by Penny Reid
“I won’t be plastering them all over Facebook if that’s what you’re worried about,” I assured her. “I’m just capturing memories for us.”
“Oh,” she breathed and then bit her lip.
“I can send them to you if you’d like, that way we’ll both have copies.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, please do.”
“Done. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Good. Let’s go find a less windy spot where we can eat.”
We found some respite from the wind behind a small outcrop, and I pulled the rolled-up blanket from my bag and laid it on the ground. Eilish sat down, but it was too cold for either one of us to even think about removing our coats. I hadn’t exactly thought this whole picnic idea through.
When Eilish visibly shivered, I offered her my coat but she declined. “You’ll catch your death.”
“Then at least come over here so I can warm you up,” I said, my gaze darkening.
Her eyes twinkled at the suggestion, and she crawled over to sit next to me. Memories from back in the boat flooded my head at her nearness, and I had a hard time keeping my hands to myself. I kept them occupied by handing her the wrapped sandwiches and the flask. Then, unable to help myself, I threw my arm around her shoulders, rubbing up and down to create some heat. Her scent hit my nose. Watermelon. Maybe having a cold Irish picnic wasn’t such a bad idea after all. At least it meant I had an excuse to hold her close like this. She handed me a sandwich and then unwrapped her own.
“Not exactly haute cuisine,” I said. “I promise I’ll take you out somewhere fancy next time.”
She took a bite of the pastrami on rye and closed her eyes to savor it. “No way. This sandwich is amazing. I’ll take this over a Michelin-star restaurant any day of the week.”
“It only tastes good because you’re starving.” I chuckled tenderly.
“Nu-uh. I don’t lie about food. This sandwich is the best thing I’ve tasted in forever. Is that American mustard?”
“Yep.”
She groaned. “It’s soooo good. In my past life, growing up, I went to enough fancy restaurants to last ten lifetimes. Nowadays I prefer good old-fashioned home cooking. You don’t get many opportunities to eat out when there’s a four-year-old living under your roof.”
“Eilish, I’m going to take you to dinner. That’s happening,” I stood firm. “Get Sean to play babysitter.”
She laughed. “He doesn’t like the term ‘babysitter.’ He prefers ‘child haute couture consultant.’”
I sighed and smiled. “Of course he does.”
Eilish swallowed another bite of her sandwich. “Sean’s always been eccentric. By the way, maybe you can talk to him for me? Every time he comes to visit he brings presents for Patrick. It’s lovely and all, but I don’t want my son thinking gifts every week are the norm. I tried to explain this to my cousin, but he won’t listen,” she said, exasperated.
I was touched she was asking me for help. “Sure. I’ll just keep kicking him in the shins during training until he agrees to stop.”
She laughed. “Maybe something less extreme?”
“Spoilsport, but okay, leave it to me.”
She looked at me then, our lips so close they almost touched. “Thanks.”
We continued eating in silence, our eyes finding each other from time to time. When we were finished, I wrapped my other arm around her and pulled her to sit between my thighs. There were a few tourists ambling about, but the outcrop provided us with enough privacy. Eilish exhaled softly and rested her head against my sternum.
“This is nice,” she said, her voice relaxed.
I squeezed her a little and pressed my mouth to the top of her head. “Mm-hmm.”
Time passed. In spite of the cold I could’ve fallen asleep. Being with her made everything peaceful.
“Bryan?” she whispered.
“What is it, love?”
“I’m glad I told you about Patrick.”
I smiled even though her back was to me and she couldn’t see it. “Me, too.” Lowering my mouth to the side of her neck, I brought my lips to her skin. She let out a tiny moan and shifted in place.
“I think you’re going to make a fantastic dad,” she continued, and I kissed her again, feather light.
“I hope so.”
“You will. You’re s-so good with him.”
God, my heart was gonna burst if she kept talking like this. It felt like a dream. Too good to be real. Even when she admitted to me that Patrick was mine, I never imagined we’d end up here.
“Eilish.”
“Hmm?”
