Chapter 2
ASH
B ased on my work experience thus far and my God-given talents, I should either be a kindergarten teacher, a race car driver or a mob hitman.
Instead, I’m “Undecided” when it comes to a college major.
So, I’m basically wasting my brother’s money on a prestigious university when I should’ve taken another gap year to figure out what I want to do with my life.
Right now, what I want to do is drink and dance—albeit badly—all night at my favorite cousin’s wedding.
I’m especially happy because he married my friend, Sawyer.
That’s one good thing about being at Granthorpe University.
Sawyer and I were paired up as dorm roommates and realized how great we get along.
I have no rhythm, which is annoying. Fortunately, the reception is so much fun I don’t care. I love being in Ireland, surrounded by extended family we don’t see enough of.
Bumping into a cute, red-haired groomsmen nearly sends me sprawling.
Both he and the glowering War, grab an arm to keep me from falling.
I shake them off, smiling only at Red. War’s dancing with some Nordic supermodel-looking girl who I kind of hate.
What the hell is she even doing here? She’s not one of Jamie’s sisters and doesn’t seem to be the date of any of his groomsmen or school mates.
Would I be bothered if she weren’t flirting all over War? No, I’d have introduced myself and made another Irish friend, which I feel no one can have enough of.
I accidentally—not really—step on War’s foot as I march past him.
“Girl,” he mutters in a warning tone.
Dropping into an empty chair between my brother Scott and my sister Kat, I lean back and smirk.
“Neither of you is gonna dance with your date?” I demand, sliding Kat’s whiskey glass in front a me.
I take a swig and make a face. Whiskey is not my favorite.
“I don’t even have a date, and I’m dancing. ”
“We know,” Kat says. “We’ve had the complaints.”
Scott laughs, then pinches my earlobe fondly. “Don’t listen to her. That Wednesday Addams dance rendition is gonna go viral. Your fifteen minutes of fame is coming up.”
Sucking in a gasp, I smack him in the ribs. “I wasn’t doing the Wednesday dance!”
Scott takes a drink of his Jack and Coke and says, “On that, we’re gonna disagree, baby.”
I laugh in spite of myself. As usual.
In terms of looks, all three of us take after our mom, but I’m the only one who got Mom’s blond hair.
The thing we got from our dad is our sense of humor.
Kat’s is the most dry, and the most barbed when it’s directed at me.
She’s dead funny though, even when she’s letting me have it.
I try not to let on that I find her hilarious, because I want her to think I’m as cool as she is. Which will never happen.
Kat finishes her whiskey and rises. She’s wearing a sleek dark teal maxi dress and bone-colored booties.
It’s an outfit I sent to her because Scott has made me the family’s personal shopper.
Kathleen and I don’t usually discuss this.
I know she thinks it’s ridiculously bougie for Scott to shell out money for designer outfits as though we’re celebrity heiresses or something.
“That dress is cracker, Ashling,” Kat says. “If you’d just stood still and stayed off the dance floor, you might have gotten a date with one of Jamie’s mates. Now, there’s no chance, unless one of them goes blind from drink and doesn’t realize which girl he’s got on his hands.”
“Hey, Kat?” I beckon her closer, which she ignores, and then flip her my middle finger from behind a cupped other hand so our mom and aunt who are nearby can’t see what I’m doing.
Kat smiles. “As charming as you are graceful.”
I stick my tongue out at her as she’s walking away. My phone rings with an incoming video call. Seeing that it’s a guy I may not want to talk to, I frown, brows pinching together.
Crosby Bergmann’s a GU power lifter with an infectious laugh and a personality big enough to rival his biceps.
But the red flags have been piling up lately, and he was downright pissed when I refused to bring him to my cousin’s wedding as my plus one.
This, despite the fact that he got into a fight with Jamie when he found me with him at a pub and didn’t realize he was a relative.
Yeah, giant flaming red flag for unwarranted possessiveness.
I know if I don’t pickup, he’ll just call back over and over until I do, which causes me to swipe green. “Hey.”
“Hey, beautiful, how was the wedding?”
“Gorgeous. How could it not be given the couple?” I say with a genuine smile.
Red flags aside, I like the easy confident way he has of flirting. A lot of guys are weirdly awkward, and since I’m not super smooth on the romance front myself, it’s nice to be around a guy who makes flirting easy.
“They’re good-looking, all right.” He flashes a smile, his full lips separating to show off a gleaming white smile a shark would envy. “You wearing the ring? ”
Crosby got me an Irish ring as a Christmas present, which was crazy presumptuous since I’m not his girlfriend.
