Rebecca’s gas guzzler rocks and rumbles along the bumpy, unpaved Irish road. It jostles my arm something fierce—which I would complain about, if it wasn’t doing the same thing to her breasts beneath her shirt.

“Stop staring at my tits,” Rebecca glowers.

Her knuckles whiten as she tightens her grip on the steering wheel.

“Eyes on the road, lass,” I chide her. “Wouldn’t want to peel any more wandering Irishmen off your front bumper, after all.”

Still, I’m a gentleman. At least, when I want to be.

Instead, I watch the way her headlights illuminate the road ahead. I know every road of this county better than I know the bottom of a pint of Guinness…but I know this one even better than most.

“So where, um…where do you live?”

“Ah,” I chuckle, pointing back and to the left. “In a cottage back in the other direction. Maybe half a kilo—kilometer, that is.”

She slams on the brakes so hard, my poor injured arm and I go crashing into the dashboard.

“Ooch!” I look over at Rebecca, wounded. “Are you taking the mickey?! I’m injured over here!”

“I could ask you the same,” she says back to me in that sassy little tone that lets me know I’ve been caught. “Did you say cottage? Because I’m renting one around here, and there’s not supposed to be anything else around but one or two more…no…great!”

Rebecca screeches the massive vehicle around angrily, the wheels swiveling off the road and then back onto it.

“Janey May, woman! Do you think this is the Kentucky Fried Derby or some other stateside event? Here in the European Economic Area, we respect human lives.”

Rebecca’s brought her hired monster back to a halt, and her eyes narrow fiercely as she stares.

“First of all, it’s the Kentucky Derby. And that’s horses, not vehicles! Second of all…”

Rebecca shakes her head. She knows how thoroughly I’m taking the piss, but she can’t let herself acknowledge that—no, sir.

Even ignoring me wouldn’t be enough. She has to address my ridiculousness.

Until she realizes she can’t—like at this moment.

There is no second of all. So, Rebecca starts piloting the SUV down the road again, going painfully slow all of a sudden.

Heck, maybe she did think I was being serious.

But I can see she’s not thinking about that anymore. I can tell her eyes are focused on the cottages, now visible up ahead.

She may regret taking this particular holiday rental.

That is what her cottage is, too. I would know, because I am practically next door to it.

I couldn’t help it. I grin at her like the bastard I am.

“Looks like we’re neighbors then, doesn’t it?”

“Just what I need,” she replies sarcastically.

“You don’t believe in the concept of neighborly kinship, then? Is that not a concept they teach in schools in the States? Is that not something that’s valued in your society?”

“That’s not a concept that exists anywhere. Not until you just made it up.”

Rebecca’s glaring through her windshield, not willing to indulge my bit, the comedy bit, for even a wee little moment.

“You’ve got me there, Becks-becks. But, if you’d ever like to stop by and relive some old times…”

Rebecca slams the brakes abruptly again, this time for even less of a good reason. Her mouth is agape, and she’s looking at me like I’d lost my mind, which, in a way, I suppose I have.

“Killian,” she says sweetly, giving me the most angelic face.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“You’re a fucking moron!”

I give her a self-satisfied smirk. Even now with the red color rising in her cheeks, I find her deliciously appetizing. Rebecca is one of those women you never forget, from her long red hair to the sharp glance she gives me.

I regard her thoughtfully. Tall, slender body, with just enough curves in all the right places.

Everything about Rebecca is inviting. I don’t mean to be a prick, but it seems that every time I’m around her, I can barely keep my thoughts straight.

It’s like my mouth has no filter, and I’ll say the first thought that pops into my head.

Now, I’m usually a perfect fucking gentleman. Even after a few drinks—fuck, especially after a few drinks—you could hit me with a fucking sports utility vehicle as I’m ambling innocently along the side of the road, and I wouldn’t even fault you.

But I’m turning into a wee right snotty little radge this evening. I suppose for the sake of my made-up concept of neighborly kinship, I’ll try to give it a rest.

We drive in silence for a moment. The moon is high in the sky.

Moonlight and starlight alike seem magnetically attracted to Rebecca’s hair. The dim lights of nighttime here in the heart of the countryside all seem to be playing on her ravishing fucking features.

