Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Mac
I sit at the bar beside a pair of redheads. Sisters, maybe? But they don’t even turn my head. I nurse a Guinness and think of Bryn.
Bryn doesn’t want me to buy her a drink. Smart girl. She doesn’t know me. She’ll be here soon anyway.
“Hello,” one of the redheads says. “Too lost in your dreamworld to hear someone talking to you, handsome?”
Both of the girls break into laughter, and I shake my head.
“Maybe I am,” I say, facing them. “Did you say something?”
“Aye,” one says. “Wondered if you were looking to hit the dance floor.”
I shake my head. “No thanks, ladies. I’m waiting on someone.”
One sighs, rolling her eyes at the other one. “See? Told you. He’s taken.”
Taken. It’s the first time in my life anyone’s ever used that word to describe me.
They leave.
“She’d better get here soon,” the bartender says with a teasing grin. “Next time at least bring a wingman, eh? Bloody handsome bloke like you ought not to be sitting alone at the bar. Those women are vultures, I tell you. Vultures.”
There was a time when that’d amuse or flatter me, but not tonight. Instead, I’m scoping the exits, the doorways, and plotting how I’ll get Bryn alone or away from her bodyguard. If I can’t do it here, I’ll find a way when we leave the pub and head to the restaurant.
I text William.
Mac: Where is she now?
He’s tracking her, and on standby for anything I need.
William: She’s at the door.
I feel the anticipation in my belly at seeing her again, but I ignore it. I’m here on a mission, and nothing will hold me back from that.
Mac: Excellent, thanks. Do me a favor and scope the exits at the restaurant. Find out what her bodyguard drives.
I slide my mobile in my pocket and turn casually, half-facing the door so I don’t look like I’m too eager, or stalking her, even though that’s exactly what I’m fucking doing. I see her walk past the window as I take another pull from my pint. The door opens, and she walks in.
Holy Mother of God, she looks fucking amazing.
I’m not sure I can even recall what she was wearing earlier today, but I can guarantee you every bloke in this room notices her now. To be honest, if she were mine, really, truly mine? I wouldn't ever allow her to leave dressed like that.
If she were mine, she’d never fucking leave the house. Even as it is, I want her all to myself.
Her hair’s piled on her head in loops and curls, and she wears elegant, ivory pearl earrings and a matching necklace.
Classy and gorgeous. She wears a shimmery white dress, iridescent in the overhead light with barely-there glimmers of purple and pink, that hits several inches above her knee.
She wears spiky heels and carries a little bag by her side so tightly, I wonder if she’s self-conscious, or nervous.
She’s a stunning blend of classic and sexy that makes me fucking lose my mind. I imagine dropping to one knee, putting a ring on her finger, and claiming her in every fucking way I can so no one else ever touches her.
Jesus.
For one moment, I totally forget my purpose.
Vengeance for my family is the furthest thing from my mind.
I want to make every man in this room know that she belongs to me.
I don’t want them to look at her, speak to her, or be anywhere near her.
I get up to meet her, to show anyone who looks her way that she’s bloody taken.
I want her all to myself.
She sees me a moment after I see her. For one brief moment, she gets an odd look on her face I can’t quite place, and she hesitates for a fraction of a minute.
Then her eyes look down, almost bashfully, and when she looks back up to me, she’s smiling.
I meet her halfway, take her hand, and kiss her cheek.
“Hello, there,” she says. I gesture to the barstool.
“I’d pull it out for you so I can be all gentlemanly polite, but these buggers won’t move,” I mutter. I can’t deny that I’m pleased to see her again.
“I believe you,” she says with a smile. “Have you been waiting long?”
Her voice is warmed honey, soothing and sweet, and I want to hear her talk all night long.
“Just got here. What’s your drink?”
“Glass of chianti,” she says, holding herself erect on the barstool.
I nod to the bartender, who pushes a tall glass in our direction.
“Didn’t guess you were a wine girl,” I say, and it’s not because I guessed it, but because I know exactly what she drinks on the rare occasion she’s out with friends: hard cider or craft beer. Is the wine for show, then?
“Oh?” she asks, giving me a curious look. “What else have you already guessed about me?”
Now this is an easy question. The only trouble is, I have to give just enough real information for her to think I’m observant or perceptive, but not a danger to her.
I’m all of the above.
“Hmm. Let me think,” I say, pretending to mull it over. “Well, first of all, I know you're a vegetarian. So I’ll hazard a guess you’re health-conscious. Maybe you like to start the day with yoga, or… meditation or something like.”
