Chapter 3
Three
LUCY
I sit in my chair, Clover in my lap. My Chihuahua is sleepier than usual this evening, processing some strong medication for a doggy cold. Anna sits opposite, cross-legged, always keen to improve her yoga with a pose even when she’s not in a session. We’ve been friends since high school, the Yin to each other’s Yang.
“He doesn’t know I know he called me beautiful,” I whisper-yell.
“But he looks at you like he wants you,” she replies.
“If he wanted me, he would’ve made a move by now. It’s been six months.”
Anna shakes her head. “Maybe he thinks you’d find it weird.”
“Weird, how?”
“He knew you when you were a kid? He’s in his mid-thirties. You’re twenty-three.”
“That doesn’t make it weird. He didn’t know me. We only met once. And ten years is hardly the end of the world.”
“Hey.” Anna holds her hands up. “I’m not saying I think it’s weird, but these are reasons he might. There’s always the nuclear option… you could ask him out.”
“That’s an option for you, maybe, but not for me,” I blurt out.
“The best option, really, is to lock the door the next time it’s just the two of you, throw yourself into his arms, wrap your legs around him, and go to pogo-stick city.”
I laugh. “You’re a lunatic. I could never do anything like that.”
“What about that green dress you bought last month?”
I was wondering when she’d bring that up. I bought a green dress specifically because I noticed how Killian sometimes looks at me with hunger burning in his fierce blues… and I wanted him to look at me like that again. But so far, I haven’t had the courage to wear it.
“I think it’s time. Or you just fall to your knees and…”
“Relax,” I say, chuckling. “I’ll wear the dress.”
The next morning, I stand in front of the mirror, looking at the dress with some slight cleavage showing. The green plaid guarantees I can play it off as part of an Irish theme, to go along with the prints and green banners in The Crust. Nerves twist in my belly as I note my wide hips, the size of my body… But I can’t let nerves win. I refuse to.
Anyway, thinking about this is better than the other stuff, the Shane crap.
I put Clover in the back office because she was so needy last night, then set up her dog camera on my phone in case she needs me. For an hour, I work, trying to focus, but I’m counting down the seconds until Killian’s visit.
Just like that stormy day in Ireland, fate is on my side. There are no other customers when I see Killian approaching.
I take off my apron and turn to the coffee machine, getting his usual ready. The bell rings above the door, as usual. But Killian rarely stands in the doorway, staring, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. I watch him in the reflection, shivers dancing up my thighs, over my cleavage.
When I finally turn, it’s impossible not to notice him staring at me. It’s like he can’t look away. His blues move to my cleavage, then my legs, and finally my face. I’m wearing more makeup than usual, a light layer which I hope brings out my features.
“What’s the special occasion?” he says, reaching for his coffee.
His hand brushes mine, but this time, he keeps it there. I keep my hand in place. Electricity sparks between us, heat coursing up my arm, pulsing through me as I try to act casual.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You look… hálainn .”
“Beautiful?” I whisper. “Really?”
He keeps his hand on mine. We can’t pretend this is an accident. He’s holding me like he’s going to pull me over the counter, sweep me into his arms, and crush me with a passionate kiss.
“Yes,” he says huskily. “Why are you all dressed up?”
“I thought I’d try to match my outfit to the Irish theme.”
“For a second, I was worried you wore that for your boyfriend.”
“You were worried about that, were you?” I say, feeling drunk.
But then he gets this panicked look on his face, like he’s suddenly realized what he’s doing. He pulls his hand away. “Who’s going to make the best coffee in town if you’re too busy with your boyfriend?”
What the heck is this? Does he want me to believe he only said that because I make him good coffee? I refuse to believe that. His words might lie, but he can’t mask the hunger in his eyes, the heaving in his chest. His eyes won’t stop flitting to my chest, to the ring pendant resting suggestively near my cleavage.
Another customer enters. As I serve them, Killian stands off to the side, his eyes never leaving me. My skin burns the longer he looks, like at any moment I’m going to catch fire under the pressure. When the customer leaves, I try to think what would Anna do.
