by Jax Cassidy
She cocked her head up at him. “You don’t live above the bar?”
He beamed, “What makes you think I live there? Do I look like a bar rat?”
“A what?” She gave him a wide grin.
“Forget it.” He rolled his eyes and proceeded to unlock the door, pulled the handle and held it open for her. “Get in the car woman!” he commanded playfully.
“I would thank you for the chivalry but I am not fully convinced.”
He smacked his forehead, “What am I gettin’ meself into?”
“Apparently, more than you can handle.” She laughed as she scurried into the passenger seat.
Only three times in Flynn’s life had she found herself speechless. This was one of them. She leaned against the wooden fence, lost in the lush, verdant, rolling landscape. Her eyes followed a herd of sheep ambling their way across the land, with their thick puffs of wool that resembled clouds softly floating by. She’d never find this sight in the States and it was endearing to compare the differences of loud city life to wide-open spaces. She would give anything to be so carefree, to move happily onward to her destination on her own terms.
Patrick walked over to her from the dirt road. His smile was as adorable as the sheep. “I’m sure you’re a mite chilled. Let’s get back to the house for something hot. I’ve even stoked the fires for you.”
She sniffed as she spoke, “Sounds lovely. Another attempt at chivalry?” She was trying to fight back the runny nose caused by the wind and cold.
“Chivalry is a lifestyle, not an act,” he shot back. Patrick grabbed her hands, rubbing on them until they warmed. They held hands on the short trek back to his quaint cottage that sat on the edge of the lake, surrounded by a quiet picturesque beauty.
She blew out a stream of air, amazed at how cold Ireland was compared to sunny California. Her nose and cheeks burned from staying outside so long. The heat from the fireplace assaulted her as soon as she passed the threshold. Patrick shut the door and veered right for the kitchen. She pulled off the thick woolen jacket and hung it on a nearby coat rack.
“Have a seat in front of the fire. I’ll be right out with something strong to take off the chill,” Patrick ordered from the kitchen.
“Will do.” She walked over to the fireplace and pulled off her boots and socks, her toes warming instantly from the heat. The flames crackled and sparked against the wooden logs and an idea shaped in her head.
Flynn couldn’t believe what she was about to do. She stifled a giggle as she started to strip. Yanking, pulling, unbuttoning as she eyed the kitchen. The layers of clothing seemed like an endless chore as she threw each piece on the ground. Her heart raced at the thought of being caught in the act before she was completely naked.
She was smoothing down her untamed hair when Patrick walked in. He tripped on his own feet, almost losing balance of the steaming mugs in his hands. “Bloody hell, I don’t suppose I’d be able to top that one.”
Patrick didn’t hesitate as he placed the mugs on a nearby shelf before making a beeline for her. Impatient to touch him, Flynn’s hands flew to the buttons on his plaid shirt and deftly relieved him of it. Within seconds he was naked and sprawled on top of her against the plush rug.
He held her tight, stroking her hair, her face, trailing his hand down her throat. His expression grew serious as he stared down at her. “Why me? Out of all the men in Co Down, you had to walk into my bar—my life. Problem is, I’ve taken a likin’ to you.”
She placed her hand over his. “Please. You know I can’t stay.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She dropped her hand and turned her head toward the blazing fire. “It’s complicated.”
He rolled to his side, propping his arm under her head, the other around her waist. “Tell me then.”
Flynn let out an exasperated breath and rolled back to meet his gaze. “After almost nine years of singing at open mics and underground clubs, I finally did it. I was offered a music contract last week. Two days before my flight out here. Two days! All my hard work and dreams would be answered, but...”
“But what? Sounds just like what you’ve been wanting.”
“Here’s the complicated part. Not long ago I was contacted by a relative I never knew existed. Both my parents are gone and I don’t think they ever mentioned any living relatives. They’re here in Ireland and they want me to move in with them. They want me to stay here.”
He nodded in understanding. “Well, I see the dilemma. What about taking the contract and flying back when during breaks?”
