Chapter 2
ROSIE
I’d died dead.
Seriously, what man strutted into the women’s bathroom and described all the dirty, hot ways he was going to fuck a girl with his mom in the bathroom stall, listening to every word?
Donovan O’Shea, that was who.
I didn’t know what I wanted more, to grab him by the collar and kiss his face off, sink to my knees and unbutton his fly, or tell him he had as much chance of fucking me as he had of winning the state lottery.
In the end, Maureen’s impromptu appearance made my decision for me, though dang, it was a crying shame because Donovan O’Shea was hotter than sin.
Still, it was probably for the best.
From what I’d heard, time hadn’t changed him a lick because he was still a player. Our one night together was the stuff a thousand fantasies were made of, and whenever I found myself reaching for my BOB, it was the memory of Donovan that made it worth the effort.
Back when it happened, he hadn’t called in the days that followed, so I went looking for him. I walked into his family bar a few nights after our tryst and saw him in a clinch with some other girl. Embarrassed, I’d turned on my heel and walked straight back out again.
It hurt more than it should have, though God only knew why; it wasn’t like his reputation was stellar. He was a manwhore, and although we’d been friends for a while and I thought we’d been good together, I had no expectations of marriage and babies when it came to Donovan O’Shea.
Then my mom got sick and received her cancer diagnosis, and I left town, which at the time allowed me to get over the relationship that never was, and move the fuck on.
“I’m sorry about that eejit, Rosie love,” Maureen murmured, moving to the sink to wash her hands. “Though I think he’s quite taken with you.”
I gave her an incredulous look. “Taken with someone? Donovan?”
She winced slightly. “I know, I know, but if Callum can fall like a ton of bricks, then I’m praying to the Archangel Chamuel that my Donny can, too.
He’s more sensitive than people realize, and when the right woman comes along, he’ll settle down.
” She looked at me through the mirror on the wall and asked innocently, “Have you got a fella, Rosie love?”
I had to bite my lip to hold my laughter in. “Are you trying to fix me up with your son?”
“Too right I am,” she muttered, rinsing soap from her hands.
“My Donovan needs a woman who’ll keep him on his toes.
You’re smart and beautiful, and you’d bust his balls if he started his shite.
Plus, you two would make beautiful babies.
” Her gaze took on a dreamy look. “Your hair, his eyes—could you just imagine your bairns?”
My belly warmed at that thought.
I’d always wanted another baby, but my marriage never went the distance.
I was older and wiser now, so I wasn’t going to settle for anyone less than I deserved, especially since I’d already married one man with a wandering eye.
I didn’t need a repeat of that particular shit show.
Plus, I already had two kids who’d seen me go through a lot of crap with their dad, and to my shame, bore the scars from it.
We deserved peace, and Donovan O’Shea was a tornado in human form.
“I’ve got two teenage kids, an asshole ex-husband, no job, and a brother who’s all up in my business.
I’ve just got back to town after years of caring for my mom through her cancer treatment, and I’m still finding my feet.
The kids have to settle into a new school and make new friends.
I’m not in a position to start anything with anyone. ”
Maureen dried her hands and turned to me, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.
The action was so tender and maternal, and her expression so full of soft concern, that it brought a lump to my throat. It had been a long time since somebody cared for me, and Maureen was giving off some serious mom vibes.
“He may surprise you, love,” she murmured. “I know my boy doesn’t seem like the settling-down type, but he’s ready for you now.”
My throat tightened painfully because I would have loved for Maureen to be right.
Out of the few men I’d been with since I split with my ex, Donovan was the only one who’d made me feel worth something, even if it was only for one night.
We’d always gotten along well and had great banter, and we had the same sense of humor, too.
The problem was, I couldn’t see Donovan playing Dad to two angsty teens, and my kids’ well-being and happiness came first.
I took her hands in mine. “Why don’t we just go enjoy the wedding? We can let everything else happen as it’s meant to.”
Maureen deadpanned. “I need a bloody drink after hearing Donovan’s dirty talk.”
A laugh bubbled up. “I don’t know how I kept a straight face. I thought he was going to have a seizure when you walked out of that stall.”
“He’s a feckin’ eejit, and so much like his father that some days he makes my heart ache.” Her words were harsh, but the look of love in her expression took the sting out of her words. Maureen O’Shea may have been a ballbuster, but she loved her kids fiercely, which was something we had in common.
