Cillian

I moaned and complained most of the way down the mountain, but honestly, I didn’t mind carrying her. I also didn’t mind her opening up to me. At least I know the truth now. And I was right about the damn list. It wasn’t hers.

But something has been nagging at the back of my mind. If the list wasn’t hers, if she’s been doing all these out-of-character things just to grieve the loss of her sister, then what the hell is she doing with me?

Was it just to prove something? Is that all this has been to her?

I’m not sure why it bothers me so much.

I’m the one that set the rules. The one who built the walls. But if she’s done with the list, then she’s most likely done with whatever this thing is between us.

A few days of her, and I’m already hooked. Desperate for more.

She’s not like any other woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve known all types. From backstabbing bitches like my ex, to stubborn, insanely devoted women like Emer.

But Delaney...she’s odd and strangely prone to accidents, but she’s unique…special.

It’s like I know her completely and intimately, and yet she’s a mystery at the same time. Something sacred to be cherished and protected.

Get a grip, Cillian. She’ll be gone in less than a week. Don’t make this about anything more than it is.

I sit on the edge of the pier wall and watch her from the distance as she stands at the edge of the ocean, feet buried in the sand, staring out towards the setting sun.

Her long, dark hair whips around her shoulders, and she’s wearing my old leather jacket over her sundress. I pull out my phone and take a picture, wanting to capture the moment, and the day, to have some small piece of her, even if it’s just a picture on my phone.

She’s just a woman, asshole, my brain growls out over the emotions that stir in my chest. A woman who’ll be gone soon. Fuck, we don’t even live on the same continent.

I’m confusing lust with something more, that’s all it is.

“You’re going to miss it,” she says over her shoulder, the oranges and purples of the sky illuminating her face.

So goddamn beautiful.

I pull off my boots, and roll my jeans above my ankles, then hop from the wall.

She leans back against my chest when I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.

“I’ve never seen a sunset over the ocean before. It’s incredible.”

I tighten my grip, and bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent.

Mine.

She exhales softly as the last of the sun dips below the horizon. “I wish…”

“What de ye wish, love?”

She turns in my arms, then wraps her hands around my neck. “I wish I could stay here longer.”

“How long do ye think ye’ll stay?” I can’t control the tightness in my chest.

“Once I get the car thing straightened out...” Her gaze drops to my chest, brows drawn down. “I’ll go home after that.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

“Then ye better enjoy what little time ye have left.” I tilt her chin up and grin down at her. “Forget the list. I’ll show ye the best of Ireland.”

“I think you already have.” Her fingers trace the outline of my scruff, and a small smile tugs at her lips.

Damn, the emotions that she makes me feel.

I kiss her hard, devouring her like a starving man. Needing to replace the ache in my chest with something far less dangerous. Desire.

She makes me forget the world around us. Makes me forget why I don’t trust people, why I keep my emotions safely hidden behind a wall of cynicism.

A deep chuckle rumbles behind me before a familiar voice calls out my name, “Cillian Gallagher.”

Pressing my forehead against Delaney’s, I exhale and try to gather what’s left of my sanity, before turning to the group that’s walking toward us.

Patrick Murphy, the lead singer of O’Mulligans, grins as he approaches.

“Now, there’s trouble.” I take his hand and he pulls me to his chest, slapping my back.

“What’s the craic?”

“Feck all, and yourself?”

“Doin’ fine.” His gaze goes to Delaney, and his eyes widen in appreciation. “And ye are?”

“Delaney. It’s nice to meet you.” She allows him to take her hand, but he holds it a little longer than necessary, and I feel a growl rumbling in my throat.

“Ye’re American?” He’s still holding her damn hand.

A rush of jealousy smacks me in the chest, and without thinking, I wrap one arm around her shoulder and pull her towards me.

Patrick chuckles. “So, it’s that way, is it?”

I grunt, causing him to laugh harder, and Delaney to look up at me in confusion.

“Are ye coming to the Crow’s Head?”

I nod, which seems to satisfy him.

As they start up to the beach in the direction of the pub, Patrick shouts over his shoulder in Gaelic and the other men laugh.

I grunt, glad Delaney doesn’t understand the language. If she did, I may have had to knock a few of the man’s teeth out. I still might if he looks at her that way again.

“What did he say?” she asks, as we start to walk back to the pier.

“That ye’re beautiful,” I lie.

“Oh.” She pulls her lip between her teeth, and even in the fading light I can see the blush that spreads across her cheeks.

I swear the woman doesn’t know how sexy she is. In a way, it scares me, because she doesn’t see the way men look at her, or the danger they pose.

“What’s the Crow’s Head?” she asks, shivering as a cool gust of wind twirls around us.

“A pub.”

She groans. “No more whiskey.”

I laugh.

“Ye can stick to Guinness tonight.” I scoop her up, and she lets out a little yelp before wrapping her arms around my neck and burying her face in the crook of my neck.

“I could get used to this,” she murmurs against my skin. “You carrying me.”

“Ye’re making me wonder if ye haven’t been faking being hurt all along.”

She chuckles. “I guess you’ll never know.”

There’s a lot I’ll never know about her. And a million things I want to.