Chapter 14
CHELSEA
Oh God. This was absolutely a terrible idea. My heart beat hard, my pulse throbbing in my throat.
Joyce pointed to the flowers.
“Look at what Ms. Kelly brought us! Aren’t they gorgeous?”
Seamus frowned, never taking his eyes off me.
Was he confused about why I was here? Maybe he’d brushed aside the whole incident.
Or maybe—somehow—I’d built it up to something it wasn’t?
Maybe, I thought wildly, he’d just been trying to comfort me, give me a hug.
Maybe he’d just breathed on my neck and I’d stupidly assumed it was something more.
Jude thrust his hand out toward Seamus. “Hey dude!”
Seamus looked down at Jude’s hand, confused.
The two of them knew each other—Jude used to tag along with him and Eli when he was a little kid, always wanting to hang out with the older boys.
I remembered a moment now with sudden clarity, me at the kitchen table drawing, Seamus at the door to get Eli.
Seamus looking at my drawings and then at me.
Jude coming out behind Eli, asking if he could go too.
Seamus giving me a kind smile, while my brothers only hollered and elbowed.
“Thanks for helping Chels again,” Jude said.
Seamus glanced at me once again and I had to fight not to suck in a breath.
Something hot and quiet passed between us.
Any lingering doubts that I’d made up the shift that had happened between us the other day—that I was reading into things more than I should be—vanished.
I could see in his eyes that he was thinking about exactly what had happened between us.
That even though he had helped me—saved me—it was negated by what he thought he’d done in that back room.
With the intensity of his gaze, all the feelings of that moment came flooding to me, fast this time.
Along with the truth: I’d wanted every second of what happened between us.
I wanted so much more.
I had to tear my eyes away, biting my cheek to force myself to focus. This wasn’t part of the plan. How could I get my life together if I’d suddenly caught feelings for Eli’s best friend? Moving forward meant figuring me out. Not me and someone else.
Seamus nodded at Jude. “Of course.”
Had an eternity passed? Or only a second?
“I’m so sorry Jamie isn’t here. He’d love to see these. He’s dealing with a venue problem for our party coming up soon, and won’t let me help.” She tsked.
Venue problem—those were words I was familiar with.
I clung to the turn in conversation. “What’s the issue?
” This was something I could grasp hold of and maybe actually be useful about.
Something that took the spotlight off this crackling tension I was sure the others could sense, if not see, somehow.
“He’d booked the Elk’s club, but last night they had some kind of flooding damage. They think they might have to tear down the hall!”
Joyce was shaking her head woefully.
“Oh shit,” Jude said, indelicately. “What’s the party?”
Joyce explained how it was a celebration of them being in business for 30 years. “And I’ve been here since the very start,” Joyce said, with no small bit of pride. “Through every up and down.”
“30 years, shit. Why don’t they have it at the resort?” Jude glanced at me. “Chels is the event planner.”
“Not right now,” I said. “I’m not back until mid-November. But I can definitely ask if it’s available,” I offered. “And pull strings if it’s not. It’s the least I could do.” I could also insist we could comp the use of our facility for the Reillys.
But Seamus shook his head. “Thank you. But Dad was clear he wanted this to be reflective of the business—a more intimate family type gathering and not a…” He hesitated.
“A fancy resort,” I supplied.
He nodded, looking relieved I wasn’t insulted. “Yeah.”
I understood. Seamus’s dad wanted people to feel comfortable, and not like they needed to be in black tie. All their trades and subcontractors would be there. My mind was already running with the possibilities, and I realized I missed this part of the event job.
As Jude launched into a story about the most lavish party he’d been to when he was in Paris, I thought once again about my old job when I lived in Martha’s Vineyard.
We’d planned parties all over the place, so there was a ton of variety.
Weddings, which I loved doing, had been everywhere, from farmhouses to the beach.
We did small birthdays and giant corporate celebrations.
Working for my family’s resort was great.
I had the stability of location, in-house catering, and I was the boss.
But it had been stressful too, and I’d burned off steam by going out and losing myself after hours.
“I’d be happy to help,” I said, cutting into Jude’s story. He’d go on all day if I let him. “Just ask him to call me.”
“My goodness, that would be wonderful!” Joyce said. “Seamus, will you give your dad Chelsea’s number?”
