Tempting Irish

by C. M. Seabrook

  “Bree,” I shout as she takes another step towards the flight attendant who’s checking tickets.

  She doesn’t hear me, just continues to nod as Chris leans in too close, saying something in her ear.

  What are the odds that the two of them are on the same fucking flight? Zero to nil. Which makes me wonder if he didn’t somehow plan it.

  And there goes that insane jealousy raging through me again. Only with her. Never felt anything like it before.

  “Is that the guy from Wild Irish?” I hear a girl shriek.

  “Oh my God, it is.”

  “That’s Owen Gallagher.”

  Fuck.

  I push through the crowd, ignoring the girl’s squeals.

  “Bree,” I shout again.

  This time, she turns, frowning when she sees me.

  Definitely not the reaction I was hoping for.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks when I pull her from the line.

  “I came here to stop ye from getting on that plane.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want ye to stay,” I say breathlessly, placing both palms on her cheek. “I want to try and make this work.”

  She lets out a shuddering breath. “Owen, I can’t-”

  I silence her protests with a kiss.

  There are tears in her eyes when I pull away.

  “Stay,” I demand.

  Her breath comes out shaky. “And then what?”

  “I don’t know. I just know I don’t want ye to leave.”

  A small smile tugs at her lips, but she shakes her head. “There are things I need to deal with-”

  “If this is about that lawyer. You don’t need-”

  She pulls back, confusion in her eyes. “How do you know about that? I never told you…”

  Shit.

  Her blue eyes widen, emotion swirling as she pins me with a look.

  Hurt.

  Betrayal.

  Disbelief.

  I need to make this right. Quickly.

  “I had someone look into it.” My words rush out.

  “It, meaning me. You didn’t trust me, so you had someone dig into my past?” She snorts and shakes her head, but I can see the tears she’s trying to hold back, the emotion that threatens to spill over onto her cheeks. “So, all of this was just a way of you keeping an eye on me? It meant nothing.”

  I’m aware of the damn cellphones that are out and pointed at us, probably videotaping every moment. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Bree-”

  “No. Don’t.” She looks around at all the people circling us. “I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation.”

  “I was trying to help ye.”

  “If you want to help me, then walk away.”

  I don’t care about the fucking phones recording this, because I know if I let her get on that damn plane, I’ll lose her forever. And I’m not ready for that.

  I remove the distance between us, taking her face between in my hands and crushing her mouth against mine, needing her to feel what I’m feeling. That I can’t walk away. Not from her.

  “Stay with me,” I say against her trembling lips.

  She blinks when I pull back, and a tear slips down her cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it is.”

  “This isn’t nothing, it’s something. I don’t know what yet, but I can’t let ye go not knowing. Maybe one day, we’ll get to the marriage and babies and stuff, but right now…just give us a chance to-”

  “Owen, stop.”

  I know I’m screwing this all up. I write words for a living, sing in front of millions of people, but this girl has my tongue and heart twisted in a million knots, and nothing is coming out right.

  “Don’t leave,” I say again.

  She lets out a quivering breath, and says softly, “I’m not giving up my life for a promise of something.”

  I run the pad of my thumb across her cheeks, removing the tears. “Something is better than nothing.”

  She takes a step back, picking up her carry-on and starting towards the gate. “Nothing can’t break your heart.”

  Too damn late for that.

  Chapter 30

  Bree

  “You sure you’re doing the right thing?” Chris asks, moving down the aisle and sitting in the empty seat next to me. “I mean, hell, I’m a guy, and I’m not sure I’d turn down that proposal.”

  I press my knuckles to my mouth, trying to hold back the tears seeking release.

  “It wasn’t a proposal.” My voice cracks on the last word.

  He shrugs. “Sounded like one to me.”

  “How pathetic would I be if I decided to stay? Think about it. Girl moves to a foreign country for some guy she barely knows, who then dumps her three months later. Then, she’s left with nothing but a shattered heart. You’ve heard the story before. It never ends well. At least, not for the girl.”

  “Ah, a true romantic,” he teases, one eyebrow cocked.

  “No. I’m just a realist.” Or an idiot. I haven’t decided which one.

  “A realist who just dumped a rock star in front of a hundred people. I wouldn’t be surprised if the video’s already gone viral.”

  I groan and close my eyes.

  He had someone dig into my past. Despite all his words that I was family, he didn’t trust me.

  All I wanted was to come home. To see my family. To know if there was still a place for me here. And I’d been foolish enough to cling to the hope that Owen might finally see me.

  He did, my heart demands, pushing through my insecurities.

  Those moments between us; they were real.

  In his own way, I don’t doubt Owen cares about me.

  But it’s not enough.

  Love never is. At least, not in my experience.

  The plane starts to reverse, and the flight attendant goes through his memorized monologue about what to do if we crash.

  I slump in my chair and look out the small window, wishing Chris would leave me alone with my thoughts. But he keeps talking.

  “Damn. I still can’t believe you turned him down.” He seems somewhat in awe of me, finding way too much pleasure in Owen’s humiliation.

  My heart throbs painfully, still slightly blinded by the lie that Owen and I could somehow work—that we fit together, like two broken pieces of a puzzle.

