get a drink.” She pulled me into the living room, where she had numerous alcopops and shots ready on the table.

  A bottle of WKD and accompanying shots later, we climbed into a taxi and made our to O’Neil’s. We arrived just as a dark Mercedes with tinted windows pulled up. The small gaggle of people outside the club having a cigarette before entering whipped around to see who the new arrival was, and beside me, Stacey stood on her tiptoes to see above the crowd.

  When the door opened, and a blond guy in a leather jacket climbed out, Stacey grabbed my wrist.

  “Oh my god, it’s him,” she hissed. “Josh Browne.”

  I looked over at Josh, who was entering O’Neil’s with an older guy in his mid-forties. Both wore designer suits. Josh’s blond hair was spiked, and a hint of stubble covered his chin. I had to give it to Stacey, he was cute.

  When the commotion of two local celebrities arriving died down, the O’Neil’s doorman continued to admit non-celebrity patrons, and Stacey and I filed in.

  The normally lively club was positively heaving with activity as a band set up on the main stage and customers milled around.

  Grabbing Stacey’s arm so she’d follow me instead of staring at Josh, I dragged her to the bar and bought the first round. Then, drinks in hand, I found a table close enough to see the band. Knowing she’d kill me otherwise, I took the chair that meant I had my back to Josh’s table, leaving her the one facing in his direction. She grinned, straightened her outfit to make sure an ample amount of cleavage was showing, and sat down.

  When the band started playing, I got swept up in the music, not noticing if Stacey was watching too, or if she was still staring at Josh. Instead, I allowed all the stresses of the week to fade away in a haze of alcohol and guitar riffs. Uni and work were a distant memory. I was glad Stacey convinced me to go out. She was right; it was just what I needed. As I got to the bottom of my alcopop, my body relaxed and a sense of well-being washed over me.

  Stacey went to buy another round, and on her way there, conveniently passed Josh’s table. As she walked beside where he was sitting, she wiggled her hips and winked at him. I had to give her credit; she sure didn’t play around when she wanted something. She returned a few minutes later with two drinks, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Was he looking?” she asked, sliding a bottle over to me.

  “Couldn’t take his eyes off you, Stace.”

  Stacey giggle
d and sipped her drink.

  The band continued, and the club filled up until the small dance floor in front of the stage was cram-packed.

  I’d just finished my drink, and was about to ask Stacey if she wanted another, when her gaze snapped up to a place behind me, and her cheeks flushed. I turned to see Josh walking towards us.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he said to Stacey, virtually ignoring me.

  Not that I minded. I knew this was the moment she’d been waiting for and turned away as Josh whispered something in her ear.

  That’s when I first spotted him.

  He sat at the table Josh had come from, chatting to the older man Josh had arrived with. His short dark hair was shaved at the sides and styled into a faux hawk at the front. But it was his piercing blue eyes that held me transfixed.

  He wore casual black trousers, with polished loafers and a white t-shirt, which made the sleeve of tattoos on both arms stand out in contrast. He seemed keenly aware of his appearance and took pride in looking good. He had a confident air about him. The simple tilt of his head as he spoke, or the way he raised his glass to his lips whenever he took a sip of his drink, oozed self-assurance. It was almost as if he knew he belonged and was challenging those around him to say otherwise.

  Not that I could blame him for his self-confidence. The little I did know about fighters told me that to be the best, you had to be in prime physical condition and at the top of your game. With a chiselled jawline, muscular frame, and cocky smile, he certainly was that.

  During a steamier song, I imagined what it would feel like to run my fingers over that perfect body. What would it be like to feel the taut muscles of his toned chest under my fingertips? What might it be like for him to sweep me off my feet in those strong arms?

  I shook the fantasy from my head and took a swig of my drink, like I hadn’t just been mentally undressing the guy. But not before I’d caught him looking at me from the corner of my eye, a devilish smirk on his face.

  A distraction from my fantasies arrived in the form of Stacey, who had a ‘cat that got the cream’ look on her face.

  “You’ll never guess what’s just happened!”

  “Go on, tell me,” I said, playing along.

  “Josh wants me to meet him when the club closes.”

  “No way! That was quick. You can give me all the details tomorrow.”

  Stacey grinned. “Oh, I will.”

  With the distraction from my thoughts Stacey had offered, I was able to tear my eyes away from him.

  Pull yourself together, Megan.

  Trying to take my own advice, I grabbed Stacey’s hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.

  “But our table…?” she said, before gulping down the rest of her drink.

  “Sod it. We came out to have fun, right? What fun is sitting at a table all night? Let’s dance.”

  Stacey didn’t need asking twice, and when the band started playing a cover of a song she loved, it was like a sign from the universe. Never letting go of her hand, I twirled Stacey around like a ballet dancer before pulling her to me, where she collapsed against me and we both started giggling. Ignoring the fact that we were completely out of sync to the music, Stacey and I continued our bizarre dance of twirling each other around, and shimmying under the other’s extended arm. When the song changed, we started doing the funky chicken-wing dance instead; our left hands on the back of our heads with our arms bent and our right hands holding our right ankles with the legs bent. We looked like complete idiots, but we didn’t care.

  We stayed on the dance floor for the rest of the night, only leaving to visit the bar, all thoughts of the guy I’d seen at Josh Browne’s table forgotten. As the bar called last orders and the band finished their set, I didn’t even notice the guys from the gym leave. All I could think about was getting home and climbing into my warm bed.

