Chapter 16 #2
His mouth tightened before he looked down at the bar, spraying it with anti-bac solution and wiping it over with a clean cloth. “You don’t need to. The angst is comin’ off you in fuckin’ waves. I swear, I can smell it and it ain’t pretty.”
I barked a laugh. “That’s a new one.”
His eyes lifted to meet mine again. “Is Imogen okay?”
“She’s perfect, except that Wilder Stone decided to claim her today. When we left Cash’s cookout, he was guarding his bedroom door, hissing at anyone who came close because my girl was holed up in there, tired, and he decided she needed her beauty sleep.”
His eyebrows hit his hairline. “Wait. How old is the kid? Four? Five?”
My insides curled up tight. “Five.”
His hand released the cloth, and it landed on the counter. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I deadpanned. “Witnessing it was a revelation for this first-time dad to a beautiful baby girl. Thought my brain was gonna implode.”
He turned toward the fridges and grabbed a handful of beers from one before popping off the tops.
“Here, guys,” he called out to Karma, who was with a group of younger Speed Demons, sitting at the table in front of the huge TV on the wall, waiting for the game to come on. “Next ones are lined up for ya.”
I grabbed the bottles by the neck and took them over to the table, nodding at the mutters of thanks before heading back to Callum.
“You look tired,” I stated. “Why are you working anyway? You just got back from your honeymoon an hour ago.”
“Maeve’s sleeping, and I’m still on Irish time,” he explained, going back to the fridge and grabbing two more beers.
“Adam deserved a night off after holding the fort for so long, and it’s quiet tonight apart from the football crowd, so I thought I’d work the bar.
I missed the place.” He popped the tops and handed me a bottle. “Any problems?”
I accepted it and waved a nonchalant hand. “Not with the bar, but life’s throwing dramas at me left and right.”
He gulped down a mouthful of beer, his eyes never leaving mine, before ordering, “Shoot.”
I picked at the label on the bottle. “Rosie’s mad at me and says she wants to end it. Reckons I’m keeping her at arm’s length.”
“Are you?” he asked.
I heaved out a breath, took a swig of beer, and then admitted, “Probably.”
“Typical of you,” he muttered. “You’re a one-man band.”
“No, I’m not,” I argued.
“Right,” he drawled sarcastically.
“I admit I’m not exactly forthcoming with my feelings,” I acquiesced. “But it’s how I’ve always been. You remember what Da was like. We couldn’t show weakness. I get it seems like I’m closed off, but I don’t know how to be any other way.”
“Then you’ll lose her,” Callum stated.
I tipped my head back and muttered, “Fuck.”
“How do you feel about that?” he asked.
“Sick,” I admitted. “The thought of Rosie not being mine makes me wanna puke.”
He nodded because he got it. He came close to losing his woman not long ago, too. The O’Shea boys had a knack for fucking up.
“Sometimes, the best way to start again is to set it all on fire, watch the baggage burn to the ground, and then build yourself up again,” he suggested.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked.
“It means, give her what she wants. Open up, let her in, give her the good, the bad, and the downright ugly, and if she can hack it, she’s the one.
If she can’t, then she’s not, and it’s better to know now than later ‘cause mark my words, brother, your emotional baggage will come out eventually. It always does.”
“I wasn’t aware I had emotional baggage,” I protested.
Cal cocked an eyebrow at me. “Liar. You don’t let anyone in, not completely.
That’s why you’ve never settled down with a girl.
The thought of having to lay it all out there terrifies you.
You’d rather shy away from being close to someone than let them see you, warts and all.
” He shrugged. “I blame Da. You were sensitive as a kid, and he used to laugh at you, call you a pussy, and tell you to toughen up. It hurt you, so you did as he said, not to obey him, but to stop giving him the power to cause you pain. The Army was the perfect career for you ‘cause it enabled you to bury those feelings deep, encouraged it even, and it’s turned you into an emotionally constipated motherfucker. It’s no wonder Rosie canned your ass. ”
My eyes widened at him. “What the fuck?”
He shrugged and took another swig from his bottle. “Maeve talks about this shit all the time. Part-time brewer, part-time writer, part-time shrink. That’s my missus.”
He leaned his elbows on the bar in a classic bartender stance. “So, tell me what happened.”
My lips thinned at the memory. “She says I don’t let her in.”
“There’s gotta be more to it than that,” he argued.
“There isn’t,” I insisted. “Except, well...”
Callum tilted his head, waiting.
I took a breath and in a low voice blurted out, “We haven’t fucked yet.”
His head reared back, and his eyes rounded. “You’ve been together for weeks. I get you’d wanna take it slow to a point; this is your first relationship. But even I took less time to get Maeve in my bed, and we weren’t even really together at the time.”
I grimaced. “Well, when you put it that way—”
“It’s not just that, brother,” he said, cutting me off. “Also... well, it’s Rosie Woods.”
“And?” I questioned.
His chin dipped, his eyes holding mine. “Have you seen her? And more to the point, have you seen her ass?”
“There’s more to her than her ass, Callum,” I bit out.
“Yeah, exactly,” he concurred. “There’s a lot more to her, and all of it good, which makes me even more confused.
I mean, if Maeve had never been on the scene and I had a shot at Rosie Woods, even I would’ve had a rethink about my no-strings strategy.
Did something happen in the last month that turned you gay?
No judgment here, bro. I just want you to be you. ”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not gay.”
“Then why?” he demanded.
All eyes in the bar turned to us.
“You okay, bro?” Karma called over.
“Yeah,” Callum answered. “Karm, let me say a name, and I want you to give me an honest reaction.”
