Fuck!
I forgot all about the mark when I got out of the shower. I tug the robe up to my chin. Too late.
“I burnt myself on my straightener yesterday. Typical. Just when I want to make a good first impression.”
“Are you sure Ryan didn’t follow you back to Ireland?”
I giggle. Another dead giveaway. This was a mistake, but I’ve got to roll with it now or she’ll never believe me when my barefaced lies become harder to keep track of.
“I told you I didn’t hear from him again.”
I can hear a Bon Jovi song playing in the background at her end and I’ve never been so grateful to hear them living on a prayer in my life.
“Okay, so you went to an inn and had Guinness…”
I know what she’s doing. I’ve seen her handle staff meetings this way when she’s got beef with a member of staff. She’s like good cop, bad cop all rolled into one glamorous, curly-haired package, trapping the person in question into submitting a full confession with her leading questions.
“Then we drove around the countryside and went to the beach.”
Carol rummages around in her makeup bag for a bit before producing her favorite MAC lip gloss for the camera. She paints her lips before resuming the conversation, leaving me to squirm in my own guilt.
“Your boss took you to the beach. Did you collect sea glass while you were there? Or did you go swimming in the Irish Sea together to prove your Irish origins?”
“Neither.” I’m getting irritated now.
I wish I hadn’t called because the euphoria of the day has already been smothered to death by the Carol Inquisition. I should’ve just climbed into bed and held onto the memory for as long as possible. Because now, she’s making it sound like what we did was something sordid, the kind of thing I’d get really irate about if this were a movie.
“We just talked. He’s taking an interest, that’s all.”
Carol smiles now. “Do I detect a hint of defense there, Amelia?”
I slump back against the pillows. “I’m tired, sorry.”
I’m not sorry. I know most people would have something to say about the age gap between us, but I’m an adult. I can do whatever I want and make my own mistakes. I just don’t want a lecture from my best friend about it.
“You should get some rest. I gotta go anyway.” She blows a kiss at the screen and leans closer to end the call. Then, “Oops, almost forgot. Ryan came into the club again last night.”
“He did?” My stomach churns. “What did he say?”
I don’t know why I’m even interested. It was a one-off. We hooked up, it was fun, we went our separate ways. And besides, now there’s Declan… I’ve always had a thing for older men. Carol thinks I have daddy issues—Carol loves a label—but whatever the reason, I have a real connection with my new boss, one that I didn’t feel with Ryan.
Maybe it’s the whole split condom situation that’s playing on my mind.
Not that Declan has used any protection.
I don’t know… But some part of me reacted to the mention of his name. Perhaps it’s simply disappointment that he didn’t call, even though it was a mutual agreement. My ego is feeling bruised because he didn’t come back for more.
“He asked for an address for you in Ireland.” Her expression is completely neutral. “I didn’t give it to him, of course. You can thank me later or I’ll be late for work. Mwah.”
The call ends, and I’m left with a silent phone, and a fading image of Ryan Connor in my mind. I slide underneath the comforter, my clit still sore and swollen from my afternoon with Declan and ignore the faint hum of pleasure in my chest that Ryan did follow through after all.
I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever bump into him in Ireland, but what are the chances of that happening?
6
DECLAN
I start lookingfor reasons to stay in the house.