She shook her head. “Too simple. Basically, the contract states that I’ll be stuck working on the first album and once it’s finished there will be promotions, events, gigs...the works.” She let out a sigh, “Here’s the problem. My newfound ‘relative’ gave me an ultimatum. She needs me here. Since I’m the last and only living relative she’s located, if I don’t agree to stay and help them with the family business, she will be forced to give up everything when she’s gone.
He gave her an incredulous look. “How can that be fair? If you’re the only surviving relative, don’t you think she’d cut you some slack?”
“You’d think.” She paused thoughtfully, “In her defense, she’s in her late 70s, widowed with no children and the clock’s ticking for her.”
Patrick kissed her eyebrow. “Ah, it’s indeed a grand dilemma. You’re her last great hope,” he breathed.
Flynn closed her eyes, the weight of her decision bearing down on her chest like a concrete slab until Patrick pressed his lips against hers, melting all the uncertainties. She kissed him back, running her tongue along his throat, moving back to recapture his lips.
He tore his mouth away from hers and displayed a devilish grin. “Enough chattering. It’s time for the important stuff...a chivalrous man never goes back on his word.”
She gasped when he snaked his way down her body, taking his time to kiss every inch of flesh he encountered along the way until he stopped short of her belly button. He inspected her piercing with keen interest. “Diamond studded. You do have exquisite taste, luv!”
She laughed as he played with the steel post, his finger stroking the jeweled ball. He let out a sigh, kissed her stomach, and slid down between her parted thighs. All laughter subsided when he buried his head between her legs, his mouth covering her mound. She squirmed as he feasted on her delicate flesh, running his tongue along her soft folds, taking his time learning all the ways to make her go wild.
His attentions were as meticulous as his personality, his gentleness pure torture for her. With every lick and nip she was losing control, loving the warmth of his mouth, loving the way he enjoyed making her feel good. She couldn’t breathe and all she could do was give into the pleasures he was drawing from her.
He flicked his tongue across the hardened nub and she bucked beneath the sensation. She couldn’t stifle the moans and the more he teased her, the louder her moans escalated. She could feel his enjoyment as he used his fingers to accompany his mouth, winding her up so tight that she wanted to burst from the pressure. She was climbing to the precipice of orgasm, even higher still, and when he gently sucked on her, she came hard and fast. Her body jerked as an incredible rush, akin to skydiving at thirteen thousand feet for the very first time, filling her limbs with a blissful yet sedated effect.
Patrick slid up her body and seized her lips, kissing her with a hunger that seemed insatiable. He left her gasping for air as she met his actions with the same intensity. Flynn had never been with a man who sought to understand her, everything from her mind to her body, even her soul. Knowing all this about him made their time together more intimate and unforgettable.
God, she loved his caresses, the way he made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. The only woman he had set his eyes on. What she loved the most about being with Patrick was her ability to talk to him as if they were equals. Even their lighthearted bantering and his self-deprecating humor pointed to
a very confident man.
She dug her fingers in his soft dark curls, enjoying the feel of his hair. These little moments would be etched in her mind forever.
His expression turned serious as he looked down at her. “Stay with me.” His voice sounded raw, emotional.
She stopped in mid-stroke. “What do you mean?” Her pulse quickened as she waited for his response.
“Stay with me tonight. It’s me day off and I’ll have you back tomorrow. Back to reality where you can make that life altering decision.”
She started to protest, “I can’t—“
He cut her off before she could finish, “Just one more day. One more day, luv.” He gushed, “I want one more day with you so when you hop back on that plane there’ll be no regrets.”
Flynn chewed on her lower lip as she thought over his words. She should get back but the idea of spending one more day with him shook apart her well-thought out plans.
She nodded in agreement. “I suppose one more day won’t hurt.”
