Forever Dublin (Forever #2) Page 3

  “Do they serve food here? Or do ya’ll drink beer for breakfast?”

  A low rumble sounded from his lips as we made our way to one of the only empty tables near the back of the large room.

  “We do eat—we’re not all a bunch of drunks like your American movies make us out to be.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry—”

  “Just kidding, love.” He smirked. “But we really do have leprechauns,” he said, exaggerating his accent, and then gave me a wink.

  I laughed this time.

  “Have a seat.” Adam pulled out a chair, and I nodded my thanks for the gesture as I sat down.

  “What do you recommend?”

  “There’s only one option—they’ll just bring it to the table.”

  “Oh. How interesting.” I clasped my hands on the brown walnut table and glanced around. The high ceilings were decorated with strands of what looked like twinkling green Christmas lights, all weaved between the beams. The long bar spanned across the one side of the room and two dozen tables crammed together opposite of it, maximizing every bit of available space.

  “So, what makes this place so special?”

  “No tourists.”

  My cheeks burned, and I chewed at my lip, worried about how I’d keep up with him through the course of breakfast.

  He tapped his fingers on the table and looked up as a woman approached. She had large green eyes and flowy red hair—the quintessential Irish lass. Or was that Scottish? I wish I’d had more time to research before I’d come here, but everything had happened so fast. The waitress directed her attention at Adam and propped her hands to her hips. “A sight for sore eyes. Where have you been these days?”

  “Been busy, as always.” Adam leaned back in his seat and pointed to me. “Elise, this is Anna. She just got in from the U.S.”

  The woman slapped her hand on my back and nodded my way. “You just got here and you already landed yourself a man like Adam?” Elise smiled and nudged me in the shoulder. “He’s a keeper.”

  Why did I feel like she was trying to convince me to date him? I wasn’t here to fall in love. Or even have a fling. Hell no.

  “You want some red lemonade?” Elise asked me.

  “Um, sure. Sounds great.”

  Adam shook his head and grinned at the waitress. “Funny, Elise. It’s a bit early to be pumping whiskey in her, don’t you think? Besides, I want her to like this place.”

  “If you say so.” Elise nodded.

  “The usual is fine instead,” Adam noted before Elise left our table.

  “Whiskey?” I blurted, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of having spiked lemonade for breakfast. Although, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have something to help me loosen up.

  Adam angled his head and placed his hands palms up, his eyes beholding mine like he had just staked his claim. “A bunch of drunks,” he said, and chuckled.

  Was it hot in here? I started fidgeting with the cotton material of my sweater, pulling it farther from my belly button.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed. “Just nervous about my first day of work tomorrow. I wish I had a little more time to get to know Ireland before I start.”

  I hadn’t expected to even get the job—or any of the ones I applied to, for that matter. It had been weeks since I’d applied to several positions, and I hadn’t heard a peep from any of them. Then, just over a week ago, I got the call. I wasn’t sure if I was a last minute add, or if some other candidate had fallen through, but I’d take it.

  Adam looked so casual sitting across from me, his hands tucked in his lap and his back relaxed against the broad oak chair. “And what is it that you’ll be doing?” His attention shifted momentarily to Elise and the waiter at her side. Elise positioned two plates on the table, while the other waiter placed OJ and tea in front of us, as well.

  “That was fast.” My eyes bulged in shock at the amount of food before me. Fried eggs, sausage, bacon, vegetables, some white pudding thing, and thick slices of brown bread dripped in creamy deliciousness. Holy hell! I wouldn’t be able to walk once I was done eating.

  Elise laughed. “You know the saying, right? ‘Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince, and dine like a pauper.’ Well, I’m pretty good at the breakfast part. Still working on the whole wee bit of dinner, though.”

  “I’ll be working on that forever. I like all of my meals like this.”

  Was Adam joking? There was no way he ate like this all of the time. He was fit enough to have trained for the Olympics or something. I hadn’t noticed an ounce of body fat on him. And I had studied his damn back, chest, and arms more than I had any right to.

