Proper Irish (Jaded Lily #1)

by Zeia Jameson

  “Okay. Call me if you need anything. I promise to answer this time.”

  “I will. See you later.”

  “Bye, K. It’s going to be all right. I promise.”

  “Want me to go slash her tires? Break some windows? Put fish roe in her mailbox?” Padraig asks.

  Kerry and I laugh. “Padraig. You are evil! Don’t you dare,” I say.

  “No, please don’t,” Kerry answers. “But thinking about you doing those things makes me happy. A girl can dream.”

  “Suit yourself. And I’m not the evil one. She is. She gets what she deserves.”

  “Padraig MacNamara, if you do something to Rachel, I’m telling your mother!” I threaten.

  “You fight dirty, woman.”

  “I don’t deny that.”

  Kerry says her good-byes and heads home. Padraig sits next to me on the sofa and pulls me into him. He kisses the side of my face. “Did I hear you say something about your schedule being wide open?” I face him and nod with a grin. He grabs the back of my head and kisses me. We migrate back to the bedroom and stay there until midafternoon. We shower, and Padraig leaves to run errands for work. I decide to head out, too, and take care of a few things that I could wait a few days to do. But figure I can go ahead and get them out of the way.

  I try to call Rachel to tell her how idiotic she’s being. But she doesn’t answer any of my calls. I finally leave her a message. I can’t waste too much time on her; I’ve got plenty on my plate with all of the final details of the ball. There are only a few days left, and mostly everything is set. But I’m extra meticulous with this event for two reasons: First, the mayor chose me over Rachel. It all has to be perfect. Second, I have nothing else going on, so I can focus my time completely on this.

  I get a phone call from Phillipe asking about an event he’s supposed to be catering for Rachel in April. He can’t get in touch with her either, and he’s panicking because he needs a finalized menu to make a purchase list.

  I receive another phone call about flower arrangements for a party in two weeks. I tell the florist I’m no longer working that event, and she panics. I tell her not to worry and that I’ll relay her message to Rachel.

  I call Rachel again. No answer. I leave her a message. “Kim, the florist you hired for the Snyder event, called me. She needs arrangement details from you. Phillipe says you aren’t answering his calls either. He needs to make a purchase list for the Rochester reception.” Why am I doing this? Oh yeah, because I care about the people who work with us every day. I grip my phone in frustration. “Answer your fucking phone, Rachel!”

  This day has been relentless. I drag my feet up the stairway to my apartment and see a potted plant sitting on the floor in front of my door. I pick the plant up and go into my apartment. Sitting it on the kitchen bar, I pluck the card from its holder.

  Dearest Aoibhinn. Smells like heaven. Just like you.

  I lean in to take a heavy whiff of the gorgeous green-and-golden flowers. Honeysuckles.

  I put the card in my pocket, grab my keys and bag, and head back out to go to Jaded Lily.

  “Hey, Luca, is Padraig here? I just got off the phone with him, and he said he’d meet me here.”

  Before Luca can answer, Padraig emerges from the back and makes his way to me. “Aoibhinn. Did you get my gift?”

  “I did. They are beautiful and smell wonderful!”

  “Just like you,” he says, leaning down, planting a soft kiss on my lips.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Certainly.”

  I pull out the card and point to the word Aoibhinn. “Pronounce that.”

  He smiles and says the word just as he did a few seconds ago. It’s spelled nothing like it’s pronounced. It’s pronounced with a V as “Ave-een.”

  “Interesting,” I say, looking back at the card. “What does it mean? You’ve called me that a few times.”

  “It’s just an Irish word for beautiful or radiant, both of which describe you.”

  I smile and bring his face to mine. I kiss him, he kisses back. Before I know it, we are pawing at each other’s clothes and running fingers through each other’s hair.

  “Sooo, the studio is empty. I’ll lock up and leave you guys to it,” Luca says.