Flynn waited downstairs at the bar while Patrick ran up to his office to grab a few things. Her body was sore and aching from spending most of the day indoors, talking about everything from family, music, trips to movies. Mostly, they made love until they were exhausted and spent. Patrick had snuck away when she had dozed off to draw them a bath, complete with candles flickering intimately.
She was surprised at how much she opened up to him, telling him all about her estranged relationship with her father and the sorrow of losing her mother at a young age. The words rolled out easily for her, especially when she had always safeguarded her emotions for fear of being judged. With Patrick, she found solace in knowing he saw the good in her even when she didn’t.
In fact, he shared pieces of himself by divulging painful tidbits about his humble upbringing, and his desire to escape the ridicule of growing up in a lower class. The more he opened up, the more she grasped a better understanding of Patrick, the man. She even discovered they shared a common tragedy: losing both their parents too young.
Meeting Patrick had been a gift and no matter how her story ended, she would never regret being with him. Flynn flipped on a smile upon seeing Colin walking in from the kitchen with a broom in hand. His lanky build, boyish good looks, and mussed up sandy blond hair reminded her of the young up-and-coming musicians who opened her shows.
In her business, Flynn had a knack for picking out other artists from a crowd. Colin not only acted, but also looked the part with his faded gray t-shirt, wide skull buckle attached to the leather belt that held up his blue jeans, a lengthy chain from belt loop that connected to his wallet. Rounding off the ensemble was thick cuffs rolled up at his ankles to give him a retro rocker appearance. James Dean meets the 80s punk movement, not uncommon among artists in Europe.
Colin halted in mid-step when he spotted her. “Fancy seeing you here, Miss. We normally don’t open ‘til seven on Sunday nights.” He gave her a crooked smile. “The church crowd lets out by then and the men-folk can finally hit the pints,” he snorted.
She could feel her cheeks burn as she stammered, “I—I’m actually. Well, you see, Patrick’s upstairs in the office.”
His eyes lit up in understanding. “Aaah. Er, Patrick could use a wee break. He practically lives here on his off days, so I’m glad to be seein’ him with company.”
“Ummm, I’m happy to help out.” Her eyes dropped to the bar counter, she couldn’t seem to look him in the eye without being embarrassed.
Colin fidgeted with the broom then straightened up to tackle his cleaning. “Well, I should get back to me duties,” he said awkwardly before he walked behind the bar to sweep. His head popped up and he asked, “Hey, mind if I crank up some tunes while I do me chores?”
Flynn glanced up at him and smiled to break the tension. “No, not at all.”
She hadn’t expected that when he said ‘crank’, he meant she would lose half her hearing with the blaring music. After a few minutes she adjusted and enjoyed the melodic sounds of an indie rock band piping through. She couldn’t resist tapping her fingers to the song and quickly picking up the lyrics. She closed her eyes, enjoying the live acoustics, even if the recording needed to be a sharper and without the added background noise.
“This is great!” she exclaimed.
“What?” Colin shook his head and tapped his ear. “What’d you say?”
She mouthed, “I said, this is great! Where’d you get this music fro—“ she practically yelled just as he turned the volume dial down.
He grinned from ear-to-ear. “You kidding, right?” He walked up to the bar counter and looked around as if he was about to divulge a well-known secret, “The music’s from here.” His eyes gleamed with excitement, “Twas feckin' cla wa'nt it? I mean, just brilliant! See, Patrick’s got a small record label set up and we record the bands here live. He prefers the acoustic performances for an authentic effect.”
Her mouth gaped open, she had known Patrick to love music but not to this extent. She felt slightly betrayed by the news. Surely he would have told her, confided in her, wouldn’t he?
“That’s amazing. But is the music distributed outside of Ireland?”
“Jaysus, yes!” Colin straightened up, slightly embarrassed for his outburst. “Er, sorry Miss. Patrick’s reached the international market a few months back. L.A., Seattle, New York, they’ve all been playing it on the airwaves and I’ve even got a wee bit at stake.” He tapped his chest happily.
