Chapter 4 #2
Aoife folded her arms. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn, Dee.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re not from here, Aoife,” I threw at her and then glared at Cillian. “It’s a bit early for a victory lap, don’t you think?”
“Regardless. I’m not here to see you but….” Cillian looked around.
“Dee, maybe the arsehole is here for a pint of Guinness to wash down that load of shite he’s been spreading about his ‘community-friendly development’?” Aislin Boyle, who was at one of the tables with her ma, celebrating her eightieth, called out.
Aoife’s lips curved into a condescending smile. “Now, now, Aislin. No need to be hostile. Change can be a good thing. You know, progress?”
“Is that what you call bulldozing farmland and sticking a shopping center where the cows used to graze?” I shot back.
Aoife opened her mouth to reply, but Cillian, the feckin’ diplomat, held up a hand.
“We didn’t come here to argue,” he declared smoothly. “Why don’t we all calm down?”
His condescension put my back up, aye, but it did.
“You know, maybe we can be cordial. Aoife, sweetheart, take a seat,” he continues, and they both sit at the bar. “It’s chicken night.” He read the board. “Is the food as good now as I remember?”
He had the nerve to bring up the food.
My sister, Maggie, had cooked for this pub every day until the cancer got too bad.
The food was still good—thanks to Ronan’s talent in the kitchen—but hearing Cillian talk about it like some nostalgic curiosity made me want to launch a pint at his head.
Especially since the bastard had blamed me for his cheating, saying I spent too much time with Maggie.
Didn’t you know? A man has needs.
I grabbed a clean glass and pulled his drink patiently. “Pint of Guinness, was it?” I asked my tone all sugar and acid.
Before he could answer, the pub door swung open, and in walked Jax Caldwell—rain-dampened, flushed, and carrying himself like he was the Lord himself.
Where the hell had he been all day? I thought angrily and then gave myself a mental head slap ‘cause I sounded like a bloody wife, which I wasn’t.
“Ah, there he is!” Cillian’s voice boomed, all false charm. “The man of the hour! Jax Caldwell in Ballybeg of all places.”
What the feckin’ fuck?
I should’ve known. Cillian wasn’t here to poke at me; he was here for business, to lure Jax into his scheme to mow down Ballybeg.
Jax blinked, clearly not expecting the attention, but his easy smile didn’t falter. “Ah, hello.”
Cillian rushed to him, his hand extended. He was ready to kiss the man’s ring, for God’s sake.
Jax looked at his hand and shook it hesitantly. “Ah…who are you?”
“Cillian O’Farrell. I am the Vice President of Projects for Irish Dream Developments.”
Jax looked blankly at Cillian and then turned to see me as if seeking an explanation. I shrugged. If the man was going to join hands with Cillian, he could take his-self far away from my place.
“I have no idea what that is.” Jax pulled his hand away and then walked to the bar.
“I’m such a fan.” Aoife rose, her hand on her heart. She was making googly eyes at him.
Little Baby Jesus!
Jax looked uncomfortable, and that made me feel better.
Cillian clapped Jax on the shoulder like they were old friends. “This is Aoife, my fiancée.”
Jax moved away and then nodded at Liam.
He looked around the room, and I knew he could feel the tension, and he wasn’t sure what was up or down.
He grinned at Ronan. “Please tell me we have that amazing stew again tonight ‘cause I’m frozen solid inside.”
“It’s chicken night, and you’ll like it,” Ronan informed him, flushed with pride at Jax’s compliment.
“You know there are better places to stay than Ballybeg,” Cillian, who obviously couldn’t read the room or his quarry, who obviously didn’t want to have anything to do with him, said.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” Jax sat down and rubbed his hands together. “Dee, do you think I can have some Irish whiskey? I need to warm up after that walk.”
I moved and poured him some of my finest.
“We’re from Cork.” Aoife sidled up to him, and not subtly at all, Jax shifted the barstool to get some distance from my ex’s fiancée. “We have some lovely properties fifty miles away…with a golf course.”
Jax swallowed and pursed his lips.
Now, this man could read a room. He could see something was off, and he was determining how to handle it.
I set the whiskey in front of him, folded my arms, and leaned back to watch the scene.
There was pin-drop silence in the pub, like everyone was watching their favorite TV show. All that was missing was the popcorn.
“I’m on vacation.” Jax picked up the glass of whiskey, his eyes on me. “And I’m enjoying the view at Ballybeg.” He downed the drink, and my heart began to hammer in my chest. That look should be illegal. My knickers were getting wet.
“This is no place for a vacation,” Cillian persisted as he flanked Jax, coming between him and Liam.
“Do you mind?” Jax raised both his eyebrows. “I’m here with my friend Liam.”
Cillian looked like he’d been punched. I had to suppress a giggle, which was strange because I wasn’t prone to giggling.
“Liam?” Cillian had a blank look on his face.
“Yeah. I thought you knew Liam Murphy because everyone knows everyone here.” Jax grinned. “I love this place.”
“This place?” Aoife scoffed.
“Yes,” he gritted out, just a sprinkle of temper in his words, enough to make Aoife take a step away from him.
It seemed like Jax didn’t care about Aoife Kelleher’s perfect hair, perfect teeth, and toned body.
When I found them in Cillian’s office, his white arse slamming into Aoife, her business skirt up her waist, showing all her business—I’d been angry and had hurled insults before walking out of there.
But for all my bluster, the truth was that I’d been devastated.
Maggie had just died, and I needed support.
I thought my fiancé, my future husband, would give me that, but he’d been busy boning another woman.
“Jax.” I leaned on the bar counter so we were face to face. I was taking a chance here that he was on my side based on how he was behaving. “Did you know that Cillian and I used to be engaged?”
Jax’s lips curled on the edges.
“And did you know we broke up when I found him balls deep inside Aoife here?”
“Dee,” Cillian hissed.
“Oh my God, you’re such a bitch,” Aoife commented.
Jax smiled widely. “I actually did.”
I arched an eyebrow in inquiry.
“I had some beers with Paddy at his garage,” he explained, winking at me.