  Neither of us answers. I hear the bell ring and the lock flip, and only then does Padraig break our connection. His lustful eyes make my heart rush even more. He takes me by the hand and leads me back to his room. He undresses me, slowly, kissing me and making me writhe with each touch of his lips. Once I’m completely stripped, he motions for me to lie on the bed, and I do. I make eye contact with him from my position on the bed, and he slowly begins to strip for me, removing his shirt first. All clothing removed, he stands before me, nude and glorious. I scan my eyes over all of his masterfully drawn ink, which extends all the way down his torso. My eyes continue to travel farther down, and I bite my lip at what’s standing at attention for me. I inhale in anticipation and carry my glance back up to Padraig’s face. I give him a smile, which he returns.

  He straddles me. All of his motions seem slow and deliberate. I feel impatient. I want his lips and his hands on me. I want him inside me now! I reach for him, and he grabs my wrist. He pulls my arm over my head and wraps my fingers around a post on his headboard. He takes my other hand and repeats the action. “Hold on tight. If you let go, I’ll have to tie you up.”

  My eyebrows raise in surprise and curiosity. “Is that so?”

  “It is. So behave.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He kisses me hard on the mouth, his tongue taking everything it wants. Then he moves to my jaw and farther and farther down. Each kiss is a lightning bolt of ecstasy. He kisses my stomach and continues south. He reaches the sweet spot, and I instantly move my hand to his hair. “Oh God, Padraig!”

  He stops and looks up. “You broke the rules.” He moves my arm and wraps my fingers back around the post. His face moves in close to my ear, and he whispers, “This is your last warning.” I nod and whimper involuntarily. He returns down below, this time wrapping both of his strong arms around my thighs and elevating my hips slightly. I feel his tongue on me again, and my body jolts on impact. His motions elevate my breathing into panting. I desperately want to grab his hair. I squeeze the posts of his headboard as tightly as I can. I call out his name once. Twice. His arms tighten their hold around me just before I erupt. My back arches and rises from the bed as he continues. I’m frozen for a moment, suspended in pure, euphoric heaven. I land back on the bed, breathless. My chest is heaving, my legs, shaking. Padraig kisses the inside of one thigh and then the other, biting it gently and letting out a low growl. He looks up at me and smiles. He winks. “Good girl,” he says. I don’t respond for lack of breath. He slowly climbs toward me. He brings his face close to mine and looks into my eyes. I feel his hand touch mine overhead, and I realize I still have death grips on the headboard posts. He squeezes my hand. “You can let go now, love.”

  I nod and let go. He gets up from the bed. “I’ll be right back.” I watch him. He flicks on a light to another room, adjacent to the bedroom, which I hadn’t noticed was there until now. It’s a bathroom. I hear the faucet run for a bit and then turn off. Padraig emerges, opens a dresser drawer, and pulls out a pair of boxer briefs and a T-shirt. He ambles back toward me and tries to hand me the T-shirt. “I have pajamas for you, if you’ll stay with me tonight.” He smiles. I sit up and take the shirt. He begins putting on his briefs.

  “Uh, sure. I’ll stay. But we aren’t done here, mister.”

  He pauses, his underwear only up to his knees. He looks up at me. “Whaddya mean?”

  I put the T-shirt on the desk beside the bed, and I hold my hand out to him. “Underwear, now.”

  He crinkles his brow and shakes his head. “That was just for you. It’s late. I know you have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Don’t give me that ‘that was for you’ bullshit. We are not done. I do have a busy day, but I’ll dec
ide when we are done here, m’kay?”

  Padraig smiles wide and chuckles. He removes his briefs and hands them to me. I place them on top of my T-shirt. I wriggle my finger at him in a “come hither” motion, and he pounces, kissing me. His breath is minty, and his face smells freshly washed. I nudge him so we’re both lying on our sides, and then I move him to his back and straddle him. I move him into me and moan. I’m very appreciative of what he did before, but this is what I was waiting for. I lean down to kiss him, and then I whisper into his ear, “I have no rules about where you can put your hands.” I rise back up and ride, his hands roaming every inch of my body, until we’re both spent and completely satiated.