She’s so focused on the road, it’s as if I don’t exist. Somehow, it’s as if between the open road and the windshield, Rebecca is in a world of her own, one that I can only glance at from afar but will never be a part of.

She’s always been beautiful, but at this moment, she’s absolutely radiant. I want to touch her, to reach out and slide my fingers against her soft cheeks.

It won’t be long before we part ways and I know that if I don’t do something now, my chance will be lost forever.

Get it together, Killian. Don’t fuck this up.

I’m trying to give myself the boost of confidence I’m only pretending to feel.

I know I’ve been an asshole, and I wouldn’t be shocked if she never wanted to speak to me again. I can see from the way her lips are pressed together that I am the last person she wanted to see.

My throat feels dry, my palms sweaty. I run my fingers through my hair, attempting to collect myself.

“What are you doing in Ireland anyway?” I ask.

Rebecca taps her nails against the steering wheel.

“I’m on vacation,” she says tightly.

I look her over. She looks tired—as if she hasn’t slept in days. Although she’d done a great job of putting her makeup and hair together—Rebecca never looks out of sorts—there’s something in her voice that tells me there’s more to this story.

“That doesn’t sound like the Rebecca I know,” I say.

“You’re right. You don’t know me,” she replies.

“Don’t be so sure,” I say.

The car begins to slow. Rebecca pulls the vehicle to a complete stop. Her arms are crossed, and I can tell she’s got something up her sleeve.

“Okay, try me,” she says.

I cock one eyebrow. “Try you?” I reply smugly.

“Since you know me so well, you won’t have any trouble telling me about my life,” she says.

She turns her body towards me. I can see the roundness of her nipples, poking through her shirt. It’s clear she doesn’t wear a bra. Her hips, which are locked in by the seat belt, jut out in perfect formation.

I lean back in the seat, my attempt at playing it cool.

“Rebecca Doyle wouldn’t travel for a vacation. That’s not her style. She’s a diehard workaholic,” I say.

“That was a long time ago,” she says.

“I don’t think so. You’re a little older, but you’re still the same Rebecca. You didn’t come to Ireland to sightsee,” I say.

She sighs. “You’re right. I had a book deal that just came through and coming here was just my way of finding some inspiration,” she says.

I ponder her words. There’s something contained in her voice. I can tell that she’s holding something back.

“That’s only part of the reason. There’s something you’re not telling me,” I say.

“Such as?” she prods.

“You came to Ireland as an escape. You’re running away from something,” I say.

A shadow passes across her face, and I can tell that I’ve struck a nerve.

I smile ruefully. “So, out with it. Who is he?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps.

“Come on. You know you’ve never been able to hide anything from me,” I say.

“Oh, cut the crap, Killian,” she gripes.

There’s a slight tremor to her voice, as if she’s trying not to break down. I can’t explain what comes over me, but I have a desire to hold her. To pull her into my arms.

I reach out towards her, allowing my hands to rest on her shoulder.

She turns to look at me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” I say.

“Killian, let’s just leave it alone.” She glances at the clock. “It’s getting late, why don’t I let you out here, and I’ll head home,” she says.

I was so distracted, I hadn’t really noticed where she had stopped the car. I look toward the house and realize that it had never looked so empty.

“I’ll see you around,” she says, offering her hand.

I take it between my fingers, playing with her palm, the way a cat plays with a mouse.

“Sleep with me,” I whisper.

Rebecca shrugs. “Let’s catch up when I’m not sleep deprived.”

“Tell me you don’t feel this. You know as well as I that we’ve never been able to stay away from each other. Stay the night with me,” I say, my lips nearly touching hers.

She lingers there for a moment. I can see the struggle on her face as if she’s toying with the idea of allowing me to kiss her.

“I’ve had a long flight, Killian. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

“Rebecca, please...” My voice trails away.

I hear the clicking sound of the car door as it unlocks.

“Goodbye, Killian,” she says.

With nothing else to say, I move out of the car.

“My offer still stands,” I say.

“Let’s catch up sometime, maybe…bye, Killian.”

I get out and close the door behind me. I watch the car pull away, towards the rental cottage, taking my heart along with it.

Again.

Maybe that’s just how life works. Maybe once every few years, there’s a fresh heartbreak, and I never know when it’s going to come.

Or how.

Or if it’ll be proceeded by an actual broken fucking bone first.