“Nah,” I say. “It doesn’t match my dress as well as these little ones.” I hold up my hand to show a stack of slim gold rings with small rectangular emeralds and round peridots. “Green for my birthday and for Ireland. How’s it going there?”
“Nothing more Irish than a Claddagh ring, and the blue matches your eyes. You should wear it. You took it with you, right?”
“It’s up in my room.”
“Let’s see the room.”
I roll my eyes. He tried video-calling in the middle of the night last night. He’d like to see me naked and ease us into cybersex. For a lot of reasons, I didn’t pick up.
“Oh, hey, I’ve gotta go. It’s cake time,” I lie.
“My sweet tooth has been gearing up for this all day. Talk later.” After I end the call and flip my phone over, I glance at my brother who’s staring at where my hand rests on top of it.
I raise my hand and twist it to make the rings sparkle.
“This little stack of rings is my favorite thing I got for Christmas. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome, but I can’t take the credit. Laurelyn picked them out.”
“Yeah, but you paid.” I put my fingers against my cheek and wiggle them. “So, thanks go to you both.”
“Who’s the guy?”
“His name is Crosby Bergmann. He’s been chasing me since school started.” I grab my satin clutch and dig through it. Pulling out the sapphire-and-gold ring, I hold it up.
“Why’s he buying you a ring?”
“Cuz I’m cute and mostly ringless, I guess.”
“You keepin’ it?”
“I like it.” Staring at the ring, I wrinkle my nose. “But I don’t know. I liked him a lot when I first met him, but he can be a jerk.”
Scott’s gaze sharpens. “To you? ”
“Not exactly. But in my vicinity.”
“Hmm.” Scott shifts his attention to his wife, who looks stunning in a sea foam green dress as she approaches. “Sounds like you know what to do with that ring.”
“I could keep it and wear it with the heart facing out. No one says I have to wear it the way he wants me to.”
Scott rolls his eyes, giving me a skeptical glance. My brother knows me, so he knows I’m not keeping an expensive ring that clearly comes with strings attached.
I lick my tingling lips. I’m well drunk on champagne and shots of Grand Marnier. “I should have a ring like this because I’m a hundred percent Irish.”
“Since when?” Scott’s gaze returns to Laurelyn. He’s obsessed with his gorgeous wife. And who can blame him?
I love seeing it, actually. Their relationship gives me hope.
“Mom and Dad are both Irish,” I continue, making a pointless argument. “So you, me, and Kathleen, Irish, too.” I wrinkle my nose at him. “I mean… We’re American, of course. But inside, we’re Irish by blood.”
“If you want a Claddagh, one of us will buy you one for your birthday.”
“No, it’s not that.” I purse my lips, restless annoyance bubbling up.
Scott stands. “Well, make up your mind, baby.” Before he walks off, he touches the top of my head lightly, just the way he does with his little boys.
That gesture, at least, makes me happy. I’m crazy about my family.
It’s the main reason I don’t feel ridiculously lonely over not having a steady boyfriend for so long.
What I really want is to roll back the clock to a time when I liked my nice, safe dorky high school boyfriends. Back when life made sense. Now I seem to get attracted to aggressive, muscle-bound guys with jerk tendencies.
“Get up,” a deep voice says from over my shoulder.
Looking back, I discover War looming over me. Speak of the devil. He’s the embodiment of wrath and dark power, like Morgoth from Lord of The Rings .
Licking my lips, I shrug. “Why would I?”
His big hand grabs the back of my chair and pulls it away from the table, and me with it. “Don’t test me. I’m not in the mood.”
“What is your damage?” I hiss. “Me and some kids—who are legit adorable, by the way, to anyone except a cyborg—accidentally woke you up one time . It was the middle of the day, War. So what if you were up all night? Get over yourself. I stay up all night on the regular and don’t complain if something disturbs my mid-afternoon beauty nap.
Though, truth be told, I must be getting much more of that than you because…
” I tap a fingernail to my cheekbone. “I’m pretty cute on two hours sleep, whereas you?—”
One massive bear paw closes around my upper arm and pulls me out of my chair. Snaking an arm around my waist, he lifts me right off the floor, exhibiting no effort at all. Jesus Christ. Those muscles aren’t for show. He is really freaking strong.
With one flex of his arm, my body slams into his, and he carries me out into the hall.
Outside the ballroom, he sets me down but grabs my upper arm to keep me from escaping.