It’s like climbing a mountain of nerves, but I do it. I lean against the counter and look up at him, loving how he seems unable to look away from me. “What are you still doing here, huh? Making sure my boyfriend doesn’t interrupt us?”
“So you do have a boyfriend?” he says fiercely.
“No,” I tell him.
I could add that I’ve never had one. I could say that, before he came along, I was fine with living an unromantic life.
He smooths his hand through his blonde almost silver-looking hair, looking like he’s on the edge of grabbing me and hauling me over the counter. There’s a tense energy in the air.
Then Clover yaps from the back.
“You have a dog?” he asks.
I nod. “She’s upstairs, usually…in the apartment. But she’s been under the weather.”
“Can I see her?”
“Sure,” I say, surprised and delighted.
When I gesture for him to walk around the counter, it feels like crossing a line. This feeling heats up when he follows me toward the back room, standing close the whole time, so close that if I stopped, he’d walk right into me. Maybe I’d be able to feel the hunger aching through his body.
Opening the door, I say, “She’s not always friendly with stra?—”
But I shouldn’t have said anything. Clover pads happily over to Killian. He leans down, smiling warmly at my little dog, tenderly stroking her over her little head. My heart swells as I watch him. Handsome, charming, and caring…
When Clover has decided she’s had enough, she prances off like a little princess.
Killian stands, looking down at me. “I should go,” he says.
I take a step forward, staring up at him, my lips tingling like he’s going to lean down and kiss me, like six months is going to erupt in this one sizzling moment.
“Oh,” I murmur.
He leans down, his breath touching mine… and then turns away. “I’ll, uh, see you soon.”
He walks quickly from the bakery like he can’t leave fast enough. I watch him go with an ache in my belly, thinking of all the things that could’ve been. But there’s also a thrill of victory coursing through me.
I can’t doubt it anymore. He wants me as badly as I want him, unless I massively misread that look in his eyes.
That night, I’m dreaming of a storm raging across the lush green Irish landscape. Only this time, I’m grown up and wearing the dress Killian liked so much. I’ve got my arms wrapped around him, and he’s buried his hands in my hips, holding me possessively as he pulls me in for a kiss…
I wake to a screeching noise, my apartment buzzer cutting through the perfection. Clover barks loudly as I peel my eyes open and look at the clock. Who’s ringing the buzzer at three AM? I let myself imagine it’s Killian. He’s been trying to fight his desire all day – all year – but he can’t take it anymore.
I go to the intercom, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Shane says, his voice gruff. “Open up.”
“Shane?” I murmur, hoping I’m wrong. If a mob goon, a thief, is showing up at my door at this time, it can’t be good.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he growls. “I’ll smash your goddamn windows and light this place on fire… and that’s before I give you some special treatment, too. Don’t push me, bitch .”
Shane has never been polite, obviously, but this is the most threatening he’s ever been. I think of another world, one in which I can tell him to go to hell, where I can bravely stand up to him. It crosses my mind to call the cops. But he’s said he has cop contacts, and he’ll know if I do that. What if he’s telling the truth?
I put on sweatpants and a hoodie and head downstairs. Shane stands at the door, his hand wrapped around a woman’s arm. She wears a revealing skirt, and a top that barely hides her bra. She looks terrified as she stares at the ground.
“We’re going to be staying with you a while,” he grunts, pushing his way into the apartment’s entrance.
“What?” I hiss. “No – you can’t. Who is she? Is she your prisoner?”
With one hand still on the woman, he reaches into his jacket and takes out a pistol. Fear paralyzes me. Everything freezes. I struggle to accept what’s happening as I stare down the barrel of the gun.
“That’s the last time you tell me what I can and can’t do,” he growls. “I visited this apartment when your mommy was alive. I know you’ve got two bedrooms. We’re staying.”
He prods me with the gun, the barrel cold against my forehead.
“Uh, uh, yes,” I say, my voice a croak of pure terror. “Okay. Um. Oh, God.”
“Keep it together,” he snarls. “You won’t even know we’re here. Just keep your goddamn mouth shut and maybe you’ll make it out of this alive.”