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Taming Irish by Seabrook, C.M. (14)

Chapter 14

Shane

There’s a chill in the air when the morning sun illuminates the small room.

Makena is curled up next to me, shivering in her sleep. I brush her hair away from her cheek, trying to ignore the twisting feeling inside my chest.

Friends.

Lovers.

Whatever name she wants to give us, I know I’m not ready to let her go. Good thing I don’t have to. At least, not for another six months. That’s when she’ll go home, back to the States.

It’s almost a relief, knowing there’s a time limit on it. Almost.

“It’s freezing,” she mumbles groggily, inching closer to me.

“I’ll start a fire.”

“No.” She turns into me and buries her face in my chest. “Don’t go.”

I chuckle, wrapping my arms tighter around her, and tease, “One night of incredible sex and ye’re already begging me to stay.”

She tenses in my arms. “I didn’t mean-”

“Relax, love.” I nuzzle my nose in her hair. “I’m just teasing ye.”

The moment is gone, and I can feel all her defenses building.

“It’s light out.” She pulls away and shifts to sit up. “We should be going.”

I sigh, rolling out of the creaky, old bed. “All right.”

We dress in silence, and I’m shocked when I check my phone and see that it’s already close to noon. As if on cue, my stomach growls. Thank God it’s Sunday, because that means The Shamrock will be open for brunch.

“I’m going to splash some water on my face and clean up,” Makena says as she gathers her clothes, then starts to dress.

I watch her from the window as she makes her way down to the lake. Then, I turn to give her some privacy, checking my messages.

There’s a text from my mom, reminding me about tonight’s family dinner, as well as a replicate one from Emer. But it’s the voicemail from my agent that has me wincing.

“…still no lead on those letters. I have my people on it, but without a name to go on, there’s not much else we can do.”

Fuck.

“What will you do?” he’d asked, when I first brought him the letters.

“Just find out if the kid’s really mine,” I’d said, knowing I’d do the only thing I could – be a father.

Sure, I might be an irresponsible, selfish asshole most days, but I’d never shirk off my own blood.

Ever.

I haven’t told the guys about the letters yet. Owen knows about the whole condom-breaking incident. But I don’t even know if the letters are from the same woman.

If the kid is even mine. Or, if there’s a kid at all. It wouldn’t be the first time a chick tried to use a false pregnancy to get money from someone like me.

But if the woman wanted money, why the hell hadn’t she asked for it? Why the secrecy, and the anonymity?

What are the goddamn odds that the condom would break?

Two to three percent, to be precise.

I’d nearly lost my mind when I’d read that stat. Jeezus, it might be something they should put as a warning label on the goddamn box.

Owen laughed when I’d said that, saying it was there in the fine print. But who the hell reads the bloody fine print?

My cock hadn’t been the same since that night. I’d been too damn terrified that it would happen again.

A long string of curses come from somewhere deep in my gut. Not just because of the potential kid that could be carrying my DNA, but because of the lack of control I have over the whole fucking situation.

“Everything okay?” Makena’s voice cuts into my muttered curses, and I turn to meet her worried expression.

“Yeah,” I lie, the first one I’ve told her. “Ye ready to go?”

She nods.

After I lock the place up, I lead her back up the hill towards The Shamrock, where my car is parked. It takes us twenty minutes, and each long minute is spent in silence.

Usually, I hate quiet, but my head is spinning from the voice message and all the implications that could come with it.

Makena seems just as stuck in her own mind, her dark eyes distant whenever I glance back over my shoulder.

The parking lot, if you can call the triangular piece of gravel off the road that, is jam packed, and two cars block mine from getting out.

“Looks like we’re having breakfast here,” I say.

“Can’t you just go in and ask them to move their cars?” Makena asks, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“That wouldn’t be polite,” I say teasingly, even though it was my initial thought as well. But, I’m starving.

“Neither is blocking someone in,” she mumbles.

I chuckle and place an arm over her shoulder, but this time when I do, it isn’t a casual gesture, it’s more possessive, a sort of claiming that, for the moment, she’s mine. I almost release her when I realize what I’ve done.

Almost.

Because having her this close feels like fucking heaven. And all the worries I had a moment ago disappear. That’s the effect she has on me.

“Come on. Ye haven’t lived till ye try Tommy’s black pudding and sausage casserole.”

Her nose scrunches up. “I’ll stick with coffee.”

The restaurant is packed with families just coming from church, most wearing their Sunday best. I see a few brows raise when Makena and I come in looking like we just tumbled out of bed after a night of shagging.

“Everyone’s looking at us,” Makena mutters.

She’s right. But we don’t have the opportunity to duck out, because Tommy sees us from across the bar and waves for us to take a back booth.

“No one will bother us.” I place my hand on her lower back and lead her through the tables, wincing when I see a few cellphones come out.

The booth is shadowed, and I make sure that she’s seated with her back to the curious onlookers.

“Doesn’t look like the two of ye got much sleep.” Tommy says, placing two coffees in front of us.

Makena gives a tight smile as a blush reddens her cheeks.

I hand him the basket that he’d let me borrow the day before. “Two coffees and yer breakfast special.”

As soon as Tommy walks away, a teenage girl with a silver hoop through her eyebrow and black eyeliner that looks painted on approaches the table.

