Owen

“Get in the car, Bree,” I growl out when she doesn’t move, standing there, rooted to the ground like a fucking statue.

Dark, wet hair hangs around her pale face, her lips tinged slightly blue from the cold. But, still, she gives me a look of stubborn defiance, like she’s actually contemplating walking rather than letting me drive her.

Finally, her chest heaves in resignation and she starts towards the car.

“Emer said Aiden was picking me up,” she mumbles when she shuts the door, dripping all over the leather seats.

“Well, ye got me instead,” I say, pulling out onto the road.

I can practically feel her eyes roll beside me.

Despite the blaring heat, she continues to shiver. I glance over at her and regret it immediately. Her wet clothes cling to her curves, her nipples straining against the almost translucent pink cotton of her shirt.

“Here.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, I pull my hoodie over my head and hand it to her. “Put it on.”

“Thank you,” she mutters, then rests her head on the seat, glancing out the side window.

“Ye’re angry at me.”

“No.” She pulls her knees up to her chest, making her look vulnerable, despite the wall she’s so easily barricaded herself with. “I just don’t want a lecture.”

“And ye think I’m going to give ye one.”

“You keep saying I’m trouble, and I guess I proved it.”

“Ye are trouble. But that’s not the kind I meant.”

She frowns at me. “Did they not give you the memo that you’re kind of a rock god? Isn’t trouble supposed to be your middle name?”

I chuckle.

“Shane gets in enough trouble for all of us.” I can’t help the grin that plays at my lips. “So, ye think I’m a rock god?”

She shakes her head, but I see the smile that strains at her mouth. “You definitely got the cocky part down.”

Silence stretches between us, and I flip on the radio to counter it. One of Wild Irish’s songs is just ending.

“Does that ever get old? Hearing yourself on the radio?” she asks.

“No. It’s still surreal. All of it.”

“You’ve got the life you always wanted.”

“Yeah.” Except that it feels empty. Pointless.

“Are you upset that the tour’s over?”

“Change is always hard. But I’ve been talking with Shane about starting our own recording studio in Dublin.”

“What about Wild Irish?”

“We’ll still record when we can. But I don’t think Aiden and Cillian will want to tour again. At least, not for a while.”

“Are you allowed to do that? Not tour?”

I smirk at her. “We’re Wild Irish. We can do whatever we want.”

That makes her smile, and roll her eyes. “I’m happy for you.” She glances back out the window. “For all of you. You knew what you wanted, and you went after it.”

“What about ye?”

“What about me?”

“What are yer dreams?”

“You mean, what do I want to be when I grow up?” She gives me a half smile, but I can tell she’s trying to play off her underlying sadness with humor.

“Yeah,” I say, not letting her off the hook.

She shrugs. “Dreams change.”

“That’s all I get?”

“Fine.” She chews on her bottom lip, before admitting, “I wanted to create music…”

“Why don’t ye?”

“Life.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is if you saw mine.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Frustration simmers inside of me, because I want to know more. Want to know everything.

I pull the car over and put it in park.

“What are you doing?”

“This.” I cup the back of her head and pull her lips towards mine.

I kiss her hard, with all the pent-up frustration and need I’ve been feeling the last couple of days.

She pulls back, her blue eyes searching mine, filled with the same confusion I’m feeling.

I thread my fingers through her damp hair, and drag my thumb across the outline of her jaw. “I can’t make any promises-”

“I didn’t ask you to.” There’s a hint of defiance in her voice and her palms come up to my chest to push me away, but I don’t let her. She shakes her head at me. “Maybe I don’t want this.”

I run my thumb across her bottom lip, causing her body to tremble beneath my touch, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my mouth. “We both know ye do.”

Her eyes close. “So, what? We sleep together a couple of times. Friends with benefits-”

“Do people still use that term?” I ask, amused. “And we’re not exactly friends.”

“No. I guess we’re not.” She pulls away from me, and I have no choice but to release her.

Shit.

“I didn’t mean it the way ye took it.”

“Is there any other way to take it? We’re not friends. I get it. You don’t want a relationship. Get that, too.” She crosses her arms and looks straight ahead. “Just drive.”

“What do ye want from me, Bree?”

I can feel her inner turmoil, the tainted dark part of her that’s searching for freedom, even if she doesn’t realize it. I recognize it, because it’s the same deep need that rages inside of me.

“Nothing. Just drive,” she mutters, throwing up all kinds of walls.

“Not until ye tell me what ye want.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbles, her bottom lip trembling on the words.

“Bree-”

“I said it doesn’t matter.” Anger infuses her words now. Her chin juts towards me, blue eyes warring against the tears that threaten to fall.

“All right.” I start the ignition and pull back onto the road.

I don’t push her. We’ll have time to talk later. I’ve made sure of it.

“You just missed the turn,” she says a few minutes later.

“I didn’t.”

She crosses her arms. “It said Dublin, that way.”

“We’re not going to Dublin.”

“What?” Her brows draw down. “Where are we going?”

“Home. I’m taking ye home.”