“Just shut up and kiss me.”
She barked a laugh at my use of her earlier words and I flipped her on her back, climbing over her. I took her mouth in a hot, searing kiss. I’d been dying to do this since leaving the boat. How could I miss the taste of her so much? It had only been an hour since we’d arrived.
She melted beneath me, her mouth opening, our tongues dancing. She arched off the ground, her thighs parting and wrapping around my waist. I groaned loudly when our bodies met intimately. Too loudly.
Footsteps started coming our way.
We snapped apart in a flash and I gathered up the blanket, shoving it in my bag. My breathing was still fast and I willed my erection to go down. The footsteps transformed into a small group of German-speaking tourists, and I prayed they didn’t glance in the direction of my crotch. When I caught Eilish’s gaze I could see she was trying her hardest not to laugh. She was well aware of my predicament.
I cleared my throat. “We should start heading back.”
She glanced at her watch, her lips twitching. “Yeah, I told the babysitter I’d be home by eight.”
I arched a brow. “Something funny?”
Her mouth formed a tight line. “Nope.”
I approached her. “You sure?”
Her gaze flicked to mine, then away. “Uh-huh.”
“Okay, then.” I turned and headed over to grab the last of our things.
“It’s just . . .” Eilish began and then trailed off.
“Yes?”
She shook her head and finally let her giggles flow free. I couldn’t help smiling, too, even though I wasn’t entirely sure an inconvenient hard-on warranted so much laughter. It was infectious all the same.
She gestured to the retreating group of tourists. “I studied German at school, so I can pick out certain words. One of the women commented about you to her friend.”
I smirked. “Oh yeah? What did she say?”
She dabbed the wetness from the corners of her eyes. “Something along the lines of a bratwurst big enough to feed an army.”
My smirk died. “I wish I hadn’t asked.”
“Really? I thought men enjoyed compliments about that . . . particular area.”
“They do. But armies are generally made up of a bunch of blokes.” I arched a brow meaningfully. A loud burst of laughter escaped her, and she clamped her hand over mouth. God, she was too fucking adorable.
She sucked in a breath, finally calming down from her fit of giggles. “You’re too much, Bryan Leech.”
“That’s what the German ladies think anyway,” I deadpanned, my smirk returning.
Eilish burst into laughter all over again.
21
@JoseyInHeels to @ECassChoosesPikachu: Pick up pick up pick up!! I’M LITERALLY DYEING!!
@ECassChoosesPikachu to @JoseyInHeels: What are you dyeing? Your hair? What color?
@JoseyInHeels to @ECassChoosesPikachu: ... really? That’s what I get? I’m desperate for info and you joke about my grahmer.
@ECassChoosesPikachu to @JoseyInHeels: Grammar is no joke, but “grahmer” is. ;-)
*Eilish*
I didn’t exactly regret what we’d done on the boat. Regret wasn’t the right word.
I . . . worried about it.
As Bryan drove me home and the streets leading to my apartment loomed before me, reality settled he
avy on my shoulders.
We’d had sex. On the boat. Before the date. We still hadn’t talked about what it meant. We hadn’t even made additional plans after tonight.
Unable to draw a complete breath, I clenched my hands together on my lap, my thighs flexing with the memory of what we’d done. Though I didn’t have regret, I was disappointed in myself.
The fact of the matter was, I didn’t recognize myself with him. His body made me reckless, thoughtless, irresponsible.
That’s not true. It’s him. It’s all of him. I’d happily have sex with him again. Right now. On a boat. Or on a train. Or in the rain.
Man, I really need to read something other than Dr. Seuss.
Trivializing my desire for this man by relegating it to just his body was an oversimplification. His voice, a soft compliment, a look, the movement of his hands, a twinkle in his eye, anything he gave me made my nipples hard, my breath short.
That couldn’t be normal.
Worst of all, he wasn’t some bloke I could test the waters with and move on from should things not work out. This was Patrick’s father. For better or for worse, we were stuck with each other for the next thirteen years at least. And if things didn’t work out between us, then things might get ugly.