“Sorry to bother ye, but I was wondering if I could get ye to sign this.” She holds out a piece of paper and a pen.

“Of course,” I say, scribbling my signature, then handing it back to her.

The girl shifts from one foot to the other, her gaze drifting to Makena. “Would ye mind if I got yers, too?”

Makena’s eyes widen for a moment, before her brows drop and she frowns. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Aren’t ye Makena Hollister?”

Color drains from Makena’s face.

Hollister.

She told me her last name was Fraser, but maybe it was her married name.

Suddenly, it hits me.

Chad Hollister.

Hollywood’s newest heartthrob.

Shit. He’s her ex-husband.

I met the man a couple months ago at a Gala in New York. Owen forced me to go since we’d given a large sum of money to the cause and were being honored at the event with a recognition for the donation. I’d been pissed drunk most of the night, but I remembered the bastard. Hadn’t liked him then. Now that I know what he did to Makena, I hate him even more.

“I saw yer picture in Starz magazine this morning,” the girl continues. “I can’t believe ye were actually married to Chad Hollister.” Her voice rises and is more of a squeal when she says, “He’s so gorgeous.”

“M-magazine?” Makena stutters. “This morning?”

“Didn’t ye see it?” The girl pulls out her phone and starts scrolling, then hands it to Makena, who takes it with shaky fingers. “There was a full article about yer break-up. I don’t believe half the stuff they write in there, and ye seem perfectly sane to me-”

“Thank you.” Makena hands the girl back her phone, her face a mask of composure. The slight quiver to her bottom lip is the only evidence of the emotion she’s trying to hold back. She doesn’t meet my gaze when she scoots off the bench and says, “I’m not feeling well. I’ll meet you by the car.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t have brought her here. Not with this crowd.

After I find the owner of the green Volkswagen that’s blocking my car, and apologize to Tommy for leaving so abruptly, I make my way outside.

Arms wrapped around herself, shoulders slumped, Makena leans against the passenger side door.

“Are ye all right-”

“Can we just go?”

I sigh and unlock the doors.

We both get in, sitting in silence while the driver of the Volkswagen pulls the car a few feet ahead so I can get out. But this silence isn’t the kind I enjoy. It’s filled with tension, and I can feel the anxiety rolling off Makena. I’m not sure what she’s more upset about. That the girl recognized her, that she was caught with me, or about the article.

“Do ye want to talk-”

“No.”

More silence.

Shit.

“I can’t believe ye were married to that asshole,” I mutter, even though I know I should keep my opinion to myself.

“You know him?” She glances over, her eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion there.

“Met him a couple months ago. He’s a real prick.”

She sighs, and a sad smile tugs at her lips. “But the world loves him.”

“And ye?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

“What about me?”

“Do ye still love him?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m not sure I ever really even knew him. Not sure you can ever know anyone. Not really. There are always secrets.”

I don’t disagree with her, because I know I have my own.

Her cellphone rings and she jumps a little.

“It’s my cousin,” she says, frowning at the number that pops up on the screen. “I should…”

“Go ahead.”

With a tight smile, she nods, then answers the call. “Hey, Quinn.”

A woman’s shrill voice, loud enough for me to hear, reverberates through the receiver. “Whatever you do, DO NOT go online. Promise me-”

Makena sighs. “If this is about the article, I already saw it.”

I don’t pick up most of the girl’s rant, but what I do hear makes me like her.

“…I’ve talked with Kade and Jasper…they won’t let him get away with it…he deserves an ass kicking…”

“Please don’t get your brothers involved.” Makena rubs her temple and closes her eyes.

“Too late.”

“Quinn-”

I can’t hear what the woman says next, but whatever it is makes Makena laugh.

“I love you, too.” When she hangs up, her gaze drifts back out the window.

Taking her hand in mine, I bring it to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “Ye okay?”

She glances over at me. I feel her tremble, but I’m not sure if it’s from my touch, or because of the anxiety she’s obviously feeling.

“Just wish I could crawl under a rock.”

“That’s why ye came to Ireland. To hide from all this?”

She nods. “My marriage was over years ago. I knew it. Just didn’t want to admit it. Part of me even knew he wasn’t faithful. But it was easier to just keep pretending like everything was okay. I’m not even sad, not anymore. I’m just…”

“Pissed off?”

“Yeah.”

“Ye know what a really good outlet for anger is?”

“What?”

“Sex.” I grin at her.

She laughs, and a genuine smile tugs at her lips. “It really is the only thing you think about.”

“When I’m around ye, definitely.”

Her eyes roll, and she shakes her head. “I had fun yesterday,” she says when I pull to a stop in front of Colleen’s cottage. There’s a finality to her words, like she expects that this is the last time she’ll see me. It makes my chest tighten.

She leans over and places and hand on one cheek, while kissing the other, then opens the car door.

“Makena.” I take her hand.

She glances over her shoulder.

“What are ye doing tonight?”

Her lips tug up slightly, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I knew what this was. Who you are.”

I hate that her expectations of me are so low. “I’ll be here for a few days. No reason we can’t continue to be friends.”

I see the battle that rages behind her eyes as she chews on her bottom lip. “All right.”

“Good. I’ll be here at six.”

She’s still frowning as she gets out of the car. Like she’s just accepted an invitation with the Devil himself.

Maybe she has.

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