  With that thought firmly implanted in my mind, I yawned and went to the loo. I found Stacey outside the toilets, sitting on a battered leather couch, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss.

  “So, you still meeting up with Josh, huh?” I pulled on my coat, and we made our way outside.

  She beamed at me in reply. “Of course. He’s hot, and I’m not turning down an opportunity like this.” She paused and pulled her flimsy jacket tighter around her body. “Bloody hell! It’s colder than Mr Freeze’s balls out here.

  We weaved through the groups of people to find Josh. “Serves you right for not bringing a proper coat.”

  “Well, don’t be a coat hog. Share with me.” Forcing me to unfasten the buttons I’d just done up, I opened the coat, and Stacey snuggled up to me so we were wearing one arm each and staggering down the street like we were in some bizarre sack race.

  “I love you, you know that, right?”

  I laughed. “You always love me when you want something or you’re drunk. Or both!”

  “No, I’m serious. You came out tonight, even though you were unsure-”

  “Oh, yeah. A night of drinking and dancing. Such a sacrifice. You really needed to twist my arm.”

  “Yeah, but we came to O’Neil’s because I wanted to, and you haven’t minded me talking about Josh all night.”

  “I know you’d do the same if the roles were reversed.”

  “Totally. The roles should be reversed. Why weren’t you out there getting invited back to guys’ hotels?”

  “And take the spotlight away from you? You’d never forgive me,” I teased.

  When Stacey spotted Josh, I was given full custody of my coat back. I wished her good luck, and then watched in amusement as she bounded over to meet ‘her guy.’

  From my vantage point a few meters away, I could just make out what they were saying, as Josh told Stacey he had a taxi waiting. She shook her head, and came back to me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Josh wants me to go back with him now, but I told him there was no way I was letting you make your own way home.”

  “Don’t be daft. I’m quite capable of finding my own taxi. Go on, you don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

  “You’re sure? Because I’d rather know you’re safe-”

  “Stacey, I told you, I’ll be fine. Go be with your man.”

  I pushed her forward, and that’s all the incentive Stacey needed. She returned to Josh, and they got into the taxi together. Before the doors were even closed, they started snogging.

  With Stacey gone, I scanned the area for another cab to take me home.

  I hoped, as I was still outside O’Neil’s, one would show up soon. I was wrong. After waiting fifteen minutes, there were still no signs of any vehicles on the road, let alone a taxi. The night air now was now even colder than when Stacey and I had left the club, and I thanked God I’d worn a decent coat.

  After another five minutes of waiting, I decided to call the local taxi company. As I pulled my phone from my handbag, I found the battery was completely flat.

  “God damn it.”

  Then, to make matters worse, it began to rain.

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

  With a sigh, I pulled my coat tighter around my body and resigned myself to the hour’s walk that now faced me.

  My feet aching from wearing heels all night, and the rain was falling more heavily by the second. When I got to the end of the street, I was soaked to the bone. I knew by the time I finally reached home, I’d be sick come morning.

  I checked my phone again, and it blinked into life for an instant before going dead. Shoving it back in my bag, I dug out my purse to see how much money I had in there. All I had left was the crumpled tenner I’d been planning to pay for a taxi with. Doubting I’d get one now, and wanting somewhere to wait out the rain, I went to the chip shop around the corner from O’Neil’s. Maybe kebab meat and chips would warm me up.

  Apparently, everyone who’d been in O’Neil’s had the same idea, and when I entered Tasty Plaice, the queue almost reached the door. I joined the back of the line, glad to be ou
t of the cold and rain.

  I’d almost reached the front of the queue when raucous laughter drew everyone’s attention to the main door, where the guys who’d been with Josh Browne entered – including the one I’d been checking out earlier.

  Just my luck. I cursed inwardly. I’d run into one of the most attractive guys I’d seen in a long time, and I looked like a drowned rat.

  Trying to blend into the background, I turned back to the counter and hoped he wouldn’t notice me. A few seconds later, I was startled when someone flung their arms around my shoulders.

  “Alright, darlin’.” His Irish brogue caused goose bumps to form on the back of my neck, and when I turned to see who it was, I almost choked.

  “Erm, hi. Do I know you?” Of course I knew him. I’d briefly imagined being this close to him. The reality was far better than my fantasy. Up close, his muscles looked huge, and his tattoos were like a work of art lain out on his bare flesh. Still, it didn’t explain why he seemed to know me.

  “Sure. You’re the bird from O’Neil’s. Your friend went home with Brownie.”

  “Josh Browne?” My reply came out as a squeak, and I stared at my shoes to keep from making eye contact with him.

  “Yeah. Josh is my training buddy.”

  “So, you’re a fighter too?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t already figured that out earlier when I’d been daydreaming about him.

  “Kian Murphy, Welterweight Champion, at your service.”

  It was good to finally put a name to the face, and I offered him a shy smile. “Nice to meet you, Kian. I’m Megan.”

  “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” Kian said with a wink, as we reached the counter. Then he turned to the server. “Can I get a doner meat and chips with chilli sauce, and whatever the lady’s having?”

  “I’ll just get a bag of chips, thanks,” I said, pulling the money from my pocket.

  Before I had the chance to hand it to the server, Kian’s hand covered mine.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thanks.” I sheepishly took my chips and made my way over to the only available seat in the room, which was right by the door that didn’t close properly. No wonder no one wanted it.