Chapter 2
2
Taylor
T he hot Irish boy wrenched me towards him. His grin and gleaming green eyes filled my vision. The power in that one move was not forced or rough. It was controlled and intoxicating. His soft lips enveloped mine, warming them instantly. Blood rushed to my head and then whooshed to my toes, making me dizzy. I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him close and myself upright.
His strong hands were firm on my hips, securing me in place. They didn’t need to; I wasn’t going to go anywhere. My lips were willing. My whole body was. My tongue caressed his. His groan infiltrated every part of my body, and I held him tighter.
He grabbed onto my arse, pulling me against him. I pressed myself against him.
The blood pulsing through me was slow, like a rhythmic, sensual beat, leaving wanting in its wake.
A small whimper escaped my throat and at first, I didn’t understand that the sound had come from me. The sound had come from me as I kissed a stranger. He didn’t feel like one. He felt...eternal.
I stepped away; our lips were the last parts of our body to disengage. It was like they knew other lips would never feel as good as this. They wouldn’t. Couldn’t. My eyes opened to him staring wide-eyed at me. And my lips that had kissed the hell out of him lifted into a smile.
“Thanks. I’m sufficiently warm now,” I said.
“I can keep you warm all day.”
I bet he could. But it was time to ruin his fantasies about showing me a good time.
I shook my head. “No can do, sorry. I’ve got to head back to my father’s farm and the family from hell.”
“I’ll go with you. I’m good at dealing with hell.”
I stared at the ridiculously hot guy standing in front of me, offering to go to my father’s with me. He was rough around the edges with stubble on his jaw, rugged hands with a couple of scraped knuckles, tight jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and a tattoo on his arm that poked out the bottom of his jacket sleeve.
I almost laughed, imagining my stepmother’s reaction when she saw him. She’d either be swooning or she’d be appalled because he looked rough. Then she’d need to fan herself. It would be worth taking him home for that alone. But even my petty revenge wouldn’t extend to taking some random guy home.
“All good,” I said.
He shook his head. “Showing you a good time extends to chasing your demons away.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”
“I’m a sucker for a pretty girl who needs help.”
“Look, whatever your name is. I don’t need some man playing hero. I just need to get through three more days, and I can go back home.”
He stuck out his hand. “Ciaron Murphy.”
I studied his hand like it might be contaminated. Funny, since I had no qualms about kissing him a minute ago. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ciaron.” I looked around the city, at the buildings that were reflected on the surface of the calm river. “I’m sure you have plenty of girls falling at your feet. Go help one of them.”
He set his jaw. “If I can trump you on the crappy family, will you spend the next three days with me?”
We’d gone from him going to the farm with me to spending three whole days together. Nothing like raising the stakes. What was there to lose? A few more minutes before I caught a train back to hell. Because heaven forbid that my father actually take time off work to show me some sights. No, I was left to show myself around, including taking a three-hour train ride to the capital.
“Fine.”
“My father has been in and out of prison since I was two. The only time he is faithful to my mother is when he is in.”
I stared at him. Was he telling the truth or making up a story to convince me?
“The only time my mother is faithful is when he’s out.”
I saw the pain flicker across his face. He wasn’t lying. I grabbed his hand and held it tight.
“I’m the oldest child of five. We all have different fathers. Each time she went off with a new man, I had another sibling to take care of.”
I didn’t have firsthand experience of what he was talking about, but the weight he bore was heavy on my shoulders, as if I was a packhorse trudging under an unrelenting load.
“How old were you the first time she left?”
The wind picked up. My hair whipped around my face. I ignored it, concentrating on him and the way his supple lips formed the words.
“The first time I was seven. By the time I was fifteen, I took her shifts at the pub so we could eat whenever she disappeared. It wasn’t legal, but the owner made it work.”
My insides were reeling. This man had grown up way faster than he needed to. What sort of mother does that?
“Is she still like that?” My fingers clung to his. I feared the answer.
“She doesn’t disappear for months or weeks at a time now. Something happened. I don’t know what.”
He reached out and pushed my wild hair out of my face. His fingers were gentle as they brushed my cheek. Tingles followed as if my cheek was being kissed by a unicorn.
