Billy Hennessey.
“Stay with Zeke, Joe,” he called out. If it was Billy, somebody needed to watch over the stallion’s safety.
Forgetting instantly about his bickering with the old horse breeder, Sean navigated his way around a couple riders who were leading their horses out for some exercise, and he broke into a run when he caught sight of the person in the plain black hoodie disappearing around the south end of the stables and slipping outside.
“Hey!” Sean shouted, the blood draining from his face.
He wanted desperately to deny it, but the way the person in the sweatshirt moved seemed so familiar to him. He knew someone who moved like that, someone bad.
“Hey!” Sean called again, refusing to give in to the fear that it was indeed the hired gun. Lots of people held one shoulder higher than the other. It could be anyone. He had no reason to believe that he’d been discovered.
But then why had Zeke been hurt?
If it were someone threatened by his rising success in the business, the attacker would have taken down his three-year-old Triple Crown contender, Colorado Gold. That made more sense than to go after the previously crowned champion.
Reaching the end of the stables and rounding the corner, Sean caught sight of the person in the black hoodie just as he dashed between two outbuildings. With rising alarm and anger, he charged after. Breathing hard when he burst out the other side of the two buildings, Sean scanned left and right, but saw nothing.
The hood had disappeared.
“Shite!” He swore. Man, what was wrong with him? Chasing random people around simply because he had a growing sense of dread hanging over his head? Feck, maybe he needed to see a shrink. Because the fact of the matter was that he had no hard evidence that Mickey O’Banion and his men had anything to do with Zeke’s injury. He hadn’t exactly endeared himself to the racing community. They embraced tradition and he simply didn’t fit their ideal. Still, it had never caused him concern before.
Then again, he’d never had a horse come up suspiciously lame before a race like Zeke had, either.
Raking a hand through his hair, Sean swore again, feeling anxious and jittery to get back to Zeke. Maybe he was just losing his mind. Though he’d built a life that pleased him, he’d never stopped looking over his shoulder, and it was wearing him down.
An image of Shannon flashed in his mind and he sighed, this time for a whole different reason. That woman made him want things. Things that came with commitments and attachments—neither of which he was in any place to accept. Still, it didn’t stop him from wondering what it might be like to have a warm, soft woman to come home to after a shite day like this. He turned around and began making his way back to the stable, eager to be with his horse.
If that woman were Shannon, it wouldn’t be a hardship.
Grinning at the delightful thought of climbing into bed next to her soft, sleep-warmed body, Sean didn’t see it coming until it was too late. Until a sharp, searing pain erupted in the back of his head.
And his world went black around him.
Chapter Ten
“WHEN I CAME to, I was lying with my face in the dirt and with a lump the size of a fecking watermelon on my head. But Zeke is back home and safe, thank God, and that’s what really matters. I bloody hate that he’s hurt, though. It still makes me mad,” Sean said around the rim of a pint glass to Jake two days later as his mate pulled microbrews from a tap and listened to his tale like a good bartender, interjecting with a comment or question here and there.
“Understandable. And there weren’t any witnesses who saw what happened?” Aidan asked as he dumped an unholy amount of hot sauce onto a basket of seasoned chips. It was all Sean could do not to cringe when he shoved a bunch in his mouth and started chewing. He’d grown up on Irish food—it wasn’t known for its spice. The smell wafting off the potatoes alone was enough to make his eyes water.
How did the guy eat like that on a regular basis and still have any taste buds left?
The jukebox in the far corner of the brewpub changed over and Taylor Swift came on, talking about what it felt like to be twenty-two. Glancing around at the dozen or so customers, Sean couldn’t help noticing that Apple happened to be one of them. The librarian was sitting in a corner booth with a pint of beer and a plate stacked with chips and a juicy looking cheeseburger. Every so often she would look over at Jake and frown. Why he didn’t just give the poor lass an hour of his time to answer a few questions was beyond him. It seemed like a simple enough request.
Then again, this was Jake. He was contrary just for the fun of it.
Aidan regained his attention. “Hey, did that hit to the head do some damage you need to have checked out? I’ve asked you a question three times.”
Blinking, Sean apologized. “Sorry, mate. What was the question?” He couldn’t remember. Huh. Maybe he did need to get checked out. Or maybe it was knowing that someone was out there trying to sabotage him that had him feeling out of sorts.
Yeah, maybe.
Aidan’s hazel eyes filled with concern. “I asked if there were any witnesses to the attack.”
Sean shook his head and flinched when it throbbed from the movement. “No, I asked around and nobody saw anything.”
Just having finished filling a drink order, Jake wiped his hands on the towel he had tucked into his belt and crossed his arms. “And you didn’t go to the cops?”
Involving the guards was the last thing he wanted to do. “No, I didn’t.” Jake’s face went stormy and Sean continued quickly, “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but there’s no actual evidence that whoever attacked me had anything to do with what happened to Zeke.” Still, his gut told him that they were connected. He just didn’t want his friends to worry needlessly.
