Mick

I can’t believe she dropped out. Fuck yes. I know that her brothers are disappointed, but I’m not. I gave her a chance to bloom like the pretty flower she is, but sometimes you have to take what opportunities you’re given.

Leaving her to visit my parents had been intentional. I could have gone the moment she left, but I was afraid I’d stop her. It’s like fate stepped up and gave me a break. My parents tried to set me up with several “pretty” Irish girls, but no one has my heart but Morgan. Finally, I admitted that I was in love. They can’t wait for the call to return for the wedding. They handed down some of my family heirlooms to give to Morgan. One was my grandmother’s ring. It had been a treasure that had been passed down to me from my mother’s side.

Boomer’s in the shop getting another tat. He’s got a little stress to kick off with Morgan quitting after a week. He’s worried because she has a new friend hanging around. Plus, Morgan’s treating him like she treats me—acting like a stubborn brat. I know she’s doing it to me because she wants me, and I’ve been holding back. With Boomer, it’s got to be something else. I haven’t seen her, but I can’t wait.

Two minutes after that thought, I get my first glimpse. I taper down my excitement to see Morgan when I take in what she’s got on. This friend of hers is unquestionably a bad influence in my eyes. She every man’s fantasy, except she’s stumbling. Hell no. She’s drunk. I want to her take over my knee. I follow Boomer out into the waiting area, and she narrows her eyes at me like I did something wrong. Immediately, I see a mark on her neck. Fuck, she’s that drunk that she hurt herself? I want to get closer, but Boomer is all over the both of them.

Then I see something happen. Boomer’s focused solely on the other woman. I barely notice she has dark hair. All that matters to me is Morgan. She stares at me again, and I see the heartache. Boomer is arguing with both of them, but his focus is on the girl. I think they said her name is Crystal. I’m too focused on my woman who is about to be sick as she pages through one of my tattoo books. I step in her direction. Before I can get to her, Morgan lets us know she’s wasted as she pukes all over it. Boomer helps her up and to the back bathroom while I get some towels to clean her up. I can’t let her do this to herself. I feel like it’s my fault. I don’t give two fucks about the book. I see the way she stares at me. There’s no doubt in my mind or heart. I’m a total prick for not making things the way they should be. I just need a little more time.

“Lass, what am I going to do with you?” I tease her, hoping to get her to relax.

With her hands bracing herself on the sink, she gives me a deadly glare. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but I know for sure she’s pissed at me. “Oh my God, I’m such a mess. I hate you, Ewan.” She swipes away my hands as I try to help her. Then she tends to herself. I’m doing my best to control the need to fix her problems. I know that she’s going to be in for a hell of a hangover.

I want to talk to her but right now is utterly pointless. Boomer tells me he’s taking them home and well, I’ve got no choice, but to let them go. I lock up my shop hoping that I’ll get to talk to her.

~~~~~

The next day, I stop by her apartment, but her friend says she’s passed out. “I just need to check on her.”

“She’s hurting, Mick. Something about you has her messed up. If I were you, I would fix it before it’s too late.” She pats my shoulder, and I see kindness in her that’s genuine. I got the wrong impression from Boomer.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what I did wrong, do you?” I ask. Maybe it’s something else. I wonder if she told her that she feels something for me.                                                                      

She shrugs and shakes her head. “No, all I know is that she wanted to curse you out.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say, walking into her bedroom. I open the door to find a curled-up Morgan cradling her pillow. Kicking off my shoes, I take off my cut and climb into bed beside her. She startles just long enough for me to whisper, “Rest, my princess.”

“Ewan,” she moans, relaxing against my chest. Her ass presses up onto my crotch, and I have to hold back because I know she’s hurting terribly. I lay there for about three hours when I get a message that I need to get to the shop. They are getting bombarded with customers.

“I love you, Morgan,” I whisper, placing a kiss on her shoulder, then scooting away.