“I had no idea. But what about this bar? Is he trading professions?” Flynn grinned at Colin’s infectious smile.
Colin leaned on the broom handle. “Patrick’s doin’ this for the pure love of it. He pulled me arse out of a few by puttin’ an instrument in me hands. Even gave me a job, that’s what.”
“Break’s over, Colin,” Patrick’s booming voice from the stairs made them both jump. “We open in a few so tell the lads to get their arses back in here to help with the setup.”
Colin gave Patrick a sloppy salute, then with a mischievous grin he turned on his heel and marched off with the broom.
Flynn swiveled in her seat, crossing her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me about the music?”
Patrick stopped in the middle of the floor and scratched his head. “I reckon’ it wasn’t important. It’s me hobby, that’s all.”
She eyed him curiously, “Right. Were you going to tell me?”
“I—,” Patrick began when the front door swung open and they both turned to see who it was.
Flynn hopped off the stool, her eyes wide as guilt washed over her. “James,” she acknowledged the enormous man with the build of a bodyguard and salt-and-pepper hair. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit and was heading her way.
Patrick turned to her, his eyebrows knitting together. “You know him?”
Her horrified expression didn’t seem to help the situation. “Remember when I said things were complicated?”
“Better start explaining, luv,” Patrick growled as he stepped in front of her.
“It’s none of your concern, sir. I’m here to get the missus.”
“Over me dead body.” Patrick crossed his arms as if to say he wasn’t going to budge.
“If you insist.” James cracked his knuckles before picking Patrick up and tossing him aside like a rag doll.
James instructed in a deep and serious tone, “Ma’am, it’s time to get back.”
She planted a hand on her hip. “How did you find me?”
James cleared his throat, “Word gets around, ma’am. Especially an American who’s got an angel’s voice and can out-drink Niall, the town drunk.” His lips curved into a smile. “Wasn’t hard to find you, Miss Donovan.”
He reached for Flynn’s elbow, trying to lead her out while she objected. “I’m not ready to go yet.”
“Let her go!” Patrick charged at James who moved easily out of the way. He slammed into the bar and grabbed the stools to break his fall.
Flynn couldn�
�t believe what she was seeing. Patrick appeared to be enjoying the scuffle. Patrick jumped back up, his eyes glowing bright, humor reflecting on his face at the challenge. “I don’t think she wants to go with you, friend. Leave her be.”
James shook his head, bored with the confrontation. “It’s none of your business, friend.”
“Indeed it is when it comes to Flynn!” Patrick roared as he charged at James like a rugby player. The tackle didn’t faze the mammoth man. Instead, James pulled back his fist and popped Patrick square in the face.
Patrick stumbled backward, falling flat on his back.
Flynn’s voice rose as she hovered over Patrick’s unconscious form. “Wake up. Wake up, Patrick.”
His eyes slowly fluttered open with confusion written in his gaze. “Wh—what the hell happened?”
Flynn responded, “Do you know where you are? What’s your name?”
Patrick tried to raise his head and flopped back down against the sticky floor. He groaned, “Me...me name’s Patrick. But what the bloody hell has that to do with me question?”
She smiled at him, relief flooding her system. “You were out for a good five minutes.”
Just then, James leaned down and grinned. “I was expectin’ you’d be out for a good half hour. You exceeded my expectations, lad.” He held out his hand to Patrick as he let out a jovial laugh.
Patrick groaned, “Back for some more, are ya?”
James’ throaty laughter didn’t subside. “Sorry about the shiner. No hard feelings, eh?”
Expelling a breath, Patrick took a moment before he gripped James’s outstretched hand as the man hauled him up on his feet. He stood unsteadily but was quick to warn, “Thanks, but Flynn’s still not going anywhere with the likes of you.”
James shook his head. “Just doin’ me job, sir.”
Flynn hoped that if she avoided looking at him that she wouldn’t have to spill her secrets. She held on to Patrick’s arm and led him to a nearby chair. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be right back,” she chastised.