Chapter Twenty-One

 

The lamp was still on. Her nose twitched to the comforting aroma of coffee. Other delicious scents, too. Oak shavings. The wind off the harbor. Rain falling. And—thank you, Jesus—Ash. Now her favorite aroma.

She spiked a handful of fingers into her tangled locks, raking them out of her eyes and off her face. It took a second to realize entirely too much of her ass-end was showing. Along with her pride. Groggy from her over-the-top panic attack, she yanked her shirt down and spit lint off her tongue.

“Ash?” she called out quietly, in case he’d left her for the comfort of his bed, the bed she had yet to see. But he wouldn’t do that, not after what she’d just told him, would he?

“Here, Lass” he called from his kitchen.

Just great, he’s been looking at my bare ass. How long have I been mooning him? He should’ve at least covered her. About then, she spied the blanket on the floor alongside the couch. Oh. He did. Well, okay then.

“What time is it?” she asked as she climbed to her feet and gave her hips a very un-Colby-like girly wiggle that made her breasts bounce. With one hand in her hair, still taming the rats’ nests, she wandered around the corner and into the alcove that passed for his kitchen. What a sight to behold, her man in a ragged pair of jeans that looked soft to the touch, a simple white t-shirt stretched over a rippling wall of chest muscles. I could look at him all day and not have my fill.

His brows lifted when he spied her. Manly appraisal dropped to her bare feet, then began a slow, soul-burning lift up her body, pausing at the hem of her shirt. Assessing. Blue eyes glowing. Lingering at her jutting breasts. Who knew horny nipples acted like this? Pebbled nothing. They were stretched out, reaching for his wicked lips, needing another bite or pinch.

Nearly undone by that feral shadow shifting over his face, she crossed her arms as if that action wouldn’t lift those girls up like plump offerings on a serving tray. Let him look.

That same breathtaking smile curved the corners of his delicious mouth, and—her stomach growled. The impulse to run to him ambushed her so hard, she stuck a fist in the edge of her—his—shirt, pulling it down instead of tearing it off and going at him again. It had to be the after effects of last night’s adrenaline to want him like she did now. Would he mind if she climbed all over him in his kitchen? She doubted it.

Rapping his knuckles to the short breakfast bar, he cleared his throat. “Take a seat. We need to talk.”

His tone brooked no debate, so she plopped her now covered ass to the only stool in the place, hooked her toes over the lowest rung, and leaned over the steaming cup of coffee he had waiting for her at the bar. No man had ever—ever—made coffee for her.

Closing her eyes, Colby took a sip of the richest, creamiest brew she’d ever tasted. A genuine sigh breathed out of her and every last bit of her tension from last night’s terrors evaporated. “What brand is this?” She had to ask. Not since she’d left Texas had she had a decent cup. When her life settled down, the first thing on her Christmas list was a Keurig with all the options.

“You like that, eh?” He cocked her a salacious grin that tightened every last one of her core muscles.

“Oh, yes.” She could see herself moving in with Ash, maybe not into this tiny flat, but somewhere. Together. Maybe closer to town. Near her mother and Tula. At least where she could get her hands on him any time, any day.

“Ready?”

She drew in a deep breath of coffee then opened her eyes. “Ready for…?”

“Another story,” he said, his voice just as firm, his eyes still locked on hers but the pleasure in his eyes dimmed. Not cold, just—dimmed. Way too serious.

Colby gathered the cup to her lips for another sip. “There hasn’t been another fire, has there?”

“No more fires, but the truth, love. Just the truth.” He set his cup firmly to the counter. “’Tis not the whole story I told you last night, and I’ll not have our life together, if there’s to be one, fettered with deceit. If we’re going to do this, we need to be honest with each other from day one. ‘Tis a rule I broke last night, but I’ll not be breaking it again. Of that you can be sure.”

Okay, now Colby was worried. She had been away too long. Was there another woman? “You already know I’m afraid of the dark. Just say it then. Spit it out.”

A smile creased his brow, and the light in his eyes flashed back to life. “You’re not afraid of anything, love. You’re just reacquainting yourself with normalcy, that’s all. Take a deep breath and forgive yourself for being human. I’ve had me own days when I’ve hated the dark. I’ll remember to leave a light on from now on, deal?”

That sounded promising. No other woman then. Okay. She dragged an embarrassed hand through her hair, wishing she had an elastic to keep it out of her face. Morning after hair—ugh. “Deal. So what’s so important?”

He folded his arms and leaned over the bar. “I didn’t lie last night, but there’s more to the telling. ’Twas nah the Irish queen I heard in my da’s field that last day. ’Twas me own dear mother, Annie. I heard her as clear as the summer wind whistling off the limestone cut of the Burrin.” There was that brogue again. “She told me to leave before he ruined me too, he being Liam, me brother. And that’s another thing. Me name is nah Callahan. ‘Tis O’Callaghan.” He paused as if that name should mean something to her. “’Tis Ó Ceallacháin in Ireland.”

