Chapter 6
six
CIAR
Ciar stood panting in sweaty exhaustion in the gym’s mammoth showers. He and Jonathan had just finished a sparring session with the owner’s brother, who was a retired boxer that still trained a few clients.
The brutal workout was just the mind-numbing activity to force his brain from the message he’d received earlier from Gray. The first one she’d sent him since that dinner travesty almost two weeks ago.
He still wanted to slam his head against the cool tile over and over so his outside looked as screwed up as the inside of his head felt.
His life had become nothing but work and working out, with a side obsession of texting a woman who didn’t return any of them, until now.
Silence would have been preferable.
Ciar: I’m not taking no for an answer. Blair said you would be home tonight. You will see me.
Gray: I have plans when I get back to town, but I will see you at breakfast at the O’Faolains’ tomorrow morning.
I don’t need your apologies. I assumed something that wasn’t, and that’s on me.
I have made some changes to the pub’s business plan and have some final questions for you while we’re on holiday.
I can finish a plan easily after that. See you tomorrow.
She had shut him out completely with five sentences. Screw that. He wasn’t letting her walk away without a fight.
He would see her.
He would make her listen.
“Jesus, Ciar,” Jonathan groused, “what the hell has been up your ass lately?” Jonathan asked as he stripped out of his clothes and walked into the multi-headed steam shower where Ciar currently leaned, arms crossed and brooding.
“Work.” It was his go-to answer for any bad mood his friends had called him out on over the last week.
“Bullshit. You don’t have to tell me or Dan, but Christ man, you know we’d listen to you and do whatever to help.”
Ciar felt his face heat, which was a rarity for him.
He was as close as brothers with Daniel and Jonathan, but for some reason, it still took him by surprise how open they were with their feelings.
They weren’t all hugs and kisses, but they were solid, real friends, and they didn’t mind letting him know.
“Thank you, but I’ll figure my shit out.” At Jon’s steady stare, he added, “If I can’t, I’ll let you know.”
That seemed to satisfy his friend, and he moved on to talk of the upcoming trip and the fact that everyone decided to go out for a drink together later since Gray was back in town.
“Say what now?” Ciar asked as he swiped shampoo bubbles from his face.
“Yeah, Mags told Daniel. Well, she said to meet them or not. She didn’t give a shit. Typical of the wee shite.”
It had always amused Ciar as a kid that Daniel, Jonathan, and Bébhinn said just as many Irish sayings as American since their parents were a mix of both.
Without letting on to too much interest, he said, “Mags is something else. So, is Gray going? I wondered if she was fully recovered.”
“She’s right as rain now. The girls said she looked pale on their video chat, but she said she felt great. Everyone’s packing tonight and then meeting at your da’s.”
“I’m down for a pint.” And cornering a stubborn, gray-eyed girl.
Ciar was at the bar bullshitting with his old man while keeping one eye firmly on the front doors. Blair and Mags already had a table, and Daniel and Jonathan walked in not two minutes ago, nodding in his direction.
Dagr and Bébhinn were stepping through, and Ciar felt his body stiffen as Bébhinn said something over her shoulder, laughing at whatever the person behind her said.
There she was, golden waves, gray eyes, and the most stunning pair of long legs he’d ever seen on a woman. Gray MacGregor.
“Christ, boy, you’ve got it bad,” his dad said, punching him in the shoulder.
Ciar rubbed his offended appendage, already sore from boxing. “What are you going on about?” he asked, never taking his eyes from Gray.
He’d never seen a more beautiful woman. Never. Not to mention she was kind and crazy smart. She was way too good for him, but he was still going to try for her. She hadn’t let him explain about that damned dinner yet, where he was entirely in the wrong, but she would.
“Don’t start with me, Dad,” he warned.
“Gray…well, your uncle and I always wondered. She giving you the runaround?”
He had too much respect for his father to lie. “She has her reasons. I fucked up.”
Mags must have said something funny, and the table erupted in laughter. Gray laughed, her eyes were twinkling, but damn if she didn’t look tired. He wished he could have taken care of her while she battled her sickness.
“Well then,” his father said grimly, “I expect you’ll make it right.”
