Chapter Three
Connor
“What’s your story?” I asked, running my thumb along the bridge of her knuckles.
“What? My story?” She shook her head as if she was knocking herself from a daze.
I smiled, glad she answered at least one of my questions. “Yeah. I want to know about you. If we go through with this marriage, I think I should get to know my future wife. I know you’ve got something to tell. Maybe a story about the gobshite who ran into you and spilled coffee all down your dress then later took you for a pint and asked you to marry him. That sounds like the great American love story if you ask me. Or maybe an Irish one.”
“Now, that is a story. If I weren’t sitting here, across from you, living that story, I wouldn’t even believe that tale. Or that I’d be considering it,” she muttered, finishing her drink.
My eyes widened, and I swallowed hard. Was she really agreeing to the idea? Was I ready to go through with it? Hell, if it meant saving the company, then I’d do it. “Does this mean I can call the priest and set a date?”
She shook her head, keeping her gaze on the table. “I haven’t said yes to anything. This isn’t something a girl can just decide over dinner and drinks. You’re talking about a commitment, here.”
“There’s always dessert, too,” I added.
She frowned. “We don’t even know each other.”
“Hey, you’re the only girl whose number I’ve had memorized, let alone called back, in years. That has to mean something,” I said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
She smirked, her eyes still cast downward. “That’s because I’m your brother’s assistant and bail you out every chance I get. Why? I don’t know.”
“Because you fell for my Irish charm the first time you had to wake me up for a meeting. I remember it like it was yesterday,” I said with a melodramatic sigh.
She laughed, finally looking at me. “If I remember correctly, it was literally my first day on the job, and you were still drunk and leaving some poor girl’s bed.”
I barely remembered the girl or much of that night, but I did remember the first time Fallon yelled at me to sober my arse up and get on the conference call. Right then and there, I knew I was going to like this assistant of Jack’s and hoped she lasted longer than the others he scared away.
“I’m sure that girl or the one from this morning would accept your proposal if you asked them,” she quipped bitterly.
I shook my head. “Why would I want another girl?”
She chewed slightly on her lip. “I may be blond, but I’m not some voluptuous vixen that’s fawning at your feet. I’ve heard enough stories around the office, and witnessed for myself that you don’t have a problem finding women.”
I raised an eyebrow. Surely, she was just being modest. “First off, you and I both know that I would take you right here if you let me. That you’re the most gorgeous girl in the office without even having to try.”
Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m saying what I mean. But not only are you beautiful, but you also have a heart of gold to go with it.” I reached across the table, cradling her hands in mine. I tried to ignore the rush of heat wafting through my body.
“No other girl would take care of Jack, this company, or me, for that matter. And I don’t know anyone else who would want a second job just to take care of their Nana. It’s the most unselfish and honest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’d like to be the one to help you with the money and whatever else. We can both help each other with this.”
She let out a deep breath, her shoulders falling. “Wow. You know what to say to make a girl speechless.”
I grinned. “Speechless is better than a no.”
“I’m not saying yes, either,” she muttered.
“Why don’t we head to a pub down the way and you can think about it there? This band I like is playing. We can have another pint or two, some dancing, and maybe by the end of the night you won’t be speechless or saying no.”
“I’m afraid to say yes to going with you because you’ll take it as yes to something else,” she said, her shoulders falling. Her posture was already looser, and she’d finally uncrossed her arms, giving me a better look at what she had been hiding under that pink dress and cardigan earlier. A fake marriage with a girl who was this discreetly sexy could be a good thing.
The more I thought about the arrangement, the more I thought I could have some fun with this girl. She hadn’t said yes to an agreement yet, and the more we talked about it, the more I also saw her smile.
“Never danced to a fiddler? What the hell have you been doing these last six months besides yelling at me?” I asked.
She shrugged. “A lot of sitting in my flat and social media stalking.”
I laughed at her honesty, but a twinge of guilt hit me. No one should have that kind of life when they were living in the most beautiful city in the world.
“If you’re going to be my girl, fake marriage or not, we can’t have that,” I said, standing up and putting my hand out. Our drinks were done, and so was the food. I knew the waitress already added whatever it was to my tab, or didn’t even charge me, so no use sticking around and waiting for Fallon to find a reason to back down.
“I never said I was going to be your girl. That’s very chauvinistic, don’t you think?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, looking to my hand and then to my face.
“Would you rather me call you a bird? I could go back to just calling you pinky as well.”
“Do there need to be any nicknames? What if I called you something like Lucky Charms?” she asked with a laugh. She was a spitfire all right; I’d give her that.
“If you’re just after my lucky charms…” I said, untucking my shirt before I tugged on my belt.
Her eyes widened, and she looked behind her then back to me, but no one around us was even looking at our quiet corner of the pub. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Pulling down my jeans just below my hipbones, I smirked, meeting her eyes. “These are my lucky charms, pinky.”
Her gaze trailed to the shamrock tattoos on each hip, and she swallowed hard before she met my gaze again. “Did you need to do that?”