Besides, as close as he was to the two men, there were still many things about him they didn’t know, his past entanglements being one of them. It wasn’t a matter of trust. He had kept his real motivation for coming to America a secret from others for their own safety. The less they knew, the safer they were. And he intended to keep it that way.
Jake scowled hotly. “I still don’t like it.” He slapped a glass down suddenly on the bar with a sharp rap and exploded. “Damn it, man, when are you going to trust me and Aidan? When your past comes back to bite you and you wind up dead?”
The surprise he felt at Jake’s perceptiveness must have shown on his face because his friend paced away angrily before coming back and leaning on the glossy wood bar with both elbows and pegging Sean with a hard look. “You didn’t really think we were that stupid, did you?” Unclenching a hand, he straightened his index finger and flexed his wrist, pointing his finger back and forth between the two. “Hell, we’ve known you were hiding from something since they day you showed up in town with nothing to your name but a damn horse.”
Aidan clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Truth, pal. Jake here called it from the get-go.”
And all this bloody time he’d thought he’d been stealthy. Well, there went his comfortable illusion. “Be that as it may, it’s best for you both if you keep your nose clean from me business.” Outside of his mum, the two of them were the closest thing to family he’d ever had. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to them.
Jake scoffed openly. “You think that’s going to scare us off?”
Recognizing the futility of it, Sean stared hard at the bit of ale still at the bottom of his pint before saying, “I know it won’t, mate.”
The pub owner nodded. “Damn straight.”
That must have settled something because Aidan changed the subject. “Tell me more about this new stable manager of yours.”
Instantly his mind turned to Shannon, and his mood lifted about thirty octaves and his chest went warm and fuzzy. Bloody great. Swell.
Now there was that to worry about too.
THAT SAME EVENING back at the ranch Shannon jimmied the lock on the back door of Sean’s house with her credit card and cursed life’s cru
elty. Zeke had been injured at Belmont three days ago and was all bandaged up and grumpy now that he was home and recovering in his stall. It made her fuss over him like a sick baby and angry that he’d been hurt to begin with.
Sean had been evasive about how it had happened too, saying something dismissive about a broken pitchfork. It made her wonder if there was more to the story than he was sharing. Although, to be fair, he’d still been pretty upset when he’d relayed the event to her, so he might have just spaced on some details. Still, his lack of disclosure was a little frustrating—especially since she was quickly growing to love Zeke as much as he did.
And boy, her father had really put the screws to her this time. Threatening to withdraw all financial support from Colleen, leaving her hung out to dry when she was at such a critical point on her path to becoming a doctor, was a really, really low blow.
It was also damned effective.
She grunted in relief when the lock finally gave. Pocketing her card, she quickly slipped inside and closed the door behind her. Whatever she was looking for she needed to find fast. Earlier, she’d overheard him tell one of the stable hands that he was heading into town for a bit, and that had been almost two hours ago. Since she’d been ruthlessly going over his ledgers once again, trying to find any little discrepancy, she’d lost track of the time.
Finding that she was in Sean’s kitchen, Shannon forced her shoulders to relax and took a moment to let it all sink in. The first time she’d been in his house she had been so freaked out by the poo in her hair that she couldn’t have described what it looked like if she’d been paid to because nothing had registered. Taking things in now as she moved through his space felt like the first time.
And she very much liked what she saw. The big old farmhouse wasn’t flashy, but it was sturdy and filled with the same denim blue furniture as her apartment above the stables. It had a comfortable, easy feel to it and tons of natural light. The oak floors were scarred and in need of refinishing but were still beautiful.
It had always been a secret dream of hers to live in a place like this. Some place that felt cozy and safe and welcoming. And where children would grow up in a family that was close knit and ate dinner together every night at the table in the country kitchen while a dog dozed on the rug in front of the fireplace.
It might seem cliché and Rockwellian, but it’s what she’d always wanted. Not the enormous Greek revival mansion she’d grown up in that had felt more like a museum than a home. But that’s what she and Colleen had been given and told just how grateful they should be to have the privilege.
She would have traded that “privilege” for a happy childhood any day of the week.
It said a lot to her that Sean had chosen this place to call his home. Although he hadn’t come out and said it, she’d learned from the ladies at the food co-op that Sean and his friends were loaded. Really, really loaded. They truly were the Bachelors of Fortune.
That he’d hit the mother lode of gold strikes that day and could afford a megamansion full of the finest things but still chose to make his home in this turn-of-the-century farmhouse with its faded paint and creaky back porch stood testament to where his priorities were. And a guy who chose to live modestly wouldn’t be greedy enough to resort to criminal activity, would he?
No, he wouldn’t.
Her father had to be wrong about Sean. To be completely honest, it was beginning to feel a bit like she had been sent on a wild goose chase. Because the more she learned about Sean, the more she was convinced her father had lost his mind. During the hour she’d spent at the co-op, she’d learned that on no less than three separate occasions, Sean had dug women’s cars out of the snow.
Every bit of information she uncovered pointed her further and further in the direction of Sean being nothing more than a good person. But for whatever unknown reason, Callum Charlemagne refused to believe in the possibility that there was nothing underhanded going on. It was like no other reality would make him happy.