  “Better to end things before someone gets hurt,” I mutter, that someone being me.

  Chris gives me a lopsided grin. “You can’t be lost on a road that’s straight, right?”

  “What?”

  He shrugs. “It’s a proverb my grandfather used to say. If you know where you’re going, it’s hard to get lost. Seems like you know what you want.”

  Yeah, Owen. Ireland. Home. All the dreams I’m leaving behind.

  But I know that’s not what he means. “And what do you think I want?”

  Chris leans towards me, smirking. “Here we are. On the same plane. Maybe it’s fate.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, a cocky grin pulling one side of his mouth up.

  “I don’t think so.”

  He chuckles. “Trust me, sweetheart. I’m just playing with you. I know when a girl isn’t into me.”

  “You seem nice, but-”

  “Ouch.” He holds his chest dramatically. “Not the whole nice guy bit.”

  “A month ago, I’d probably have agreed to have coffee with you, but…”

  “But…Owen Gallagher happened.”

  “Yeah.”

  Chris shakes his head. “I’d hate to be the guy who comes after him.”

  I can’t think about that. Because I don’t want there to be any other guy.

  Ever.

  “Too late to change my mind now,” I mumble as the plane starts down the runway.

  And as much as my heart aches for leaving Ireland, my family…and Owen, I know I can’t stay here until I work out my shit back home.

  No more running. No more side roads. I need to deal with the trouble I’ve been hiding from al
l these years. Then, maybe, I’ll finally be able to go home for real.

  I just doubt Owen will be waiting when I do.

  Chapter 31

  Owen

  “If you love her, then go after her,” Delaney says when I help place her luggage in the back of Cillian’s car.

  “I did.”

  “Told her he wanted to make babies with her,” Cillian offers, trying to suppress the grin that tugs at his lips.

  “Last time I share anything with ye,” I mumble.

  He chuckles. “Didn’t need to. Video’s already gone viral.”

  I groan.

  Delaney keeps frowning. “I just don’t think you should give up that easily. Maybe she just didn’t know how much you wanted her to stay.”

  “I bought a fucking plane ticket to Labrador to prove it. What else am I supposed to do? Move to fucking Detroit?”

  Cillian and Delaney exchange a look, before my brother turns back to me and shrugs. “Yer choice.”

  “It’s not a choice. And I don’t even know if she’d want me there.”

  “Ask her,” Delaney says, like it’s that easy.

  “God, I’m pathetic.” I drag a hand over my face.

  “I’ve been telling ye that for a while.” Cillian chuckles and slaps my shoulder. “But one thing Delaney taught me is that loving someone makes ye a little less pathetic.”

  I shake my head at him, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at my lips. Because, for him, the words couldn’t be any truer. Delaney didn’t just change my brother, she completed him. And for a heartbeat, I thought that’s how Bree felt about me, too.

  “Don’t be an asshole and waste months pining over the girl like I did. If ye want her, then go get her,” Cillian says.

  Shane approaches, carrying a huge duffle bag. He tosses it in the back of Cillian’s car, leaving barely any room for the goliath of a man to fit in the back.

  “Would the two of ye stop filling the man’s head with all yer romantic garbage?” Shane grins. “There’s nothing wrong with being a bachelor.”

  “There is when it makes ye miserable.” Cillian adds.

  “Happiest fucker in the world, right here,” Shane says, leaning back against the boot of the car and smiling like he’s got the whole world in the palm of his hand.

  He hasn’t mentioned anything else about the incident the other night, which I assume means he either fixed it, or in true Shane fashion, forgot about it all together. All I know is the thought of Shane with a kid provides a little comical humor to my shitty day.

  “We’ll see ye back home,” Cillian says, opening the car door for Delaney.

  “I’m going to stay in Dublin for a few days. There’s a property for sale just east of the Temple Bar area that I think might work for a studio.”

  Cillian sighs, but I see him clamp his mouth on whatever he wants to say.

  A small chuckle rumbles from Shane as he glances down at his phone. “Did ye really talk about marriage and babies? This shit is priceless.”

  I grab his phone, wincing when I see the video of me and Bree at the airport. I shouldn’t look, but I wince when I see the comments. Most are crude proposals for me, some harsher ones attack Bree, but most are comments from fans hoping that we find our happiness, a play on the words of Cillian’s proposal to Delaney, and the shared tattoos that they have.

  But finding happiness isn’t as easy as the two of them make it look. It’s hard. And terrifying. With a bucket full of what ifs.

  Am I willing to fight for something that I can’t even define? A life I didn’t know a week ago that I even wanted?

  It’s too fast. All of this.

  Bree and I need time.

  But that’s something we won’t have if we’re separated by an entire fucking ocean.

  “Here.” I hand Shane his phone, and turn, knowing exactly what I have to do.

  “Where are ye going?” Cillian asks.

  I grin over my shoulder, meeting my brother’s gaze. “Detroit.”

  Chapter 32

  Bree

  The moment the plane took off, I knew I’d made the wrong decision.

  He asked me to stay.

  Why the hell hadn’t I?

