Chapter Three #2
She nods, and we make our way back along the row of shops, stopping in a few places we’d passed earlier.
In one of them, I tell her to pick out a souvenir.
She tries to argue at first, but I just nod toward the shelves, telling her it was a good day and I want her to have something to remember it by.
She relents and, after a few minutes of looking, finds a small glass bottle filled with sand and tiny shells, Nantasket Beach painted across the front in bright letters.
She takes it down with a smile and turns it in her hands, watching the sand shift inside.
I make sure she’s happy with it before paying, and when we leave the shop, she asks if we can go back and watch the water for a little while longer.
So we stand near the car, back from the beach this time, where the tide has covered most of the sand, and watch the waves until the sun starts to set. Then I take her home.
I walk Alannah up to the door, already wishing I didn’t have to leave her yet.
“Thank you for today, Ronin,” she says, smiling up at me.
“It was perfect.” Then she surprises me by rising onto her toes and pressing her lips to mine.
The kiss starts soft, almost tentative, and I curl my hands into fists at my sides to keep from grabbing her and taking more than I’m sure she’s ready to give.
Then her mouth parts against mine, her tongue brushing my lower lip, and Christ, every bit of restraint I have goes with it.
My arms slide around her waist, pulling her closer as I deepen the kiss.
For a few seconds, the world narrows to just her—the warmth of her mouth, the slide of her tongue against mine, the way she feels pressed against me. Nothing else exists.
Then I remember where we are, standing on Alannah’s front porch outside her parents’ house, and force myself to pull back.
I rest my forehead against hers, feeling her breath against my lips, and I can’t stop myself from kissing her once more before I step back.
“Get inside, doll,” I murmur. “I’ll see you soon. ”
She bites her lower lip, looking up at me through her lashes.
“Goodnight, Ronin,” she whispers, then slips inside.
I don’t turn away until I hear the lock turn behind her.
By the time I get back to the car, I’m grinning like a damn fool, and I drive home with the whole afternoon replaying in my head.
A couple of hours later, I’m sitting on my couch watching the television when Mick calls and tells me to be ready because he’s heading over to pick me up.
Before I can get a word in, he hangs up.
By the time he pulls up outside, I’ve changed, annoyed with myself for going along with it, but I still slide into the passenger seat and look over at him. “Where we goin’?”
Mick pulls away from the house, smirking as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Gonna try The Harp tonight. Heard from some of the lads it’s lively.”
The Harp is already busy when we walk in, smoke hanging thick in the air and music loud enough to drown out half the room.
Mick heads straight for the bar, ordering for us both without asking what I want.
I look out over the crowded room while I wait, my gaze moving over the full tables, the men gathered near the bar, and the dance floor packed tight.
When Mick comes back, he has a tray of drinks in his hand, enough of them that I can tell he doesn’t plan on making another trip to the bar anytime soon. He sets it down in front of me, then leans in, passing me one as he shouts into my ear, “Lads were right. Place is lively.”
As soon as I finish the first drink, Mick sets another down in front of me.
I pick it up and light a cigarette, sitting back as I blow the smoke toward the ceiling.
He keeps yelling over the music, trying to get my attention, but I only catch pieces of what he’s saying.
My head is still too full of today, of the happiness on Alannah’s face when she realized I’d brought her to the shore, the way she turned that little bottle of sand and shells over in her hands, and the feel of her mouth on mine at her door.
By the time I finish my third drink, I’m already thinking about calling it a night. I check my watch. It’s still early enough that if I leave now, I could get some decent sleep before work in the morning. There’s no real reason to stay.
Decision made, I reach for my jacket, ready to tell Mick I’m heading out, when someone steps up beside the table and sets a row of shot glasses down in front of us.
She’s good-looking, with dark hair pinned in big curls, red lipstick bright against her smile, and a dress made to turn a man’s head. “Mind if I join?” she asks, already sliding a shot toward Mick, then one toward me.
Mick picks his up with a grin. “Be rude not to.”
If she hears him, she doesn’t show it. She only nudges my shot closer as she lifts her own, eyes on me like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do. “To the night still being young.”