He’d trumped me on the crap family. It was crazy, but I had no choice but to say, “You can spend three days with me.”
When he grinned, his green eyes creased at the corners. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We walked down the street. The buildings beside us were a mixture of old and modern. The contrast didn’t feel out of place; it suited the dynamic vibe of the city. Cars and double-decker buses passed us. The fumes made me miss the clean air of the farm. The bus tyres left dry tracks on the otherwise damp road. I knew why it was so green here, rain was never far away. I hadn’t seen a blue sky since I’d arrived.
And people, there were so many people. Dublin was nothing like home. Most of my days were spent on the farm. The only people we saw were our workers.
Ciaron clasped my hand like he would never let me go. I didn’t think I wanted him to.
“Let’s get my car and go meet crappy family number two.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll be OK.”
“If I’m going to marry you, I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”
I laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re crazy.”
But not as crazy as me getting into a car with someone I’d just met. Did serial killer victims feel this safe when they met the person who would take their life? I asked myself this question, and yet I still held his hand.
We stopped at an old red Toyota. The paint, which would have once been bright and shiny, was now dull from age or exposure or both. There were some scrapes and dents on the panels.
“It’s not much, but it’s mine,” Ciaron said.
“As long as we don’t break down in the middle of nowhere.”
“She hasn’t let me down yet. Where are we heading?”
“Killarney.”
He started the car, and we headed out of the city. The only reason I knew we were going the right way was because of the few signs I read.
“What sort of farm are we going to exactly?”
“A horse farm. My father works there.”
“OK.”
“Do you like horses?”
I pressed my hands together between my legs. His answer meant more to me than it should. Horses were my life. I’d been born into a horse family and so would my future children.
“Haven’t met one.”
Reasonable, I guess. Most city people hadn’t.
“You’re in for a treat. They are the best thing on the farm.”
Excitement grew in me at the prospect of sharing his first horse experience with him. I wanted to see his curiosity and wonder. I needed to. I hoped he wouldn’t disappoint me.
“You’re not really selling it. It can’t be hard to beat your father and crappy family.”
I laughed. “Not as crappy as yours though. My dad left my mum and me when I was twelve. Said he was homesick. I think he was sick of not being put first.”
I glanced out the window. Buildings were giving way to more and more green spaces as we left the centre of the city.
“That’s why you can understand my Irish accent. Foreigners usually struggle.”
I nodded. “I always found it strange that a lot of people from Ireland never lost their accents, even after they’ve lived in Australia for years.” My dad didn’t lose his accent or his Irish temper. I know it was just a stereotype and not all Irish were angry like him, but the saying did fit where he was concerned. “A year after he left, he asked for a divorce because his new girlfriend was pregnant. He was so excited about starting a new family. I don’t think he thought how much it hurt me to know I was being replaced.”
“Parents can be arseholes.”
“I didn’t ring him after that. He only called on my birthday and Christmas. Then out of the blue, he invited me to come for a visit.”
I’d debated whether to come. But in the end, I thought I’d regret the chance to reconnect. But his attitude since I’d arrived made me wonder why he’d invited me at all.
“And it hasn’t gone well?”
“No. The children are feral. I try to ignore them.”
“But?”
“Their mother is rude, and my father doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything much to me at all. I thought we’d spend time together, but he goes off to work leaving me at home.”
He grunted. “Been there. It’s funny how much my mother’s attitude changes every time my father is in jail. When he’s out, she loves him and he’s the best man in the world. When he’s back in, it’s the opposite.”
I was liking his mother less and less every time he spoke about her.
“How do you handle that?”
“It’s easier not to say anything, but sometimes I can’t hold it in, and I drive the point home that she always goes back to him.”
We continued talking the rest of the way to the farm. I told him about my peaceful life in Australia and my mother who seemed to be the opposite of his. Even after my father had left, she’d kept my life stable, and she managed a successful farm. She didn’t hook up with every man who paid her a compliment. She never shirked her responsibility.
As we got closer to the farm, we were like old friends learning new things about each other.