She smiles. “Something like.”
“I’m guessing you have older siblings. Maybe you're the youngest in the family. Maybe a little sheltered, but like a typical youngest, maybe a little… wild. You like things adventurous and exciting, and you don’t love being told what to do.”
She smiles, but there’s reservation in her gaze. “Impressive, Mac.”
I have to throw her off.
“You think the tree-huggers are fuckin’ mental.”
She rolls her eyes, a dead giveaway.
I take another sip from my pint before answering.
“Ok, then, missed the mark there.” It was on purpose, but she doesn’t have to know that.
“You’re eco-conscious. You don’t like landfills or waste, and think it’s a shame with as many resources that we have that we’re still allowing rain forests to be polluted, children to be left in orphanages, and the poor to die of hunger. ”
She sips her wine, and this time doesn’t meet my eyes, but only nods and gives me a demure smile.
“I was expecting you to say something like, ‘You like walks in the rain and chocolate over vanilla.’ I didn't expect you to jump right into the philosophical so quickly, but it's entertaining, so please do continue.”
“So am I onto something?”
“I will neither confirm nor deny.”
I laugh at that. She’s fucking adorable.
“You have a small friend group. You’re fiercely loyal, and won’t share your deepest secrets with just anyone.
You're a bit hard to get to know. It’ll take some time to really understand you, and maybe sometimes you even wonder if you know yourself.
But when you do find a friend who’s loyal and kind, and really understands you, you're the best friend a girl could have.”
“You flatter me.”
“I’m not sure how much of what I said was flattering, but I do wonder if it’s true.”
“I suppose you’ll know in time, then?”
I nod and finish my pint. “Alright, then. Let’s hear your guesses about me.”
She smiles. “Let’s see. You know about things most men I know are ignorant about, so I'm guessing that’s because you have sisters.
I already know you love your mum, because you picked up her favorite treats in town.
I'm not sure how you feel about your father, but you bristle whenever I mention him, so I'm going to guess like most men of your age, you're not super into a relationship with your dad. "
Accurate. All of it.
She’s unapologetic in her delivery and sips her wine before continuing.
“You mentioned brothers, but given your own rather jovial nature, I’m going to guess they’re older as well. You’re big and strong, so I'm also going to guess that your brothers had a hand in boxing, weightlifting, or some other sporty type thing with you. Football?”
She goes on before I can reply.
“You're a hard worker.” She places her wine down and reaches for my hand, nestling it between hers. Heat rises in my chest when she touches me, and her own heavier breathing makes me wonder if she feels the same.
“I can tell by the calluses on your palms, and a few other things that you've said, that when you put your mind to something, you get it.
I'm not sure what you do for work, but whatever it is, you put yourself fully into it.
I would guess that you're also loyal. There's just something about you that makes me think that it's in your nature.” She smiles softly.
“You like a good time." She drops her head, and a sultry smile comes over her lips. Her voice is just above a whisper. "Especially sex.” She gives me a wink. “One might even say you’re a bit of a player.”
I finish my pint with a snort. “Well, that’s not that perceptive. Any red-blooded man will say that.”
She laughs. “And any red-blooded woman! Honestly, you men think you’re the only ones that enjoy sex?”
We’ve caught the attention of the bartender, but I don’t bloody care.
I lean toward her, brushing my thumb across the top of her hand that lies casually on the bar. “I’ll tell you what, Bryn.” I lower my voice so she has to lean in to hear me. “If I got you alone, I’d absolutely prove you wrong.”
She takes such a big chug of wine, she half-empties her glass. “Wrong about what?”
I grin at her. “That men don’t think women enjoy sex.” I lean in even closer, my mouth to her ear. “And if I had you alone, even if you didn’t enjoy sex, you would when I was done with you.”
She touches her fingers to her throat and swallows hard. “Oh?”
“Oh.”
I nod and raise my hand for the tab.
“Tell you what, I’m famished. Let’s get something to eat?”
The bartender brings over the tab, and I hand him cash.
“Yes, I’d love that. Where to?”
“I’ve got a specific place in mind. But first, how did you get here tonight, and where’s your bodyguard?”
“Drove on my own,” she says with a sigh. “And he’s out there, waiting. I’m sure he’s got us on his radar one way or another.”
I shrug. “I can deal with that. Just taking you for dinner.”
She nods. “Fair enough.”