“What’s wrong?” Bryan covered my hand with his. I’d been twisting my fingers.
I looked at him and then away, giving him a tight smile. “Nothing is wrong.”
I wasn’t ready to talk about it, not yet. I needed to think, decide if it was something to worry about at all. Maybe this was great. Maybe I was being silly.
Or maybe this is the big mistake. Because this time, when Bryan leaves, it really will wreck me.
I tried to swallow but couldn’t, so I forced to clear my throat against the sudden tightness. His eyes were on me, I felt them on my profile so I tried to relax, deciding I could dwell on this later. No reason to ruin the evening by overthinking it.
Bryan parked and came around to offer his hand. I took it and we walked to the gate together, our fingers linked.
He was still stealing glances at me, so I decided to redirect our conversation by asking, “Did you send me the picture? Of us on the beach?”
“No, not yet. I want to add one of those Snapchat filters to it first, with the crown of flowers.”
I laughed. I loved how easily he could make me laugh. “Fancy a crown, do you?”
He nodded, grinning and standing straighter as we reached my front door. “I think I deserve one, to be honest.”
“Do you? What are you the king of then?”
He pulled me to a stop just to the side of the door and guided my back against the wall. Dipping his head to my neck he whispered, “Your body.”
I widened my eyes at his arrogance, but then shivered as he tongued my ear. Instinctively, my head fell back as I offered him my neck.
“Send the sitter home, love.” He placed a biting kiss just under my jaw, a calloused hand slipping into my leggings and grabbing my backside. He groaned, squeezing me. “You’re not wearing any underwear.”
“I know. You took them.”
Pressing his hard body more insistently to mine, I felt the length of his erection press against my belly. My breathing quickened.
“I’ll stay the night,” he said, his hand in my leggings sliding around to the front. “I’ll make you come.”
The sound of my neighbor’s door opening hit me like a bucket of ice water. I yanked his hand from my pants and pushed him away. He gazed down at me, rocking back on his heels, his eyes equal parts hot and amused.
I turned, frantically searching for my keys, and lifted my head to make eye contact with Mrs. Francis, the very nice elderly woman from next door. Whenever she saw me she told me she would pray that I found a husband like her Timothy. I’d tried telling her I didn’t need a husband and she’d patted my hand, smiling at me like I was a simpleton.
“Hi, Mrs. Francis,” I called, my hands shaking and my voice unsteady as I tried to unlock my door.
“Oh. Hullo there, Eilish. And who are you?”
“Bryan Leech, ma’am.” Bryan gave her a friendly wave.
“My goodness, you’re very tall, aren’t you?”
“Everyone says so,” Bryan replied evenly, reminding me of Josey’s bout of verbal nonsense. I grimaced just as I fit the key into the lock.
“Are you to be Eilish’s husband?”
I glanced at my neighbor and shook my head. “No, Mrs. Francis. Like I told you, I don’t need a husband.”
“Oh. I must be muddled, because I’m sure your son told me you were getting married.”
Frowning, I slid my eyes to Bryan. I’m sure my look of confusion mirrored his.
“Well, good night, Mrs. Francis.” I opened my door, giving her a tight smile and stepping into the apartment, Bryan trailing after me.
He closed the door and we traded bemused stares.
“What was that about?” Searching my eyes, he smiled. But there was something off about it.
“I have no idea.” I dropped my keys in my bag. “She’s always going on about me needing a husband. Maybe the talk confused Patrick.”
“We should ask him.” There was an odd edge to his voice that had me standing a little straighter.
“Sure.” I shrugged. “He’s not in bed yet, should be having a bath. Let me go relieve Becky.”
Bryan swallowed, not quite frowning. “I’ll go check in on him.”
“Sounds good.” I pulled out the cash I’d withdrawn to pay the sitter and counted it to make sure it was all there.
Bryan put his hand over mine. “Let me pay her.”
“What? No.” I shook off his hand, giving him a sidelong look. “I took this cash out specifically to pay her, and I hate carrying it around.”