  “Enjoy.” Elise patted Adam on the back and walked off to another table.

  “Shall we dig in?” He perked a brow and lifted his fork and knife, his blue eyes on me.

  “Yes, please.”

  The greasy, fried food made me feel like I was in my mother’s kitchen, although the majority of the time she was a complete health nut. She only cooked like this on Sundays, but she never did anything halfway.

  Adam chomped on a piece of bacon that he held between his fingers. Somehow, he made even eating bacon look sexy. How was that possible? “So, you never got a chance to answer my question.” He finished his bacon and took a sip of OJ.

  I wiped my greasy hands on my linen napkin and focused my attention on him and away from the food I wanted to continue to devour. But I was never one to talk with food in my mouth. “I graduated recently with a degree in marketing and a minor in finance. I’m thinking about getting my MBA, eventually, but I want to make sure the business world is really what I want. Plus, I’m loaded down with student loan debt.” I shrugged. “So, for now, I’m going to be interning at a company here.”

  “Why Ireland?”

  “I, um, applied to companies all over the world—I needed—wanted . . . to get away. I’ve never even been outside of Kentucky before.”

  He smiled at me. “Well, Ireland is a grand choice. Where will you be working?”

  “MAC—and not as in Apple. Although I heard a lot of the big companies have locations here now. Even Facebook.” I waved my hand. “Anyway, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it. McGregor Advanced Communications. It’s a division of the McGregor Enterprises.”

  Adam started to cough, and he brought his fist in front of his mouth.

  “You okay?” I started to rise, wondering if I’d need to employ the Heimlich Maneuver.

  He motioned with his other hand for me to stay seated. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke.

  I toyed with the napkin on my lap as he took a sip of his drink. When he looked up at me, his eyes were a little watery.

  “So, do you know if they are any good?” I pressed.

  “Mm. I heard the owners are real pricks.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Seriously?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. That’s all I know.”

  “Oh. Well, I doubt I’ll ever meet the owners. I’m not even sure if my office building is the same one as the corporate headquarters.” I wet my lips but couldn’t find it in me to eat anything else. Reality was settling in.

  “I read online that the McGregor family are into a little bit of everything. They even own an Italian soccer team. Or, I guess you guys call it football, right?” I was rambling now.

  He snapped another piece of bacon in half and looked at me. His eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled. “They do. But the team is playing for shite this season. One and three. But their star player isn’t playing right now.”

  “Oh. So you know about Italian football?”

  He popped his shoulders up in an innocent manner, giving me somewhat of a school boy look. It was the same look my younger brother would give me whenever he was keeping secrets. “I keep up with sports.”

  “So why does an Irish—”

  “—team own an Italian one?” he finished for me. “Beats the hell out of me.” He tossed his napk
in on his plate. How had he finished that whole meal so quickly?

  Then it dawned on me how rude I was being. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even asked what you do.” My eyes flitted to the watch on his wrist, and I wondered if he was well off. The watch looked expensive with its cream face and silver band.

  He kept his eyes on me but remained quiet, which prompted me to tease, “What? Is that a tough question?”

  Adam rubbed a large hand down his chin before his fingers settled on his chest and drummed over his heart. I couldn’t take my eyes off his tan fingers as they moved. “I don’t do anything all that exciting.”

  I pressed my hands to the table next to my heaping pile of barely touched food. “Oh come on. You gotta give me more than that.” I pushed back in my seat, tilted my head, and narrowed my eyes at him, pleased by my sudden lack of tepidness. Acting bold—that was a point for the “things I never do” book. Scratch that—it was point three. Point one was coming to Ireland. And point two was sleeping under the same roof with a man I didn’t know!

  Although that second point could very well go into the “stupid things I’ve done” column instead.

  “Well. I’ll tell you more the next time I see you.”