Shannon pushed at a clump of hair that had fallen into her eye and sighed. She was just beginning to climb the stairs to look for an office or a master bedroom when she heard the sound of gravel crunching out on the drive and saw headlights pierce the dark outside. Spinning, she darted to a window and looked out in time to see Sean pulling to a stop. How her heart could soar and plummet at the same time was a complete mystery, but it did just that at the sight of him climbing from the cab of his pickup looking all rugged and sexy.
Which was all well and good until she remembered where she was. Then her anxiety shot through the roof and she looked around in a frenzy, her brain shutting down completely. She was still standing at the base of the stairs when the front door opened and Sean walked through.
His froze midstride, his face registering surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Standing around like a jackass. “I, umm, well, I needed to do laundry!” she exclaimed, feeling a fleeting sense of triumph that she’d thought of something. She tried a smile but felt it falter. “Your, uh, back door was unlocked so I let myself in. I hope that’s okay.”
Sean closed the door and slowly moved toward her, saying, “And what were you planning to wear while you washed your only clothes?”
Good question. “Well, I hadn’t thought that far ahead, honestly.” Because she hadn’t considered that he would arrive home at the exact moment that she’d tried to go snooping.
He kept walking and didn’t stop until he was standing within arm’s reach. Expecting him to be irritated at the invasion or something, she was taken aback when his incredible green eyes went soft and warm and lazy. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he said quietly.
The way he said it, so soft and lyrically, had her knees going weak and heat pooling in her belly. “That’s nice,” she whispered. “About what?”
He lowered his head until his lips were a breath away from hers and said what she’d been hoping he would because she’d been obsessing about it too. “Our kiss, lass. I’ve been thinking about the way you melted against me.”
Mesmerized by the black stubble covering his jaw and the heat flaring to life in his gorgeous eyes, Shannon took a small step in retreat and denied weakly, “I didn’t melt.”
Stopping when her heels bumped the bottom stair, Shannon began to wobble and was about to fall when his hand shot out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her securely to him. “There, this is better.” He murmured against her ear, his firm lips brushing her, teasing—and Shannon was in real danger of losing her composure.
How was a woman supposed to think when she was pressed against a rock-hard body like his?
Trying one last time to protest and failing miserably, Shannon simply gave up and threw caution out the window. Then she did exactly what she’d been wanting to do since the second he’d walked through the front door: she kissed him.
Refusing to think of the consequences, Shannon flung her arms around his strong, broad shoulders and covered his mouth with hers, moaning helplessly. As soon as her lips touched his, he groaned and pulled her tighter. She could feel his erection straining against her belly, hard and thick.
He tore his lips from her and rasped, “Jesus, Shannon, the things you do to me.”
Riding on desire and feeling bold, she ran a hand down the flat plane of his belly to the top of his jeans and smiled when she dipped a finger inside the waistband and he hissed between his teeth. His eyes went dark emerald green and unfocused. “What do I do to you, Sean?”
He ducked his head and began kissing her neck slowly, gently. “You make me dream.”
Then she melted.
Moisture pooled between her legs and she went hot and achy. No one had ever said anything like that to her before and it proved to be a potent aphrodisiac. Fisting her hands in his thick, soft hair, she found his mouth again and kissed him hard.
His tongue brushed against hers impatiently and he growled low in his throat. Then his hands were moving over her restlessly and he was tugg
ing at the hem of her shirt, yanking until he was able to slip his palms up her ribcage and cup her breasts.
It felt incredible.
Losing all rational thought about what she was doing, Shannon moaned and arched into him. His large, hard hands were erotic torture against her sensitive skin. “Sean,” she breathed.
He rolled her nipples between his fingers slowly, making her burn. “What is it, a mhuirnin?” he asked, his voice gone husky with need.
She wasn’t exactly sure what she needed; she only knew that his touch held the answer. “I want your hands all over me.”
And she got it. Sean went wild on her, stroking his hands over her now boldly, hungrily. He nipped her neck with his teeth and guided her through the room backward toward the couch as he worked his way lower. The backs of her thighs hit the cushioned arm just as his lips found her breasts and closed over one hard, sensitive peak. The friction from her cotton bra as he tongued and sucked gently had her dropping back her head and moaning.
Knowing she was losing the battle and struggling hard at that moment to care, Shannon arched into his hot mouth. “Sean.” That was all she could say—just his name. All thought had drained from her brain and all that was left was the ability to feel.
“Oh, Shannon,” he breathed against her, quietly, almost reverently like a scripture.
She froze. Nobody had ever said her name like that, not with so much feeling. It brought the reality of what they were doing crashing down on her and she shoved him away, suddenly overwhelmed. “I can’t,” she said, knowing that she was being a tease.
But because of her anxiety disorder, sex wasn’t something she took lightly. It took a lot of trust for her to be able to relax enough to be intimate with someone—and her constant worrying made fully trusting incredibly hard. So yes, she knew she was being a horrible cocktease when she pushed away from Sean and pulled her shirt back down, her body deeply aroused and her nipples still tingling from his touch.
Getting Lucky Page 9