Bryan’s not quite frown became a true frown, yet he nodded, stepping away. “I’ll go check on Patrick.”
“Okay.” I tried to look unconcerned, normal, but didn’t quite succeed. The way he was acting, the whole evening, how he’d responded to Mrs. Francis’s bizarre pronouncement had me in a tangle of knots.
His gaze moved over my face once more, as though he were searching for something specific, and then he turned for the bathroom. As soon as he was out of sight, I released a quiet breath and leaned against the table, my eyes staring unseeingly at the carpet as I recounted the evening’s events.
He’d been acting oddly on the deck, too, after I confessed my crush to him. Or maybe it was after we’d had sex. Maybe he was regretting what had happened.
But I didn’t think so. No.
If he regretted our time on the boat, then he wouldn’t have been grabbing my arse outside and asking to spend the night.
My phone rang, so I pulled it out of my bag and glanced at the screen. It was Josey, so I sent it to voicemail, making a mental note to call her in the morning. Bryan was absolutely not spending the night. I needed some time to think, and time with Bryan was not time spent thinking.
At least it wasn’t time spent thinking with my brain.
I checked in with Becky and paid her, ignoring the ringing of my phone as I walked her to the door. She was a nice girl of sixteen who lived in our building. I liked her because she was even-tempered and responsible. Patrick liked her because she was pretty and let him have ice cream.
Boys.
After she left, I checked my phone, saw it was Josey again, and crossed to the kitchen, still pushing my worry about the evening’s happenings to the back of my mind. Ensuring that Becky had done all the dishes and put the food away, I turned off the light and walked toward the bathroom, again ignoring my phone.
Forks and crackers, Josey. Keep your knickers on!
I shouldn’t have told her about the date with Bryan. She wasn’t going to stop calling until I checked in and told her about the evening. I had no plans to tell her any of the details; I’d sort through my feelings in my own time.
Bryan was just helping Patrick out of the bath and wrapping him in
a towel as I arrived. “Can Bryan spend the night?” was the first thing Patrick said upon seeing me.
My mouth dropped open and my eyes darted to Bryan. He looked just as shocked as me.
“I-I . . .” Bryan stuttered, eventually recovering, looking wide-eyed and innocent. “I don’t know where he got the idea.”
“Don’t you?” I narrowed my gaze on him, not liking that he might use Patrick this way.
But then Bryan huffed an uncomfortable sounding laugh and shook his head firmly. “No. I don’t. I swear.”
Seeing he was telling the truth, I moved my attention back to Patrick and his hopeful face.
“He can sleep in my bed, and I can sleep in my dinosaur.” His dinosaur being his sleeping bag shaped like a T-Rex.
“I’m sorry, honey. But Bryan can’t spend the night. He has chores to do in the morning, just like us. But he’ll see you in the afternoon.” Bryan’s eyes bore into me as I said this. I felt the intensity of them even though I wasn’t looking at him.
“I understand.” Patrick nodded, looking glum but resigned, then to Bryan he said, “Promise you’ll come over as soon as you’re done with your chores?”
“Absolutely.” Bryan ruffled his damp hair.
“And we’ll play football?”
“Sure.”
“And build a blanket fort?”
“Hey!” I cut in, laughing despite my swirling uncertainty of emotions.
“And have ice cream?” Patrick pushed, ignoring me, speaking solely to Bryan.
Bryan glanced at me and then back to Patrick, choosing his words very carefully, “It depends on what your mam says about the ice cream.”
Patrick slumped a little and nodded.
But then Bryan loud whispered, “But definitely yes to the blanket fort.”
I shook my head. “Go get your pajamas on, I’ll be right in,” Patrick’s smile was huge as he quickly walked out of the bathroom, past me as though he wanted to leave before I could contradict the older man’s promise.
Turning my gaze to Bryan, I crossed my arms over my chest as we swapped stares. A smile lingered behind his eyes but I knew Patrick’s antics were the reason. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.