Chapter 41
forty-one
BéBHINN
Why me? Why now? Bébhinn hadn’t seen Harold Milton since the day she’d broken things off. She’d blamed it on her father’s passing—sorry, Dad. The truth was that she’d finally admitted to herself that she felt little to nothing for him.
It still annoyed her that her first sexual partner was a man who was little more than a friend with benefits and very few benefits to boot.
She didn’t dare look at Dagr, who was probably smirking over both of them getting cornered by exes not even two hours apart.
“What a surprise,” she finally got out, setting her drink on the table to offer her hand in a shake.
Not taking the hint, Harry swooped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest, briefly thank God, but he unfortunately kissed her cheek before he straightened.
“I’ve been thinking of you for months.” He took her hand, asking, “Can I take you for a drink? You can tell me what’s been happening in your life since I’ve graduated and moved from town.”
She barely managed not to roll her eyes. He’d only graduated the year before for the love of God, yet he acted like he was an old working man, used to the grind. “Feck off,” as her great-gran, Nan, would say.
“Not much to tell, I’m afraid.” Take the bloody hint, bro. No catchups required.
“I have so much to tell you too.”
He clearly took her hint like an ostrich with its head buried in the sand. When he slid his arm around her waist and she felt his hot fingers splaying across her bare skin, she was about to tell her ex to take a hike when another voice joined the conversation.
“I’m afraid, young man, that Bébhinn and I are here together. Very much together,” Dagr added as he forcibly removed Harry’s hand from her waist and pulled her into his side.
She was amused at his antics, not so dissimilar to her own with Lauren. She played along and smiled, kissing the edge of his mouth. She smelled the whiskey on his breath when his lips parted in surprise. Despite the venue and the audience, she wanted to move the kiss to his lips. Desperately.
Their eyes met as she pulled back. It was intense and knowing, lust soared through her middle at the feel of his hand tightening on her waist.
Returning to the conversation, she cleared her throat and looked back at Harry, who was clearly unhappy with what he saw.
“I suppose that’s the biggest and only news worth sharing, Harry.
Dagr and I are very happy.” Not a lie. She was very happy standing next to him.
“I hope you have a special someone that I can meet someday. It was great seeing you. Maybe Dag and I can meet up with you again. We meet here or Dublin all the time.” God, please, hear me out. I’m usually not such a big liar.
Harry’s face pinkened, but finally, he stepped back an appropriate distance, nodding his head in agreement.
She would have felt bad about Harry’s obvious discomfort, but they’d been broken up for nine months.
He should have known better than to think they would step back into a relationship after one chance encounter.
Despite Dagr staking his claim, Harry was brave enough to say, “I’m glad I got to see you. I’ve missed you, Bébhinn.” He flicked his eyes once to Dagr before adding, “Call me. Anytime.”
She was thankful Lee was still with them and broke the tense silence Harry’s parting words had left them in.
“The past can be so inconvenient to our present, can’t it?” he asked, chuckling.
At the same time, she and Dagr answered, “Very,” and “Yes.” A moment later, Lee said his goodbyes and moved on to another group of acquaintances, leaving them alone.
She held up her glass of Jameson and proposed a toast. “Here’s to not seeing another ex tonight.”
“To not seeing another ex, ever. Cheers,” Dagr countered, clinking their glasses.
“Quite an evening.” She smiled and bumped his side with her elbow. Despite the interruptions, she was enjoying the evening. She was here with Dagr, and he had yet to loosen the arm wrapped around her waist.
When he didn’t come back with an amusing retort, she glanced up at his profile. He appeared to be watching someone across the room, and when she followed his line of sight, she found Harry deep in conversation with a group of men and women.
“How long were you two together?”
His tone was serious. Could he be jealous? “Oh, umm, less than a year. It wasn’t serious or at least not as serious as it should have been,” she corrected.
“What happened?” He finally pulled his gaze from Harry and let his hand slide across her back until they faced one another. He looked embarrassed for asking, and added, “You don’t have to say. I’m being incredibly rude and nosy.”
“I told him I couldn’t handle a relationship while I was dealing with my feelings about my father’s passing.”
“And was that the real reason?”
“Am I speaking to Solicitor Griffiths?” she asked, but grinned to let him know she was teasing.
He winced at the playful reprimand. “Sorry,” he shook his head and chuckled, “you’re right. Forget I asked. It’s just the way you worded why you broke up sounded like it wasn’t the real reason.”
“It wasn’t,” she tapped the top of his hand that now rested on the table by their drinks, “which makes you correct. As heartless as this might make me sound, he just wasn’t it for me, and I knew it. I did as Dad always advised, and ‘cut my losses.’”
“Sound.”
“Finish your drink, Mr. Griffiths, and take me to the dance floor. I didn’t get all dressed up to be hidden in a corner,” she teased—and yes, flirted.
He threw back the remainder of his shot and held his hand out for her to grasp. “I despise any other man looking at you, but I won’t deny you a dance, Miss O’Faolain.”
She was thrilled that he admitted that he didn’t want anyone else to look at her and was more than delighted when he bent to kiss the side of her mouth as she had his.
She wanted more than that, and after tonight, she believed he did too.
The dance turned out to be just another gathering place for business talk, but she hardly minded. She was held tightly to Dagr’s body, moving to a slow beat. She had her hands resting on his chest, and his hands were both flattened against the naked skin of her back.
In between the mini, impromptu dance floor meetings, Dagr leaned down and whispered, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here.” He’d kept his ear close to her head, and she was able to whisper back. “Could I talk you into leaving, grabbing some greasy takeout, and going back to your place?”
“Easily.”
Changed into sweatshorts and a loose t-shirt, Bébhinn finished the last bite of possibly the most decadent burger she’d ever been treated to. “Mmm,” she said for the tenth time, wiping the last of the over-easy egg yolk from her chin.
Leaning back, she patted her satisfied belly. Thank goodness she worked out regularly because tonight’s caloric intake had to be astronomical.
She and Dagr were comfortably sprawled on the living room couch, happily watching Gordon Ramsay lose his shit and slam his hand down in the middle of a stone-cold halibut.
Once all the takeout trash was set aside, Dagr and she reclined side-by-side. She felt ridiculously juvenile, hoping his hand would find her hand. If she were honest, she hoped his lower bits would find hers, too, but she would take the glancing brush of a finger at this point.
She told herself not to, but she shifted just that little bit more so that their arms were completely touching. A breath later, he covered her hand with his, where it lay between their legs. She suppressed a sigh at the contact.
She kept her eyes trained on the screen even when he flipped her hand over and began rubbing circles in her palm. She could have moaned it felt so good.
“Bébhinn.”
He only said her name, but he had her full attention.