Well, that was unexpected.

I mean, I wanted it. I wanted it badly, but I honestly didn’t think I’d be hiding behind a door with my dick out. Tucking it into my jeans and buttoning my pants, I listen as Declan talks to his sister about being a lady. It makes me grin. I’m pretty sure it’s against all the rules of being a lady to have sex with someone outside of a pub. Especially to let said someone come inside of you.

I pause mid-stride.

Shit, should I have done that? What if she gets pregnant? Wait, she isn’t stupid. She wouldn’t let me do that if she weren’t on birth control. She doesn’t need to trap me, she has a fucking castle! Man, I don’t know what it is about that girl, but she makes it hard for me to think. Any other time, I would have said no, sorry, no condom. But with her, I couldn’t.

I had to have her.

According to anyone who was talking about Lena today, I should probably go to a doctor. But then, I know I don’t have to. I trust her. I don’t think she is what they say. Has she been wild? I’m sure, but what’s wrong with that? Everyone gets to be wild at some point, especially someone who has apparently been a lady her whole life.

Shit, am I making excuses for her?

What the hell is wrong with me?

Crap.

Opening the door, I check to see if they’re gone, and thankfully, they are. I head to the bathroom. I don’t know why, I know it’s pointless, but I check my dick. For what? Who knows. But I check it anyway. When I’m satisfied with my dick, I look at myself in the mirror as I redo my pants. I’m grinning like a fool. Shaking my head, I wash my hands quickly and head out into the kitchen, where some plates are waiting on the counter. I look at the receipts and realize Fiona has been running the bar in my absence.

Taking them, I head out into the pub to deliver them to the bar. When Fiona sees me, she glares. “I hired ya to do a job.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Where were ya?”

“In the bathroom. The food around here isn’t agreeing with me, I think.”

I hear Lena snicker as Mrs. Maclaster says, “Ah, yeah, our food is rich, ya know.”

“I didn’t, but I do now.”

I send Fiona a sheepish smile as I refill the mug she’s holding. She doesn’t say anything, but I see her looking at me before she glances over at Lena. Handing Fiona the mug, I shrug. “Really, won’t happen again.”

“Mm-hm,” is all she says as she heads to the table, and when I glance to Lena, she is eating happily, a kittenish grin on her face.

Oh, I’m in over my head with this one.

I work the bar as they all finish their dinner, but my heart doesn’t stop pounding in my chest. Even working, I can’t help but gaze at Lena. She steals every bit of my attention. But it’s not only that. It’s the big difference between the girl who is sitting at the table and the one in the painting. She’s absolutely stunning either way, but I’m curious to know what happened to the girl in the portrait to become the woman who let me do her up against the side of the pub. Not that I’m complaining, but I’m pretty sure the girl in the picture would have had me killed if I even messed up her hair.

“Can I have a wee bit of OC on the rocks? Only a bit. Can’t come home pissy again. The missus’ll kill me dead.”

I smile at the older gentlemen as I reach for a glass and then the OC. Holding them both up, I say, “Tell me when.”

Apparently, we have very different versions of a wee bit. “When,” he says when I get about halfway up the cup. I send him a grin, and he sends me one back, which is a lot more toothless than mine before I set the glass before him. “Start me a tab, Yank.”

“Yank?” I ask, and he smiles.

“Yer American, yeah?”

“Nope, Canadian.”

He thinks that over. “What the fuck do we call Canadians?”

His buddy beside him looks confused. “I don’t know. Do we ever have Canadians in Mayo?”

The man on the other side of him shrugs. “I think maybe in 1947 when Ivor had that girl come in. Wasn’t she Canadian?”

“No, Romanian.”

“That’s not the same thing?”

I am having a field day listening to these three. They go back and forth, and finally, I say, “How about you guys call me Jackson?”

Their bushy brows hit their receding hairlines. “Jackson?”

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“Jackson, it is. I’m Trip, that’s Ribby, and that old arse on the end is Mickey.”

I nod, holding my hand out to shake each of their hands. “It’s a pleasure.”

They hold their drinks up to me, and I smile as I turn to put some money in the till.

“Heya, Jackson, can you come get these plates?”

I look where Fiona has called me to, and I do as she asks. As I reach the table, everyone holds their plates out to me. When I get to Lena, her eyes are positively sinful as she says, “Thank you.”

Which is code for “Please take me again,” I swear it. Or, at least, that’s what I hear when she says it.

Begging my dick to behave, I head to the back to put the dishes in the sink. As I’m there, though, I wonder when I’ll see her next. She has to want to see me. She was looking at me like she wanted to see me, but how? I should have gotten her number. Shit.

As I head back out, I grab a napkin and write my number on it. Holding it in my palm, I look to where she is sitting, sipping on a glass of Cathmor on the rocks. I’m unsure how to get it to her without anyone seeing it. She didn’t have to tell me we were on the down low for me to know it. She obviously has some standards she has to uphold, and having the bartender at the pub give her his number probably wouldn’t go over well.

