“Who?” I swirled the whiskey in my glass.I knew who!
“The Yank.” Ronan blew out a plume of smoke. “Cillian was beggin’ to be thrown out, and Jax held up alright.”
“Are we becoming a Jax fan?” I teased.
“Aye! He’s growin’ on me.”
“Like mold?”
Ronan laughed. “Jesus, Dee.”
Before I could reply, the door creaked open behind us. I turned to see Jax stepping out, his tall frame silhouetted in the dim light spilling from the doorway.
“All okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. I just couldn’t sleep and thought I’d take a walk.”
“Come join us, Yank,” Ronan offered.
“Yeah, okay.” His Southern drawl rolled over me like honey.
Ronan stood, flicking his cigarette ontothe gravel and grinding it out with his boot. “I hear Paddy will have your car all fixed up in a few days.”
“So, he says.” Jax sat on the bench next to me.
“You must be in a hurry to get out of here,” I remarked casually.
The words felt heavy. Why did I care when he left? He was just a boarder.
Seventy-five dollars a night plus food and drink. It was a good deal for me. It was such a good deal that I’d even straightened up his room. I didn’t leave chocolate on his pillow, but I did make his bed and clean his bathroom—even left fresh flowers on the old, weathered desk.
He was a neat man, I’d discovered. He’d hung up his towel and folded his clothes, tucking them away in the small wooden wardrobe.
His room smelled like him. His cologne, which I’d discovered while cleaning his bathroom (not snooping), was Tom Ford. Something black beauty. It was musky and delicious. I may have sprayed a little on my wrist, you know, to test it, as you did when you were at one of those fancy cosmetic stores in Cork.
Was it professional? No.
Did I care? Also, no.
Jax shook his head. “I thought I’d be, too. But I’ve been here a day, and it’s been wonderful. So, no, Dee, I’m not in a hurry to leave.”
There was no reason for me to like hearing that.
I wrapped my coat tighter around me and decidedthat enough was enough, and before I jumped the Yank, I’d see myself into my room and order that bloody vibrator.
And that was when Ronan chose to bid us goodnight.
“You did good today, Yank.” Ronan clapped Jax on the shoulder.
Then, he leaned and kissed my cheek. “Night, Dee.”
“Night, Ronan.” I watched as he disappeared into the dark.
He parked his car at the back of the pub and would be home in fifteen minutes. My family farmhouse. The one I had trouble stepping into these days.
Jax stretched his long legs out in front of him. For a moment, we sat in silence, the sound of crickets and the faint rustle of the wind filling the space between us.
“You and Ronan,” he said finally, glancing at me. “Are you…?”