“If you were going to give me a smart-ass nickname, I figured you might as well have a reason for it. Now should I pull my trousers back up so we can head up the street or am I going to have to pour you some more whiskey?”
She sucked in a breath and then slowly stood up, smoothing out her dress. “I’m not saying I’m agreeing to anything more than going to another pub with you. And I figure you’ll pull out little Connor or bug the hell out of me until I do, so I guess I’m stuck.”
“Little Connor? Oh, pinky, I think my cock needs a better nickname, too,” I murmured, leaning forward and brushing my lips against her ear.
The last time she was this close to me, I was spilling coffee all over her, and not looking at her beautiful blue eyes that couldn’t be hidden behind her red-framed glasses. She smelled fecking amazing. Not like the food she’d just devoured, or the whiskey—that was still a hint on her plump red lips—but like what I imagined sunshine would smell like. All flowers and fresh.
If she said the word, I’d be more than willing to have her as a fake wife and invite her into my bed whenever she pleased.
“Let’s go on an adventure,” I said, taking her hand. For a moment, her fingers pressed against mine, an electric jolt coursing through me from one little touch.
“Whoa, buddy, I don’t think we’ve made it that far yet in this friendship,” she said, pulling her hand back.
“So we’re friends now? Is that what we’re calling this? I would go as far as this being the first date, so I should at least get a little hand-holding action.” I held up my palm, wiggling my fingers. “Look at this little fella. He’s lonely.”
“Friends don’t hold hands unless one is falling down drunk, or doesn’t want to get lost in a crowd,” she said, standing up straighter.
“Can I offer you my arm, at least? You’ve had quite a bit of whiskey, and in the cobbled streets of Dublin, I wouldn’t want you to catch your heel and take a fall,” I said, holding out my elbow.
She let out an audible groan before she looped her arm through mine. “Fine, friend. A chivalrous arm loop is fine.”
We didn’t say anything along the walk. I couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed such a comfortable silence. I almost didn’t want to finish our trip down the road; I’d rather just keep walking. But if this girl hadn’t seen much of Ireland, she needed dancing and a little fun; I owed her that much. Maybe after that, she’d finally say yes, and we could move on with this marriage agreement that was starting to fully form and make sense in my head. I’d get the company, she wouldn’t have to worry about money, and we could both go on with our lives within a few months.
I opened the door to the jam-packed pub. People sat at little bistro tables, sipping from pint glasses as they crowded around the band that contained a gray-haired man on the mandolin and another one sitting next to him with a flute. In front of the two of them was a young lad, no older than fifteen, with shaggy hair and a fiddle on his shoulder.
“This is the Irish band you love?” Fallon asked with a slight laugh to her tone.
I smirked. “Don’t get too judgy until you hear them. That lad with the boy-band haircut is one of the best fiddlers I’ve ever heard.”
We took a seat at a table by one of the windows looking onto the street. I signaled for a waitress, holding up my hand for two pints.
“I’ve never seen a fiddler, so I won’t have anything to compare it to,” she quipped.
“That just means we need to get you out more. We can start with the pub and dancing, but tomorrow I’ll take you somewhere more exciting. Maybe we can even get out of Dublin, and see the Cliffs of Moher. We can call that date two. You’ll need better shoes than those things, though. Unless you plan on wearing only those heels, and we’re alone in my bedroom.” I leaned in, my voice low, causing goose bumps to perk up her arms.
“I have—”
Her words were cut short as the young lad tapped on the microphone.
“Looks like they’re about to start. Trust me. You’re going to love this.” I winked then turned toward the band.
The fiddler pushed his hair aside before putting his instrument to his shoulder and started at the beginning of “Whiskey in the Jar.”
“Hey. I know this song. It’s by Metallica,” Fallon exclaimed and tapped my arm.
“Maybe the American version is. But the original Irish version is always better. That goes for music and whiskey,” I said, looking at the genuine smile lighting up her face.
“Connor Murphy?” a snotty tone asked. I got the whiff of cheap perfume and stale beer before turning around to see the redhead from that morning looking at me with her hands on her hips and way too much eyeliner circling her eyes. At least she’d run a brush through her hair and just looked rough instead of recently shagged.
“Hey, Not Erin,” I said with a grin. If she was looking for seconds, she wasn’t going to get it tonight or any night, for that matter, if the first time wasn’t good enough for me to remember. And now that I would hopefully soon be a taken man, I couldn’t have the bar birds trying to claw for me.
“You have some nerve coming back here, but if you fancy buying me a pint after my shift, I won’t turn you down, either,” she said, licking her bright red lips.
“Sorry, Red, he’s with me,” Fallon’s hand was on my arm before I could respond.
I smiled, despite the verbal catfight I was in the middle of. I didn’t need a girl to stand up for me, but just hearing her say those words gave me hope that she was considering what I’d asked. That this was only the beginning.
Not Erin raised an eyebrow and tilted her head toward Fallon. “Does the American know you were with me last night and this morning?”
