When I met Jax’s friends, they weren’t Cormac theBarber or Cadhla the Baker—oh no, these were people I’d seen on television. After all, they were professional athletes. They were a mix of accents and energy, each somehow larger than life and completely down-to-earth.
“Dee Gallagher,” one of them said, shaking my hand with a grin.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp blue eyes that reminded me a bit of Jax. He had a charming smile and a Nordic accent. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All lies, I’m sure.” I forced myself to smile through my nerves as I recognized the man.
He was Nikolai Andersen, the Danish football star who played for FCK and the Danish national team. I knew my football, I did. This was the friend whose Porsche Jax had been driving when he crashed into my life.
“Jax doesn’t lie,” he said with confidence.
“That’s true,” I agreed.
We ended up talking quite a bit. I liked him, and it was obvious he and Jax had an easy friendship.
“You’ve got a good thing going here.” He glanced over the course. “Ballybeg is beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I puffed up with pride. “It’s been a lot of work, but the village has really come together to make this happen.”
His smile widened, and he nodded toward Jax, who was speaking with a tennis player who I think wasranked tenth in the world. How was this craziness my life?
“Jax has been praising your village nonstop. It’s clear how much it means to him.”
“I’m genuinely amazed at how all of this came around. Jax is a force to reckon with.”
“That’s what he says about you,” Nikolai teased before his expression became thoughtful. “If you ever need someone to help spread the word—or kick a football around for a fundraiser—let me know.”
“I will,” I said, genuinely touched by the offer.
By the time the last group finished their round and the auction started, my nerves had disappeared entirely.
The atmosphere was electric—laughter and applause filling the air as people bid on everything from signed golf clubs and balls to bottles of Aislinn’s homemade jam.
Jax stood beside me, his arm wrapped around my waist, grinning as if he just won the PGL all over again.
“We did it.” I leaned into him.
“Youdid it,” he corrected, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I just showed up and looked pretty.”
“And you are so very pretty.”
He chuckled, tightening his hold on me. “You wanna get naked with me since I’m so pretty?”
“Sure, let’s get rid of all these A-list celebrities…well…all but one.”
“Me, right?”
“Well, that Danish football guy is pretty hot,” I teased.
“Nikolai? He’s an arsehole.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
“Not if you want to see him naked.”
I laughed, and so did Jax.
We joined hisA-listcelebrity friends who were mingling well with our Ballybeg kin, swapping stories over pints as if they’d known each other their whole lives.