  “There’ll be a next time?” I hoped I didn’t sound too excited. Then again, I shouldn’t be spending any time with a guy while I was here. In fact, that was the exact opposite of what I needed.

  He leaned in a little closer, and I tried not to swallow my unease. “If I tell you all my secrets now, how will I ever get you to see me again?”

  “Hm. Your secrets must be pretty bad if telling them means I won’t want to see you again.”

  His shoulders moved upright in time with his rich, velvety laughter. His white teeth flashed my way and wicked, unwanted feelings of desire zipped through me with full force.

  Adam squeezed one eye closed for a second, eyeing me in a playful way. “You’re not all that you appear to be, are ya?”

  “I guess you’ll have to see me again to find out,” I flirted.

  Did I just say that? No. It wasn’t possible. I glanced over at my almost empty glass of OJ. Had Elise spiked my drink? Or was there something in the air that made everyone in Ireland a little bit feisty?

  Maybe this trip would be exactly what I needed. Maybe I could recapture the confidence I’d lost in the last year.

  “Damn.”

  I wasn’t sure what made Adam curse until he slipped his hand beneath the table and pulled it back up with a vibrating cell phone. “I have to take this. I’m so sorry.”

  I nodded. “Of course.” After all, it wasn’t like we were on a date.

  “Hello,” he answered. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

  It was the quickest phone call I’d ever heard.

  There was a tightness to his jaw as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He sat up a little as he reached for something else and produced a brown leather wallet. I noticed the first two initials—AF—engraved in silver. His thumb blocked the third letter. I wondered what his full name was . . .

  “I’m so sorry, love. I have to leave.”

  “Oh. Is everything okay?”

  His brows pulled together as he tossed a few bills on the table. “Yeah, all is good.”

  Although I didn’t know the man, I could tell he was lying. His posture had been relaxed, supremely confident. Now he had a stiff spine and a sudden cool, almost icy edge. He seemed . . . pissed, to say the least.

  “Do you think you can find your way back okay? I’d take ya, but I’m afraid I should hurry.” I could tell it bothered him that he was abandoning me in the restaurant, but clearly someone—whoever had been on the other end of that phone call—needed his help.

  “I’ll be fine. And thank you for breakfast. Tell Leslie to give me a call when he gets a chance, if you don’t mind.”

  He tipped his head, his eyes becoming a stormy, darkish blue-gray. “I’ll be in touch, Anna.”

  “But you don’t have my number—”

  “No worries, love. I know where to find ya.”

  Four

  Adam

  “Are you totally daft? What the bloody hell were you thinking trying to get out of bed? Your Goddamn leg is broken. When you need help, you hit the call button, ya idiot.”

  Les rested his head on the pillow. “Didn’t anyone ever tell ya that you aren’t supposed to yell at a man in the hospital?”

  I blew out a loud, exaggerated breath and dragged one of the chairs up to his bed. “There’ll be a lot more yelling if you pull another stunt like that. The nurse also told me you aren’t taking meds. What is wrong with ya? You got your arse handed to you Friday. You could have died!”

  “Yeah, but I can’t afford any of this.” Les’s green eyes shut, and I lowered my head. I knew he wouldn’t take any handouts—he was as stubborn as they come.

  Still, “I’ve got your back,” I promised.

  Les shook his head and opened his eyes. “No. Feck that.”

  I waved my hand out in front of me. This wasn’t the time for a pissing match with my best friend. “What were you even doing in that ring Friday night? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?” What had he been thinking going against someone who’d been undefeated for two straight years?

  “Because you would have tried to talk me out of it.” His swollen and bruised nose captured my attention, and I thought about how Frankie had elbowed him there, again and again. All I wanted to do was break Frankie’s nose—and then some.

  “Then why’d you text me at all?”

  He shrugged. “Because I needed someone to drag my arse to the hospital if I got hurt.”

  I rolled my eyes and fisted my hands, tapping them against my forehead in frustration. “Why in the hell did you agree to fight Frankie?” When he didn’t answer, I lowered my hands and studied him.