Karma nodded.
“Rosie Woods,” Cal said.
Karma clutched his hands to his heart and threw his head back. “Girl of my dreams, but unfortunately, she has a brother who’s my boss and now”—his eyes drifted toward me—“a man.”
“Would you hold off on the fucking if you were in a relationship with her?” my brother asked.
“Yeah,” Karm said dryly. “For all of two point four seconds.” His eyes slid to me and narrowed.
“Don’t tell me you—” He paused briefly, his expression turning confused.
“Are you secretly gay or something, cause you know these days, you can be whoever you wanna be, right? Though I’d be shocked considerin’ how one glimpse of Rosie Wood’s ass would turn Elton John straight. ”
Callum chuckled.
Reno glanced over his shoulder at me from his place beside Karma. “If you don’t want her, you should cut her loose and give the rest of us a chance.”
“I ain’t cutting her loose,” I barked. “She’s mine.”
“Yeah,” Reno cut out sarcastically. “Sounds like it.”
“She’s my woman. The fact I respect her enough to hold off on the bedroom gymnastics doesn’t mean shit. And don’t think I’m clueless when it comes to you, Reno,” I added. “Atlas told me you’d thrown your hat in the ring. Joke’s on you, seeing as she’s not fuckin’ interested.”
“You’ll fuck it up,” Reno declared. “Already are by the sounds of it. That’s when I’ll slide in, literally.”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. “Not fuckin’ it up.
” I drained my beer and stood from my stool.
“Heading over there now, as a matter of fact. All this talk of my girl’s ass has got me thinking my drought’s about to end.
” I turned to Reno and gave him The Smirk while telling Callum, “Thanks for the chat.”
Reno let out a snort before turning his attention back to the TV.
“Good luck,” Callum said under his breath.
Checking my pockets for my cell and wallet, I grabbed my keys from the bar top.
“Thanks, bro. Think I’m gonna need it.”
—————
For the past five minutes, I’d been having a humdinger of a fight with Rosie through her front door.
I’d never been more grateful that her nearest neighbor was two fields away and as deaf as a post, because if he lived any closer and got wind of what was going on, I’d have been taken away in handcuffs by now.
“Let me in or I’ll break the fuckin’ door down,” I yelled.
“I’ll call the cops,” Rosie shrieked before tagging on, “And Atlas.”
That stopped me in my tracks.
She would, too.
Right, time to change my approach.
“Let me apologize, baby,” I crooned.
“Oh, just fuck off, O’Shea,” she shot back.
I tipped my head back and cursed at the sky.
If I could just get inside, I knew I could get her to listen to me. Rosie was a Taurus, which meant she saw red and had a temper, but it didn’t take her long to calm down. I just needed to get her over the seeing-red part and into the calm-down zone, and then I’d be golden.
My choices were limited. She obviously wasn’t going to open the door to me, so that meant I had to hark back to my misspent youth and reenact a spot of B and E.
I always kept a toolbox in my truck, so that wouldn’t be a problem.
I was a good lock picker thanks to that aforementioned misspent youth, and I could always race home, get my drill, and unscrew the door hinges in a pinch; though that would be noisy and Rosie would get wise to my game in about three seconds, giving her a window to call the cops on me.
I had no doubt she’d do it, if only to piss me off.
Sauntering to the truck, I swung into the back and grabbed some tools before returning to the house, humming under my breath. Then I went around to the back door, knelt down, laid my pouch of tools out on the ground, pulled out two tiny tension wrenches, and got to work.
Seven minutes later, I pushed the door open with a grin.
The downstairs rooms were in darkness apart from a beam of faint light glowing from the upstairs hallway, and that was where I headed.
The patter of paws sounded on the wooden floor, and I reached down to give Barney’s head a pat. He licked my arm, turned around, and then sauntered off back to his dog bed.
Rosie kept a clean, tidy, and comfortable home. The walls were painted in soft, pale colors and lined with a plethora of family pictures and trinkets they’d picked up during various vacations and trips, but I hardly noticed them as I climbed up the stairs leading to the bedrooms.
As I reached the top, I heard the faint creak of a door opening. My chin jerked up as a loud shriek filled the air, and what seemed like a wrecking ball, containing a flurry of arms and hair, came flying toward me.
I managed to move away from the stairs just in time because Rosie, who incidentally was wearing an extremely sexy, pink, short, strappy nightie with red roses on it, careened into me, taking me down onto my back so hard that I let out an “Oof.”
All air whooshed from my lungs, leaving me winded, so when I stared up into Rosie’s face, I just lay there with my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish while she stared down at me wild-eyed.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she screeched from her position astride me. “I thought you were a burglar!”
I tried to suck in a breath so I could speak, but my chest was still in seizure mode. However, what wasn’t in seizure mode was my cock, which turned stiffer than a recruit on his first day of training.
“Wait!” she exclaimed. “How did you even get in?”
Finally, my lungs filled with air, which allowed me to rasp, “Broke in.”
Her eyes went wide, then flared with temper as she shrieked, “You broke in?”
My mouth stretched into a wide grin,
“You broke in,” she repeated, her eyes going from wide open to tiny slits.
“Just like that, you broke in.” She sat up and thrust her long, flowing hair back from her face in frustration.
The movement pushed her big, round titties out until they strained against the thin material of her strappy nightie, and I could see the outline of her hard nipples trying to punch through.
My mouth began to water, and without a thought, I grabbed Rosie’s waist with both hands, twisted her body, and tossed her onto her back. Then I threw my leg across her hips, and suddenly it was me on top of her, and I had her pinned exactly where I wanted her.
Completely at my mercy.