Oh, that. “So?” she asked, loving how the Irish rolled off his tongue, especially since he’d not confided in her like this before. “Lots of people Americanize their names when they come here, Ash. No big deal.” She kept her tone calm, cool, and civil. Hopeful.

His jaw squared. “O’Callaghan, as in Liam O’Callaghan.” Again he paused, raking her with sharp eyes beneath those intense brows.

“Oh, no,” she lifted her fingers to her lips in mock feminine dismay. “Not thee Liam O’Callaghan, the Irish terrorist?”

He didn’t get her attempt at humor. Instead, honest anguish glimmered in Ash’s deep blues, tempting her to be just as straight with him and lay all her cards on the table. Just not yet…

“Aye, and I’m sorry from the bottom of me heart, love. I’ll understand if you need to hit me or scream at me. I deserve it. I might not’ve lied to you, but I wasn’t forthcoming and I should’ve been. The honest truth: Liam’s me oldest brother, and the bloody reason Mum and Da died. He brought his politics and his war to their front door the day he and his boys bombed the constabulary in Belfast.”

“I’m sorry, Ash. So Liam’s not on the family farm tending sheep?” She couldn’t resist one last dig. He’d expect that from her.

His cheeks ballooned with a mighty breath before a sigh hollowed them. “I have no idea where he is. We haven’t kept in touch, not since the day he tried to recruit me, and I told him to crawl back to Hell, that he’d caused enough pain and despair.”

Colby set her cup to the counter, unwilling to bait this poor man any longer. His distress at losing his parents radiated through every word. The truth was out now. Finally. Good. “I know.”

Ash canted his head nearly forty-five degrees to his left shoulder, his brows as wrinkled as his nose. “Excuse me? You know what?”

Lifting her cup back to her lips, Colby took a sip before she admitted, “Army Rangers have top-secret security clearance. I’ve been through a very thorough and intrusive background check. I know all about Liam because I listed you as a personal reference. And I’m sorry for what he did to your family, Ash. You must hate him.”

His lips puckered with a snort. “Aye, but you let me think…? You let me go on and…? How long?”

Ah, the coffee tasted good, but so did this particular moment when she had the mighty glib tongue of Ash Callahan—O’Callaghan—tied in knots. “I’ve known for years.”

He spread his legs wide, his head bowed to the counter and shaking. “I should’ve known I could nah hide this from the United States government. Am I not the luckiest man alive?”

Colby slipped off the stool and rounded the bar, elbowing her way under his arm. She lifted to her toes and pressed her palms to his shaven cheeks. “I’d love you no matter what the Army dug up on you, Ash O’Callaghan,” she assured him, loving the feel of his skin under her fingertips. “What can I do to make it better?”

“Callahan,” he corrected, a growl of pride in his tone. “I’m an American citizen now.”

With a rumbling growl, he snagged her off her feet and set her on the bar, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he wedged his hips between her knees. “There’s nothing to be done, but my, you’re a wee one for one so brave.”

She threaded her fingers over his head, still careful of the burns on his neck, but sure he knew her sex was bared to him, the wicked tease. “Aye,” she breathed, loving him with every beat of her heart. “Now show me your bedroom, Ash. I’ll be taking my second cup of coffee in there.”

No sooner said than he palmed her backside and lifted her against him. “Aye, and maybe a wee spot of breakfast, too.”

Colby caught the wolfish gleam in his eye. She wrapped her arms around his ribs, in love with being in love with Ash. Somehow he’d sanded her rough edges away, and she was on her way to heaven. She would’ve gotten there if her cell phone hadn’t rung.

“Blimey, where’d you leave it?” he asked, annoyance crisp in his voice as he dodged the shoes and clothes scattered on his living room floor.

“In my jeans pocket. Over there.” With my knife. She pointed toward the other end of the couch where she’d last seen her clothes. “It’s probably just Mom or Tula. I’ll be quick.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you’d think someone had an orgy in here.” He had the nerve to grin even as his deft fingers kneaded her ass, driving her wild. “Can you reach it, love?”

He tipped her backward, but it was hard to stretch with his mouth nuzzling her neck, his tongue tracing a line of molten lust over the sensitive flesh of her breast. Shivers skittered up her spine and those damned nipples hardened. Could he feel them through her shirt?

“Don’t drop me,” she warned even as she giggled, loving his hands on her.

“Farther,” he urged, his mouth now firmly suckling the top of her breast where he would surely leave a nice red raspberry. “Just let go of me and grab your pants. Trust me, love. I won’t drop you.”

Colby let loose of him and fell backward, arching for her pants even as Ash smoothed one hand up her back to balance her. The nerve. He tugged her shirt up with his teeth, still on his way to her breasts. Not that she minded.

“Ash!” she squealed, the phone ringing again, and her body now hot and wet for him.

At last. She snagged her jeans up from the floor and tugged the phone free of her pocket. “H-hello?” Her smile made her stutter. Or maybe it was Ash rubbing his whiskers between her breasts while he purred with outright male satisfaction.

“Colby?” Tula barked, “Of course, it’s you. That’s who I called. Is Bella with you?”