  I feel the weight of his arm over my abdomen. I smile and flutter my eyes open. I had been dreaming that I was standing on a grassy Irish cliff, overlooking the sea crashing its waves into the shore. The wind was swirling, and the air was crisp and salty. It smelled like Padraig.

  He nuzzles into my neck and kisses it, his whiskers sending shivers down my spine. “Mornin’,” he murmurs, his R rolling heavy. I feel a pleasurable ache within me from that rolling R. I turn to face him and reach my arm around his jaw, stroking his hair. I kiss him, inhaling his intoxicating scent. He pulls my naked body into his, and we have an encore of the previous night’s performance.

  “D’ya want to go get some coffee before your day gets crazy?” Padraig asks as we dress. I look at down at myself. My clothes aren’t too wrinkled but aren’t crisp enough for me to sit in a coffee house.

  “If you’ll do the walk of shame with me to my apartment so I can take a quick shower and change.”

  He kisses me on my cheek. “Shouldn’t call it the walk of shame.” He slides his hands up my arms from elbow to shoulder. “Should be a walk of pride. You are a wild woman, Aoibhinn. You have no idea what you do to me. And not just to what’s in me pants.”

  “Padraig!” I laugh at his bluntness. He takes my hand and places it over his heart.

  “I just mean you’re affecting me here, too. A lot.” I smile, and he places a gentle kiss on my lips.

  “I’ll gladly walk with you.” He kisses my hand. “If you let me join you in the shower.” He winks.

  I push up on my tiptoes and kiss him. “Of course.”

  He grabs a small duffel bag, tosses some clothes and toiletries into it, zips it up, and throws it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, then.”

  The morning is chilly. The steam from the coffee I’m clutching is welcomed. I take a sip and let the liquid warm me. “Don’t know if I’ve known anyone else who drinks coffee black,” Padraig says just before sipping on his own black coffee.

  I shrug. “It’s the way my parents always drank it. Anything else is too sweet.”

  “Aye,” is all he says. Then his eyes widen at something over my shoulder. I turn to see Rachel charging toward our table.

  “You fucking bitch!” she screams. The shop falls silent. All eyes are locked on us. Before I can say anything, Rachel continues. “You have ruined me! My business is falling apart, and it’s all because of you!”

  “I think it’s best you go,” Padraig says, standing up and moving his tall stature in between me and Rachel. She’s unfazed and leans to the left to make eye contact with me again.

  “And I still can’t believe you’re fucking this Neanderthal! You just wait until I tell Victoria! She’ll have your head for sure!”

  Padraig leans the same as Rachel did, again intercepting her sights on me. “Threaten her again. I dare you. You’ll find out quickly just how much of a Neanderthal I can be.” He pauses a brief moment. Rachel remains silent.

  “As I said before”—Padraig’s voice lowers into a grumble. It’s making my heart pound—“I suggest you go. Now.”

  Rachel doesn’t move or speak.

  “Leave,” he growls.

  Rachel leans a little more, long enough to give me a murderous look. Then she spins on her heels and exits the shop. People continue to stare for a beat until Padraig sits back down, grabs his coffee, and sips. “D’ya want a scone?” he asks casually, as if the past five minutes never happened. I smile and nod. Chivalry wasn’t a virtue I thought I admired until now.

  I stopped at the market near my apartment to grab some items for a light dinner. Padraig offered to take me to dinner, but I declined. I want to spend time with him, but I also need a night to myself to wrap my head around this whole Rachel situation. What is going on with her? As I’m paying at the register, I feel my phone vibrate in my bag. So as not to be rude to the cashier, I ignore it until I’m done paying and collecting my canvas grocery bag. Headed on the sidewalk to my apartment, I dig through my purse for my phone. I retrieve it and tap on the screen to listen to the voicemail.

  “You have officially ruined my life! After everything I did for you! How could you do this to me? The mayor’s office called me today. The mayor! His assistant told me that I have been removed from any dealings with the St. Patrick’s Day ball!” Rachel’s voice hitches and turns from anger to a desperate sob. “Why did you do this to me?”

  I feel terrible. I never meant for this to happen. As soon as the message is over, I’m going to fix this.