But then, by the tip of her chin, I really don’t think she cares.

But I do.

I don’t want to embarrass her if, for some reason, she does.

Or myself if she doesn’t want anything to do with me.

No, I’ll let her make the next move.

I’m about to find something to do, when I see that she is getting up, throwing back the rest of her drink. “We’re staying a bit, yeah? I’m gonna get a refill.”

“Lass, yer knocking them back, aren’t ya?” Mrs. K asks, and Lena nods.

“Yeah, I have to if I’m gonna stay with you lot,” she teases, but I can see Declan is annoyed by that.

“Do you really need another?”

“Yes, brother, I do,” she answers before walking toward me. I can see the annoyance in her eyes, and I’m unsure what is going on there. But I really don’t know anything about her.

That probably needs to change.

When she reaches the bar, she slides the glass toward me. “Just a bit.”

“A bit?”

“Yeah, I don’t want it. I just needed an excuse to come up here.”

“Oh,” I say, filling it only a little, and she takes it before cheersing it at me.

“When can I see ya again?” she asks around the cup.

Oh, thank God.

“I don’t know, but I wrote down my number,” I answer, not really making eye contact as I slide it to her.

She takes it before taking a sip of her drink. “Grand, I’ll text you.”

“Great.” I don’t know why, I don’t even know what I’m thinking, but before she walks away, I ask, “Hey, you’re good, right?

Her brows pull together, her eyes locking with mine. “I’m grand, are you not?”

“No, no, no, I promise, I am really great, but I mean—” My voice drops to a whisper as I lean toward her. “We got kinda wild back there.”

“I know. That’s the point, yeah?”

“Yeah, but, um, you’re on birth control, right?”

She leans back, her eyes wide. “I am. I’ve told ya that.”

Did she? Either way, relief floods me. “And I don’t need to go—” I stop mid-sentence because there is no reason in hell to ask that. There really isn’t. I’m good, she’s grand, things are fine. I need to stop being an idiot and trust my gut.

“Go where?” she asks, and her eyes narrow.

“Nowhere, I’m just nervous around you.”

She doesn’t buy it a bit. Leaning on the bar, her eyes are in slits as she whispers, “Were ya gonna ask me if ya needed to go to the feckin’ clinic?”

Yup, this is about to go sideways. My heart jumps into my throat, and I can’t lie to her. “Yes, but let me explain—”

That is the last thing she’s going to do, and I knew that from the moment I said anything. What I didn’t expect, though, was the balled-up napkin to come smacking me dead in the nose. I deserved that.

With her face still close to mine and her eyes wild with anger, she whisper-yells, “Fuck off with ya, then.”

“Lena, I’m sorry. Listen, I just wanted to be sure. People talk—”

“Well, fuck them too. And fuck ya for listening. I thought you were different,” she growls before throwing back her drink and slamming the glass so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t break. “I told ya, I’m no hoor.”

I want to enjoy that word, I really do love it when she says it, but there is no point. I know that. I even know there is also no point in trying to stop her, but I try anyway. “Lena, please. I know, but—”

She doesn’t give me time to say anything before she’s storming out of the pub. “I’ll be in the car.”

Everyone looks to where she is rushing out, and when they look to me, I’m cleaning up the mess she left behind.

Because I’m just the stupid bartender from Canada who doesn’t know how to keep his fucking mouth shut.

I didn’t sleep well last night.

Though, I haven’t been sleeping well for the last week.

It wasn’t because I was cold. I am getting used to that, and the new heat pads I ordered are working seamlessly. It was because I couldn’t shake a certain heiress out of my head. I could still see the pain in her eyes, the betrayal, and I don’t know why I even asked her that stupid question. But in all reality, she blew up for no reason. I was just trying to watch out for myself. Is that too much to ask?

It’s still bothering me. I know I need to let it go, let Lena go, but I’m having a hard time with that.

Walking through the market that is about three miles from the pub, I gather the things Mrs. Maclaster had sent me to get. She said if I was going to sleep on her land like a phanny, I could run errands for her so she can watch her grandbaby. Since I really like said grandbaby, I decided why the hell not. I had nothing to do, and it was my off day from the stables. Which is great since every time I am there, I’m looking up at the high towers, trying to see if I could see Lena.

Just a little look.

But nothing. It’s been radio silence. No one had seen or heard from her in seven days. As I walk around the market, I hear all the reasons why.

Lady O’Callaghan found out she’s been off gallivanting with multiple men! Locked her up!

Such trash she’s become.

She brought home all the STDs, and now they are treating her so they can marry her off. Ya know they’re hurting for money.

We don’t see her because she’s getting fat. That babe will be here in no time.

Who’s the father? Oh, you know darn well it’s her old beau, Micah.

Rolling my eyes, I take the order of leeks that was waiting for me and head down the next aisle. I have a hard time believing what I’ve heard. I’ve only been here a little over a week, eight days to be exact. But in that time, being on the O’Callaghan land and in the pub, it’s as if I’ve been here longer. Everyone is so welcoming. Everyone also talks all day long. Everywhere I go, be it the stables, the pub, the market downtown, or even the library, it seems as if the only thing these people talk about is the O’Callaghans.