  Stitches crawled over his cheek and jawline. They speared down in a jagged line across his forehead. Les was a damn good fighter, but Frankie was an animal.

  “What is it?” My brows snapped together; concern pulled at me.

  “I needed the money. I’m flat broke. Hell, that’s why I put an ad out for a roommate.”

  “You could have asked me for help.” I rose to my feet, a slow boil of irritation erupting inside me, putting me on edge. I needed to hit something, damn it. “Speaking of your new roommate, why the hell didn’t you tell me—”

  “Is she hot?” He paused and itched at the stitches on his jaw, and I wanted to slap his hand away. “Oh, she’s hot, isn’t she?”

  Yeah, she was more than gorgeous . . . and probably too innocent for someone like Les. Or myself, for that matter. “How long am I supposed to keep up with the charade that you’re out of town?”

  He huffed. “I can’t tell her where I really am. I don’t want to scare her.”

  “She doesn’t want to live with you when you’re back, anyway. She’s not too happy about the idea of living with a guy.”

  “Well, the doc says I’ll be in here for a while.”

  I squeezed the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and thumb.

  “Did you see Donovan Friday night?” Les asked. “Or should I say, did he see you?”

  I hung my head, my blood heating at the mention of Donovan’s name. “I didn’t notice him before I got there, but I’m sure he saw me as I dragged your busted arse out.”

  “I’m sorry for that, man, I really am. Shit, are you okay?” The crack in his voice got my attention. “I didn’t think about how you showing up at the fight, seeing me like that . . .”

  I fidgeted with the band of my watch and cleared the emotion from my throat. “I’m grand,” I lied. “Anyways.” Anna’s thick, reddish blonde hair and green eyes flashed to my mind. “So, uh, Anna is entirely too hot for you. Don’t even bother hitting on her.”

  Les laughed and threw the TV remote at me. It bounced off the floor and the back popped off, scattering two batteries. “I knew it.”

  “Yup. Way too good for you,�
� I joked, hoping to lighten his mood. Hell, mine, too.

  “Do you have a picture? I didn’t ask her for a photo when we emailed because I didn’t want to come off as creepy.”

  I shook my head. “Sure, because letting her think you were a woman isn’t strange.”

  “Just tell me what she looks like, man. It’ll help with the pain.”

  “No! You should be taking your meds for the pain. Once you’re better, I’ll be kicking your arse myself.” I folded my arms, the muscle in my jaw ticking. My best friend could have died.

  “I’ve gotta fight Frankie again. I can’t go out like this.” Les’s voice was deep—determined.

  I jumped to my feet, closing in on him. He rolled his neck casually, his eyes on me. “Hell, no!” My hands trembled at my sides. “You’re not fighting again. Especially Frankie. You hear me?” I could be determined, too.

  “Are you my coach?” Les snarled through gritted teeth.

  “No, but I’m one of the last friends you have, so ya better listen to me. You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep it up. Donovan doesn’t give a damn what happens to you as long as he makes money.” My voice was calm, despite the anger that pierced through me. I knew bloody well he wasn’t going to listen. The need to fight coursed through his veins like a drug addiction.

  Les looked away from me, and I wasn’t sure how to interpret his silence.

  “I have to go,” I said a few moments later. “I need to get some air.” I’d known when the nurse called me during breakfast, telling me that Les wasn’t taking his meds, that this conversation wouldn’t be a pretty one. But this was much worse than I’d thought.

  Five

  Anna

  This was not how I had wanted to spend my first day of work.

  Standing in the women’s bathroom, I blotted at the coffee stain on my white satin blouse. Damn the guy who’d bumped into me on the bus this morning! Thank goodness my coffee had cooled since I left the house—the thought of a burnt nipple was more than I could imagine.

  I rubbed my shirt a few more times with the wet paper towel, and then tossed it and propped my hands on the granite counter in front of me. “Just great.”