“Count on it.” Ciar pushed off from the bar and headed in the table’s direction. There was only one spot left on the long bench, which happened to be next to his obsession.
Her eyes caught his, her mouth rounded in a silent O before smoothing into indifference. She was as indifferent to him as he was to her.
He slid into the empty spot, making sure to take up all the remaining room so that their thighs were fused. He set his iced vodka on the smooth hardwood top.
“Fancy finding you rabble here. How goes the buyout, Griffiths?”
“I’m satisfied with the progress. The London office will take a bit of sorting, but my partner is more than capable. We plan to take on cases in both cities that align with our specialties. Our teams love a good challenge.”
“Did you fire the crazy cunt you screwed in the office?” Mags asked all innocent inquiry.
“Mags, you bitch. I told you that in confidence,” Bébhinn hissed.
“Sure, but I like to keep things real, and you’re my best friend and shouldn’t have to wonder.”
Face flaming, Dagr admitted, “Another law firm found her an acceptable position.”
Bébhinn looked surprised by the news. “Really,” she whispered, even though the table heard.
“Nothing and no one comes before your happiness, baby.” Dagr was smooth. Ciar would give him that.
“How are you feeling, Gray?” Ciar turned his attention to the woman doing her level best not to move. “I texted you while you were in Scotland. Did you not get them?” He knew he was playing with fire, but with Gray, he couldn’t help himself.
Under the table, Gray pinched the top of this leg. Before she could pull away, he flattened her hand on his thigh and held on tight enough that she couldn’t yank free without making a scene.
“I’m much better,” she gritted out. “I did get your messages. Thank you for your concern. Today is the first day I’ve felt well enough to respond to everyone. I’m starving after days of puking my guts up. Who wants a starter?”
Conversation started again, but as he scanned the table, Blair, who was sitting in the corner of the booth, had her eyes trained on him. She propped her menu against the napkin dispenser and quickly signed, “So, you’re the naked selfie guy.”
Oh shit. Gray told Blair about the pictures. Not who it was, though, but Blair was one of the cleverest people he’d ever met. She kept his attention another moment, long enough to sign, “Be careful.”
Ciar gave the tiny redhead a slight nod. He had no doubt that she would call in the big guns if he hurt her friend, and the big gun would be strapped to Thomas MacGregor’s thigh.
“Let me out, Ciar. I need to use the restroom,” Gray whispered and gave his side a small poke with her elbow.
Loudly, he replied, “Me too. I’ll walk with you.” To the table, he said, “Order me and Gray the crab cake bites.” It was a test of his acting skills not to smile at the fuming woman shoving him out of her way as she exited the booth.
They walked in silence to the back, but instead of letting her go into the women’s room, he grasped her upper arm and propelled her to the door just past the restrooms. Punching in the security code, he pulled her in behind him and shut the door fast.
Swinging her around until her back was pressed to the wooden storage door, he growled, “Now, Miss MacGregor, you’re going to listen to what I have to say whether you want to or not.”
Her “I want to” threw off the righteous anger he’d been building.
“Well, good then.” Real cool, Murphy.
“That dinner was business.” At her disbelieving snort, he added, “It was business to me. My boss set it up weeks ago. The office is about to land one of the biggest, most lucrative clients we’ve ever had.
Daria was the client’s daughter. Anders leaves nothing to chance, and if he thought me wining and dining that idiot woman would give us a leg up in negotiations, he wasn’t above taking it.
“Or at least having me take it. It was business, Gray. Damn it,” his palms slapped the door on each side of her body, “I fucked up. I should have told you I had to take a woman out. I should have told you that I would never touch another woman as long as I thought I had even the barest chance of having you.”
When he finished his speech, they were both breathing heavy, their lips almost touching, their heaving chests brushing.
He let his hands slide down the door until he had her hips in his grasp. She placed her hands on his chest and leaned forward until her breath tickled his ear.
“I believe you, but business or pleasure, no woman would ever touch what is mine. I stood there and watched her lay a possessive hand on you, and you did nothing to stop her.
“I’m worth more than that. I’m a MacGregor, Ciar. I’m no one’s second best.”
With that shocking announcement, she shoved his chest. The unexpected move caused him to stumble back, allowing her to open the door behind her and escape.
“Well, fuck me.”