Fallon stood up, pulling down her dress so her tits practically popped out into Not Erin’s face. “I’m very aware that I was his escape call.”
Fallon looked back at me and grabbed my hand. “Shall we dance, Lucky Charms? No use wasting a good song.”
I grinned, trying not to laugh as I stood up then looked to Not Erin with a shrug. “Sorry, Not Erin.”
She muttered a curse before Fallon pulled me to the dance floor where a few older couples were moving to the beat.
I put one hand on Fallon’s hip and the other in her hand. “So, this is what you consider friendly?”
“Friends help each other out when an ex shows up, right?” she asked earnestly.
I grimaced. “I wouldn’t call her an ex.”
She laughed. “Is that really the girl whose bed I called you out of this morning? Because I thought you had way better taste than that.”
I smirked, pulling her close and moving our bodies and feet to the music. We fit together perfectly. “You’re pretty confident there for a Yank. If you want to put your panties where my mouth is, I won’t protest.”
She opened her mouth, but instead of letting her talk, I spun her around. Her blond hair swirled with her, and a giggle escaped her lips before she was back in my arms, still smiling.
“So is this Irish dancing?” she asked.
“It’s not the two-step, but it works for now. Gives me a chance to be closer to the band, as long as the singer stops staring at your arse,” I said, leaning close to her ear so she could hear me over the music.
“Jealous?”
“I wouldn’t have to be if you let me put a fake ring on your finger,” I said, taking the chance to bring up the marriage proposition again. If nothing else, she knew I could show her a good time for a few months.
“A ring? You really want to do this, don’t you?” she whispered, leaning in with her lips pressed to my ear so only I could hear.
The touch of her plump lips and tight little body pressed to mine had every part of me standing at attention, including the one below the belt. “Ah. I think we should at least try courting for a bit, make a show for the board and the office. We’d have to make them believe this is real.”
She looked up, her bright blue eyes meeting mine. “The whole idea is crazy.”
“Crazy, but it could work out for both of us, and after six months it’ll all be over.”
“Gee sounds romantic when you put it like that,” she muttered.
“What would you rather I say? I could have lied and tricked you into marrying me for the company, but I’m not a complete waster.” I put my hand under her chin, tipping it slightly, so my eyes met hers. “I want to help you, too, Fallon.”
“You’re a nicer guy than I thought, I will say that.” She sighed.
“You make me sound like my beastly brother.” I frowned.
“You’re not like him, either. You both have the same drive, and I admire that, but…”
As the song came to a close, my eyes stayed on Fallon’s, waiting for her to finish her thought. I couldn’t figure out what was going on inside her head, and I wanted to know where she was. Where we stood on everything. But before the band could start the next set, her gaze flitted from mine, and she muttered, “I should go.”
“Why? The night’s still young.” Shit. I was trying not to push, and now I was scaring the girl. Even though she was saying one thing, I knew, deep down, by the look of hope in her eyes and trembling lip that she was considering my offer.
She turned away and headed to the door. I followed her outside to the moonlit street and waited until we were away from the crowd and on the pavement before I spoke.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so forward. You told me you wanted to think it over and I should have listened. Can I at least walk you home?” I asked, putting my hand on her shoulder.
She shook her head, stepping away and keeping her eyes closed.
I nodded, not used to being turned down so much, but knew I could recover. This was just a business deal, I kept telling myself, and like a business deal, I had to negotiate. “I know. As I said, this is for the company.”
An idea dawned on me, and I leaned in closer, keeping my voice low. “My job in Boston was running the American franchises. When I take the position as CFO, I’ll need to hire someone to take over my part, maybe even have that person operate from the Chicago headquarters. That person could be you if you wanted the position and the salary. That, combined with a prenuptial agreement in the millions, should be enough to take care of your loans and your nana. If you don’t want that position, I can find you something comparable with the company back in America.”
She opened her eyes slowly, her mouth forming a perfect O before she spoke. “Wow. That’s quite an offer, but I’m not a gold digger. I don’t want to just take your money in exchange for marriage and whatever else this entails.”
I nodded. “Then maybe you’ll think about how this is not just about the money for me. This is about a company that has been in my family for years, staying with my family. Keeping the Murphy name in this company my da worked so hard to build with my granddad. If nothing else, think about my brothers and me keeping our jobs, thus you keeping yours. Who knows what would happen if someone else took over? At least this way, we know the company, and both of our futures can be secure.”
She let out a slow breath. “Can I at least have some time? This is a lot to think about.”
“Of course you can. What kind of lad would I be if I didn’t let you?”
She bit down on her bottom lip. “Okay. Good night.”
She started in the other direction, and I put my arm out, catching her hip. “What? That’s it? Not even a friendly goodbye hug?”
She smiled before leaning in and pressing her lips to my cheek, and my entire face heated from the small touch. “Good night. I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”
And with that, she left me standing there in the middle of the Dublin Street, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into with an American girl who was easily the most intriguing and confusing bird I’d ever met.