I followed Maureen out of the bathroom and into the main reception.
Everybody had started to file outside into the patio area for drinks, and Callum and Maeve stood by the vast bifold doors, talking to the line of people as they walked outside.
The evening was starting to draw in, and the sun was low in the sky, casting shadows across the deck which was lit up with thousands of twinkling string lights.
Callum glanced over and saw Maureen before touching his wife’s arm and murmuring something to her. Maeve looked over and beamed a megawatt smile, then called, “Ma! We’re having cocktails outside while Lexi reorganizes the room for the speeches and dancing later.”
I gave Maureen a nudge. “Would you like to indulge in a Pornstar Martini with me?”
She grinned wickedly and linked our arms together as she led me toward the happy couple. “Well, I don’t mind if I do, Rosie love. I need something to make me forget what shite I heard come out of my son’s gob not five minutes ago.”
“Maybe we should keep that quiet,” I suggested. “I’m not sure my brother will appreciate it.” I paused as I felt a vibration coming from my bag.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Maureen demanded. “We’re Irish. A wedding’s not a wedding without a good punch-up.”
My eyes widened exaggeratedly, and I held my free hand to my chest. “Oh my! Think of the kids.” My bag buzzed again, and I reached down to open it. “Sorry, Maureen. I just want to check that DJ and Gabby are okay.”
“Of course, love,” she murmured, watching as I took my cell from my purse.
My son’s name flashed across the call display before it rang off again.
“Yo!” a familiar voice called out.
Craning my neck, I saw Atlas holding up his phone. “DJ’s tryin’ to call you. They’ve had some trouble at Evan’s, and he made the call to come home early. His truck’s broken down outside town. Gonna call the club now and arrange a tow.”
My stomach dropped, and I muttered, “Shit. I’ve been drinking.”
He walked toward us. “Same, but Lucie will sort ‘em.”
“What’s going on, Rosie, love?” Maureen asked gently.
“Gabby and DJ have been to their dad’s place in Idaho. Things are contentious between them and his girlfriend.”
Maureen nodded understandingly, her eyes falling somewhere over my shoulder. “Donovan!” she called.
I glanced behind me to see Donny prowl toward us. As he approached, his hand went to the small of my back, and he asked, “What’s the problem?”
“DJ’s car has broken down on the way home from their father’s house,” Maureen relayed.
His eyes came straight to mine. “You know where they are?”
“Just outside Granger,” Atlas confirmed.
“I’ve been drinking,” I murmured, suddenly feeling helpless.
“I’ve nursed one beer all day,” Donny explained. “I’ll drive you to get them.”
“But it’s your brother’s wedding day,” I protested.
“We’ll come back and bring the kids with us. Callum won’t care if I duck out for an hour. The best man speech isn’t for a while yet, and we won’t be long.”
Raising the phone to my ear, I waited. After a couple of rings, the call clicked in and DJ barked, “Mom?”
“Where are you, Son?” I was so intent on speaking to my boy that I hardly noticed Donny take my elbow and lead me out to the patio, with Maureen following behind.
“We’re just outside Granger on Highway 30, just before exit 66.”
I clicked the cell phone onto loudspeaker and asked, “Are you safe?”
“Yeah, Mom. I managed to pull off into an old gas station at the side of the road. It’s closed, but we’re in the car with the doors locked. Gabby’s here, and I did as you said and made sure I had a blanket in the trunk and spare water.”
I smiled to myself.
It was just like my boy to play the macho alpha and make sure his sister was okay.
DJ could have icicles hanging from his ears, and he’d still swear up and down that he wasn’t cold just so Gabby could have the blanket.
He didn’t have much of a role model in his dad, but luckily, Atlas picked up the slack, and DJ had taken notice.
Donovan leaned down and said, “DJ, it’s Donovan O’Shea. I’m driving your mom over to get you.”
There was a brief silence before Deej replied, “Oh. Hi, Mr. O’Shea.”
I bit back a smile at the reverence in DJ’s voice.
Like most of the boys in town, my son was in awe of the O’Shea brothers.
I mean, they were Irish and handsome. Between them, they owned a bar; one was ex-military and ran a gym, and another was a racecar driver.
Their reputations with the ladies preceded them, and they boxed, did Martial Arts, and were well-liked.
The O’Sheas were what every teenage man-boy aspired to be, and my teenage man-boy was no exception.