I look at the glass in front of me, already knowing I should leave it there, but I pick it up anyway, tap it lightly against hers, and toss it back.
***
The clatter of dishes pulls me awake.
Something feels off before I even open my eyes.
The bed is too soft beneath me, and the air smells faintly of powder and perfume.
When I open my eyes, the ceiling above me looks wrong, and for a second, I just lie there, stupid with sleep, trying to place the ivory plaster and the thin cracks running through it.
What the hell?
Outside the room, I hear the Andrews Sisters playing. Then a woman’s voice joins in, and I’m suddenly wide awake. I snap upright, and the comforter slides down my body, pooling at my waist. My eyes drop to it.
Pink.
Shit.
And I’ve got nothing on under the damn thing.
My pulse kicks hard as I scan the room, taking in the green-and-pink wallpaper dotted with tiny roses, the lace curtains on the windows, and the white vanity in the corner, crowded with bottles and brushes.
This isn’t my room. Not even close.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
The woman keeps singing as I shove the comforter back and swing my feet onto the cold floorboards. My trousers are crumpled beside the bed, and I grab them and pull them on.
My shirt’s next. I find it thrown over a chair, shove my arms into the sleeves, and start on the buttons. I’m only halfway done when a floorboard creaks in the hall.
I look up just as a woman steps into the doorway.
She’s curvy, with dark curls loose and messy around her face, and a pink robe slipping off one shoulder.
She’s carrying two mugs of coffee, steam curling over the rims. Her eyes drop to my trousers, then to my half-buttoned shirt, and a flash of irritation crosses her face before she covers it with a flirty smile.
“Morning, handsome,” she says, holding one of the mugs out to me.
Ignoring it, I keep searching for the rest of my clothes. “Sorry, no time for coffee. I’ve gotta get going,” I mutter over my shoulder. “But thanks for last night…” What the hell was her name?
I find my tie on her dresser and loop it loose around my neck before pushing my feet into my shoes, not bothering with the laces. I pat my pockets to make sure I’ve got my wallet, then start for the door.
She hasn’t moved. She just watches me, waiting for me to finish what I was saying. Waiting for her name, probably. Doesn’t matter. I’m not giving her anything either way. The silence stretches long enough that her lower lip pushes out in a pout. “You don’t even remember my name, do you?”
I look past her into the hall. “Look, I really gotta get to work,” I say, my voice clipped.
And still, she doesn’t get out of my way.
I watch her take a small sip from one of the mugs she’s still holding, then rest her hip against the doorframe, acting like I didn’t just tell her I had to go.
“It’s Kathleen,” she offers, like I asked.
“But like I told you last night, you can call me Kitty.” A sly smile pulls at her mouth.
“You know, I was starting to think you’d never notice me, Ronin Byrne.
We’ve actually met before. My da’s Sully O’Malley.
He works for your father down at the docks. ”
Plenty of women know my name. That isn’t the problem.
It’s the way she says it, like it should mean something between us, and the fact her da works for mine.
She’s pretty enough, but that’s trouble I don’t need.
“Ah, right. Sully. Yeah… good man,” I say, clearing my throat as I check my watch.
I don’t really read the time. I just need something to look at that isn’t her.
“I really do have to go.” This time, when I walk toward her, she makes just enough room for me to squeeze past.
I keep going, down the short hall toward the front door, and I’ve got my hand on the knob when she calls after me. “You’ll come back, yeah? Door’s always open for you.”
I’m sure it is. I don’t answer. I pull the door open, step out, and shut it behind me before taking the narrow stairs down from her third-floor apartment two at a time.
By the time I hit the street, I’m already working out what I need to do next.
Figure out where the hell I am, find a phone, and call Mick for a ride.
Then I get a look around and realize I don’t need one.
The docks are close, maybe ten minutes on foot, and my office is in one of the warehouses there.
Good enough. I can wash up, change into the spare clothes I keep there, and get on with the day.
I turn toward the docks and start walking, leaving Kathleen O’Malley and last night behind me.