  Because this is real life, and Owen Gallagher is a dream, a fantasy, and it’s best he stays that way. Where he can’t break my heart. Too bad it’s already shattering with every mile set between us.

  I’m exhausted by the time the taxi drops me off in front of my apartment. After Chris showed me the videos of Owen and I on YouTube, all I want to do is crawl into bed and stay there until this whole mess blows over.

  “Miss Walsh?” With wire-rimmed glasses magnifying his eyes to twice their size, a man approaches me.

  I lug my bags towards the building, ignoring him.

  “Are you Beatrice Walsh?”

  Shit. This is one of the reasons I came back. To face the charges against me. But it doesn’t make it any less scary.

  I turn, straightening my shoulders. “Yes.”

  “You’re a hard woman to get a hold of. I’m Ted Davison. I represent Frank-”

  “I know who you are.” Don’t panic.

  The man frowns, but continues, pulling out a manila envelope from his brief case. “I’ve been trying to get this to you for months.”

  “You can tell Frank that if he wants to take me to court, I’m-”

  “Miss Walsh,” he says, interrupting me. “Frank passed away a few months ago.”

  “What?”

  “This is his will.” He hands me the envelope.

  “His…will?”

  He’s dead. Something almost like grief hits me, softened only by relief, and then hardened again by the guilt I feel for being grateful he can no longer hurt me. God, I’m a terrible person.

  “He listed you as his sole beneficiary,” the man continues. “He left you everything.”

  “I don’t understand.” He hated me. Hurt me. Had people try to track me down for years. Whenever I finally got settled somewhere, he’d find me and I’d have to move again. Why would he leave me anything?

  The man sighs, sadness and regret clear in his gaze. “I knew Frank for a lot of years. He was an angry and sad man. But he loved you-”

  “You have no idea how wrong you are.”

  He smiles sadly. “There’s a letter in there. You should read it. Call me once you’ve gone through everything.” He starts to walk away, then says over his shoulder, “Oh, and Miss Walsh, congratulations.”

  I frown at him.

  “You’re a very wealthy young lady.”

  My fingers feel numb as I fumble with my keys and open my apartment door. I sit down on my old couch and open the envelope. Most of the legal terms I don’t understand, but when I reach the value of Frank’s estate, I suck in a breath.

  The lawyer wasn’t kidding.

  Frank had always been cheap, never wanting to spend a dime more than he had to. I never imagined he had that much put aside. I doubt my mom did, either, because there’s no way she would have left him if she had known.

  My fingers shake as I open the smaller envelope with my name scribbled in Frank’s rough handwriting, and I take a breath before starting to read it.

  Beatrice,

  I know you’ll probably never forgive me, and I don’t blame you. But you need to believe that I would never have hurt you on purpose. I loved you and your mom very much. But I wasn’t an easy man to live with. I’ve tried for years to find you. And if you’re reading this, then it means I failed. Failed to say I was sorry. Failed as the father figure I should have been. Failed to protect you the way you deserved. I can’t give you back what I took from you. But I can give you everything that I have. I may not have been your father, but you were the closest thing I had to a daughter, and I hope one day you’ll be able to find it in your heart to forgive me.

  Frank

  I let the letter fall to the table, tears blurring my vision.

  Forgiveness. It’s not an easy thing. Especially
not when the person is already gone.

  It was the same when my mom passed. I hated her. But I still loved her. Not sure if I ever truly forgave her, though.

  I realize it’s something I have to do now. Something I need to do if I’m ever going to be able to move on.

  An overwhelming feeling of freedom swirls inside my chest.

  Did Owen know? Is that what he was trying to tell me at the airport?

  I’m still upset that he didn’t tell me he was checking into my past. But no matter how many walls I try to build around my heart, I know that, deep down, he never meant to hurt me.

  I didn’t trust him with my secrets. How was he supposed to trust me?

  My fingers fidget with the legal documents, my eyes scanning over the numbers again.

  It’s enough money to start over.

  To go anywhere.

  But the only place I want to be is home.

  Chapter 33

  Bree

  Seven hours on a plane, three hours driving a rental car halfway across the country, on the wrong side of the road, and all I can think about is falling into Owen’s arms, and his bed.

  I didn’t call.

  I should have called.

  Because as I pull up to his house, I realize that he might not even be here.

  I knock on the door, holding my breath, but just as I feared, no one answers.

  “If ye’re looking for Owen, he’s gone.” A pretty redhead approaches from the road, a shaggy Irish wolfhound trailing behind her. Her gaze roams over me, and one eyebrow raises as if in recognition.

  A cool chill sends a shiver down my spine from the way she watches me.

  “Sorry, do I know you?”

  “Molly,” she says, a smirk pulling at her lips. “I’m friends with Owen.”

  “Oh.” I know what she’s implying, what she wants me to think. That she’s been with him.

  Don’t fall for her games, Bree, my head warns. I know women like her. My mom was one of them.

  “Thanks,” I say, starting back to my car.

  “Do ye want to know where he is?” There’s a lilt to her voice, as if she’s tempting me, dangling a piece of information like a steak in front of a dog. Something that I know I probably don’t want to hear.