I get that they’re royalty around here, but don’t these people get sick of talking about the same thing? Especially when most of it is so untrue. I just don’t get it. How do they make it up? And why? I’ve only met two of the O’Callaghans, and when Lena isn’t calling me names, they seem like good people. This town, though, their home, has painted all of them into something resembling bad reality TV.

“Did ya hear? Missus Amberlyn donated all that money to have the kids go shopping for new clothes.”

“She’s a godsend, she is,” another lady says, and I smile. This is the first nice thing I’ve heard all day. “Way better than Miss Lena. Did you hear she showed up to tea in her PJs! I can’t believe they let her do that.”

Shaking my head, I walk past the two ladies and I know they look at me, but I’m kind of done with it. Usually, the rumors are easy to ignore. While I don’t know anything about any of the O’Callaghans, I do somewhat know Lena. Or, I want to feel like I know her. It’s hard because I feel like we have this connection. It’s so raw and new, and man, it needs some life. I’m unsure if it’ll ever happen. She’s obviously standoffish, with good reason. Everyone basically hates her. And for what? Living her life? I’m doing the same fucking thing, and the only person bitching at me is my mom.

It’s just unfair.

When I get back to the pub, Fiona is there with Novelly on her hip. Like always. The things that woman does with a baby on her hip make me look bad.

“Howya, Jackson.”

“Hey, Fiona. Hey, Novelly,” I say as I walk by, and the sweet girl reaches for me. “One second, let me put this down.”

Fiona laughs as she follows me. “How’d ya get me lass to love ya?”

“I feed her candy when you’re not looking.”

Her eyes widen. “Ya filthy bastard!”

I laugh as I set the bag down before taking Novelly from her and hugging her to my chest. She’s a cute little thing. As she plays with the hair that is growing on my face, Fiona glances back at me. “How was the market?”

I shrug. “It was an experience, I guess.”

She smiled. “That’s why Ma sent ya. She wanted you to see how it was.”

“It’s huge.”

“It is, which is why it’s only once a week.”

I lean back on the prep table, bouncing Novelly on my arm. “Are the O’Callaghans always the hot topic there?”

She glances back at me with a chuckle. “Ah, they’re the topic anywhere.”

“Not here or at the estate, though.”

“Because we know them,” she says simply. “We know the rumors aren’t true, and that the Royal Times is a bunch of shite.”

“It just seems a little over the top.”

“Because it is. We’re a small town with this huge castle. We’ve made them a big deal, when really, they only wanted to make whiskey and be rich,” she laughs as she shakes her head. “I’ve never met a man like Declan. He’d die for Amberlyn. His ma and da, they’re good people. They love their children, and they love this community. Then there is Lena,” she says slowly. “I’m not one hundred percent sure what is going on with her, but the lass I’ve seen lately is not the Lena I know. Something has changed, and it’s not fair for me to decide what it is.”

“Do you believe the rumors?”

She shakes her head quickly. “Lena isn’t a hoor. She is a good lass. Her ma raised her to be an exact copy of herself. I don’t know, it’s weird.”

“Do you think it’s the pressure?” I ask, and she thinks that over. “From what I’ve gathered, she didn’t live here for a while.”

Fiona shakes her head as she hands a strawberry to Novelly. “No, after the trial for the man who shot my cousin, Lena left—”

“What? Someone shot Amberlyn?”

“Oh, yeah. This bloke Casey did it. Madman, for sure. After the trial, Lena was happy from what I heard. But then one day, she just vanished. She stopped using her social media, no one could find her, and Declan was worried sick. Something happened, but it’s not what they are saying.”

“I don’t think so either.”

Fiona sends me a grin. “Ya got a wee crush on the princess, do ya?”

I scoff, trying to mask the fact that I absolutely do. “I don’t even know her.”

“You don’t have to know her to crush on her. I crushed on my Kane for years, and now look at us.”

I smile. “True love always wins in the story I was told.”

She holds out a strawberry to me, a grin playing on her lips. “I can’t disagree with ya, but know I wouldn’t even try with Lena.”

I already knew that, but what is she thinking? “Like I’d have a chance.”

She rolls her eyes. “Like I said, that lass ain’t in her right mind. She’s as lost as last year’s Easter egg.”

But was anyone trying to help her find herself?

Taking the top of the strawberry from Novelly as Fiona hands her another, I glance back at the portrait hanging on the wall. It always amazed me how every time I looked at it, I got breathless. I can’t help but be in awe of her. As I stare into her eyes, drink in her milky-white skin, I wonder how no one notices she is hurting?

Am I the only one?

Yes, she’s lost, but something has hurt that girl.

Or someone.

It’s so fucking frustrating, and it bothers me how upset I get.

Especially when I’m pretty sure she doesn’t give two fucks about me.