  “Just you wait.” Her message continues, quickly reverting back to sinister anger. “You are going to fucking pay for this. Mark my words, Stella! I have connections. I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

  Or maybe I won’t try to fix anything. I hang up, standing still on the sidewalk, and immediately dial the mayor’s office. Suzette answers on the second ring. I recognize her voice right away “Mayor MacNamara’s office. This is Suzette Madison, executive assistant to the mayor. How may I help you?”

  “Suzette, hi. This is Stella Rosencourt. I was calling to verify whether Rachel Knight has been removed from the planning of the St. Patrick’s Day ball.”

  “That is correct, Ms. Rosencourt. I called her today to inform her that she is no longer desired to represent this office in any capacity due to her lack of public professionalism.”

  The coffee shop incident.

  “Where does that leave me? I work for Rach—uh, Ms. Knight.”

  “The mayor has requested that you be the primary planner for the event, and you may enlist any help you desire, with the exception of Ms. Knight. You will be compensated the full amount of the bid, and your assistants and vendor partners will be compensated as well. Our legal counsel has prepared paperwork for Ms. Knight, so there will be no legal ramifications for you to concern yourself with.”

  “Okay,” is all I can respond.

  “If you have any other questions or concerns regarding this, you should not hesitate to reach out to me.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Suzette.”

  “You are quite welcome. Good-bye.”

  The phone clicks off before I can offer a return good-bye.

  I think flabbergasted is the appropriate word for how I feel at this very moment.

  I continue on to my apartment. Lost in thought, I vacantly open the street door to my building and climb the steps leading to my front door. As I approach the top step, I imagine Padraig and his scent for some reason. I long for him even though I told him I wanted to be alone. I fumble through my purse for my keys, not paying attention to my surroundings.

  “Aoibhinn.” I hear his low-toned voice, and it causes me to jump.

  “Did I just wish for you to be here and you appeared?” I ask and smile.

  “Aye. Seems that way.” His adorable grin beaming at me. “May I come in?”

  I can’t deny him.

  “Of course.”

  I open the door and place my purse and canvas bag on the countertop of my kitchen.

  “Did you speak to your dad today?”

  A wicked smirk grows on his face. “I did.”

  “Did you mention what happened at the coffee shop?” I ask while removing items from the bag.

  “Aye.”

  “Rachel called me. Left me a message. She threatened to ruin me.”
<
br />   Padraig’s brows furl. He leans close and kisses me on the forehead. “Won’t happen.”

  “I know. But still. Her attitude and actions have really been gnawing away at me. And I also feel bad. I know it’s directly her fault that she’s in this situation, but I hate that it’s come to this.”

  “Maybe she’ll pull her head out of her arse and learn from her mistakes.”

  “Maybe,” I say with doubt. I somehow feel Rachel is going to get way worse before she gets better. If she gets better.

  Padraig extends his arm out to me, and I only then notice he’s holding a canvas bag of his own. The logo of the natural oils shop I frequent is on the front.

  He shops there, too?

  “For you. Now I know why you always smell like southern heaven.”

  I take the bag from him and peek inside. I pull out the contents. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, body mist, lotion, and foot scrub.

  “I bought everything they had in that scent.” He grabs the lotion bottle, clicks it open, and inhales. “Ah. Yep. Just like you.” He leans in to me again and nuzzles my neck, his beard tickling my collarbone area. I giggle. He inhales again. “It smells sweeter on you. Honeysuckle sweet.”

  My insides shiver, and my heart flutters. Jesus, this man is too delectable.

  “Thank you. I know you’ve seen the body wash in my shower, but how did you know where to get it?”

  “Was talking to Kerry the other day before dinner. She told me.”

  Tattletale. For a good cause, though.

  “So you asked Kerry where I shop for soap?”

  “I told her I wanted to stock you up on whatever it is that makes you smell so luscious.”

  Dear God, hearing him say the word luscious makes my thighs clench. I take a deep breath and try not to let on that he is turning me on by buying me toiletries. I place all of the bottles back into the bag and put it aside. I smile and then kiss him lightly.