Seamus opened his mouth, but I spoke. “Seamus doesn’t have my number. But if you have a pen?”
I jotted down my number on the message pad Joyce had handed to me. When I was done, she traded me for a cardstock flyer. “This is both of them. If you think of anything.”
“Joyce—” Seamus said.
“No.” I gripped the card. “This is good.” On the front was a photo of Seamus and his doppelg?nger father, one young and one old, both handsome and looking like they didn’t particularly like having their photo taken.
On the backside was all the contact info—both of their office and cell numbers, the office email, website…
“I’m excited to have something to plan, honestly. ”
Joyce smiled at me, clearly delighted at the connection. Then she turned her attention back to Jude, who was snapping his hand and bouncing it against his palm, ever the happy-go-lucky Jude. “Okay, but then what happened?” she asked him.
While Jude hopped right back into his anecdote, I slipped the card in my bag.
Seamus was still staring at the slip of paper Joyce had handed him.
The one with my number on it.
Oh God, did he think this whole visit was some kind of ruse for me to get my number in his hands? But it had been Joyce’s idea. Still, I suddenly felt awkward as anything. “Can you give that to your dad?” I asked. It was for him, after all.
Joyce let out a peal of laughter at Jude’s story, and Jude leaned on the counter, thrilled to have an audience.
Seamus folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. He didn’t answer my question. Instead, he said, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
My stomach plunged. But what could I say, no? That we were late for lunch? I knew Jude didn’t care about that, but what would he think about me going to the back with Seamus?
But Jude wasn’t Eli, not by a long shot. He didn’t think he knew what was best for me. Besides, he was so absorbed in his story I could tell him there was an elephant I needed to see to and he wouldn’t even blink.
“Uh, sure,” I said to Seamus. “Jude,” I interrupted. “We’ll be right back.”
Jude waved absently. “But Joyce, darlin’, you’ll never guess who was behind that curtain…”
Joyce clapped her hands together. “No.”
Seamus held the door for me, making the electronic bell chime, and I hesitated only another moment before walking toward him, if only to quiet the bell which felt as if it was an alarm going off.
I should have said no to talking privately.
I should have made something up and dragged Jude out of there. Because as I passed Seamus, inhaling the soapy, musky scent of him, everything from the other day hit me all at once. How he’d held me against him as I’d sobbed uncontrollably, fear rocking my body, though I’d never felt so safe.
The way he’d held my hands so tenderly.
The way he’d breathed on my ear; sank his teeth down…
Heat prickled through me at the memory alone, making my whole body nearly tremble.
“You okay?” Seamus asked, and I realized I was trembling right now, in the doorway under the stretch of his arm. His hand went to the small of my back to steady me, but that only worsened the feeling.
“Yes,” I said as the door shut behind us. No. “I’m fine.” I’m not fine.
Still, I lifted my chin up and walked briskly down the hallway, my back to him. Just ask him what he wants to say. That’s all you have to do.
It would be about the other day, I knew. How it was a mistake, and he was sorry. I’d agree, and we could be done with this.
But when I reached his office and spun around, another wave of that heat went through me at him standing there.
I wasn’t going to make it. All he’d have to do was step toward me and I’d melt, I’d fucking melt under that gaze.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, but his eyes went to my hands, then down to my knees. My skin tingled under the path of his gaze.
I pinched my eyes shut, willing myself to regain control of my senses.
He was asking about my injuries from the other day.
“Better than a car crash,” I said. That was awkward. “Guess I’m just unlucky,” I tacked on.
“Maybe I’m bad luck.”
I laughed. “I don’t think so. I was kidding, Seamus. Besides, you saved me, remember?”
He looked at me for so long with those deep brown eyes I felt my insides go loose. I wanted him to touch me. To put his rough, broad hand against the back of my head and—
“I have something for you,” Seamus said, interrupting my dangerous thoughts with that voice that was beginning to undo me as much as my thoughts. “In my office.”
If it wasn’t his eyes, I’d melt with his voice. What was the matter with me?
Then I registered what he said. I frowned. “Something for me?”
“Yes. And… I wanted to talk about the other day.” He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, his eyes going to the floor. He didn’t like talking about things as much as I did. But he was doing the right thing. The good thing.
What happened was a mistake.