Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
IRISH
W ork was not getting done. He was too distracted. She’d been here for three days and while they spent damn near every second of their awake time together, she’d been off since they’d left The Watchmen’s clubhouse on Sunday.
Makenzie sat ten feet away from him on the laptop he’d secured from Jay, connected to his business accounts. He was supposed to be organizing the applicants’ files into three piles—yes, maybe, and absolutely not. But instead of reading files, Irish was staring at the woman sitting across from him. When he’d finished his conversation with Lucky and rejoined Makenzie and Kylie, the atmosphere had changed. He felt a sadness within Makenzie, an apprehension he hadn’t noticed earlier in the day. Unable to get it out of either woman, he’d chosen to put a pin in the conversation, for now.
His mind raced with ways to see if his instincts were correct. Was she a Little? She’d given off a few signs in the last couple of days but nothing definite. He’d tried asking her, but she had changed the subject, and he didn’t want to press too hard. He needed a plan to get it out of her.
As if she could read his mind, Makenzie sighed in her seat. He looked up, and she glanced over at him before waving her hand in the air. “Sorry, I’m just... I can’t concentrate.”
A plan came to mind. “How about we call it a day? I’ve got a ton of shit to do at home, anyway.” He stood and went to her side, taking the computer from her hands and placing it on the side table. “Let’s head home and I’ll cook dinner for us.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and she glanced down at her watch. “It’s only three o’clock.”
“One of the perks of being your own boss is getting to set your own schedule. I don’t like how tight your eyebrows pressed together when you were staring at the screen.”
“That’s my number crunching face,” she countered.
“It would be adorable, if you hadn’t looked upset,” he said.
“Nah. I’m not upset. I’m just trying to make sense of your system, or lack thereof,” she said with a giggle.
“Well, you can make sense of it tomorrow. Let’s go home.”
“It’s too early for dinner,” Makenzie countered.
With a resolved sigh, Irish swept up the files from his desk and loaded them into his briefcase. “How about we go home, and you can help me separate these files and then I’ll make dinner.”
“Okay, I can do that,” Makenzie said, closing the lid on the laptop.
Once in the truck, Irish had a plan formulating in his head. He casually asked, “So, what’s your favorite food? If you were stressed out, or on your period, what food would you reach for? Your comfort food?”
Makenzie didn't hesitate, it was a no brainer for her. “That’s easy. Strawberry milkshakes and grilled cheese sandwiches with extra cheese with the crust cut off,” she said wistfully, then blushed when he glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow.
“What? I'm a sucker for a good grilled cheese,” she defended, laughing.
“Turns out, I have everything we need at the house to make both strawberry milkshakes and grilled cheese.”
“What? Really?”
“Yep. Really.”
Once at the house, they settled together on the couch. Irish was very aware of how close they were physically. He took out a stack of the manilla folders. “Okay so what I’m doing is color coding these files with a sticky note. Green means yes, yellow means maybe?—”
“And red means no?” she said, interrupting him.
“Yes, red means no.”
“How do you decide?”
“Well, I read through the file for potential warning flags. If I don’t think a kid is ready to attend yet, whether it’s physically, emotionally, or educationally, I flag them as yellow. However, if they have a history of violence or predatory behavior and could be a danger to the other campers, it’s red.”
“Do you just give up on those kids?”
“No. The red folders get sent to Hudson’s team. They go through them, and if possible, pair them up with a veteran mentor and invite them to a more intensive camp with a lot more supervision.”
“What about the yellows?” She asked, seemingly concerned.
“Yellows, we call their parents or social workers and discuss what we feel they need to work on before they can attend. More times than not, it’s just a kid that’s gotten off track but is still salvageable with the right guidance. I have a high success rate if I do say so myself.” He winked at her.
Irish watched as Makenzie leaned in and picked up a file. He tried to focus on the folders, but her presence was distracting in the most delightful way. He watched as she bit her bottom lip, reading the piece of paper she had in front of her intently. That simple action had him hard in his jeans.
He shifted in his seat, his cock pressing uncomfortably to his zipper and went back to pretending to read files, but he couldn’t concentrate for shit with her so close. The entire room was filled with sexual tension, thick enough to cut through with a knife. Her warm vanilla scent permeated his nostrils, driving him to distraction. The words on the papers in front of him blurred together as he thought about having her beneath him in his bed, his cock taking her in quick, hard strokes.
“I think this one should be yellow,” she said slowly. “He doesn’t come across as violent or dangerous, but it says here that he’s quick to anger and impulsive. He’s thirteen. I remember how impulsive my brothers were at the same age.”
“You aren’t lying. I was constantly trying to talk Sean out of some stupid idea or another.”
“My mom told me once that Sean tried to fly off our house when he was six and you grabbed his cape and held him back.”
“Foolish kid would have broken his neck,” Irish said with a laugh.
“My parents owe you for saving his life, more than once.” Makenzie giggled. “He wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the pack.”
They went back to reading the files, although, after rereading the same file four times and not being able to remember anything he’d just read, Irish gave up. He placed the folder on the table and turned to Makenzie.
“We’ve spent the last couple of days catching each other up on what we’ve been up to for the last two decades. I feel like I know you pretty well, but it seems that you are still keeping a secret from me.”
The instant blush on Makenzie’s cheeks told Irish he was right. He was on to something.
But before he could dig deeper, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the moment, pulling them back to reality. With a reluctant sigh, he reached for his phone, silently cursing the interruption.
As he glanced at the caller ID, a sense of disappointment washed over him. It was a reminder of the responsibilities that awaited him outside of this bubble they had created.
“I'm sorry, it's Lucky. I have to take this,” he said, his tone apologetic.
Makenzie nodded understandingly, though he could see a hint of disappointment flicker in her eyes. As he listened to Lucky on the other end of the line, his mind kept drifting back to the woman beside him, to the warmth of her presence, and to the undeniable chemistry that simmered between them. And for the first time in a long time, Irish allowed himself to entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was a second chance at love out there for him after all.
“I’m going to finish this call in the kitchen while I make you dinner,” Irish said, after telling Lucky to hold on for a second. Makenzie nodded, picking up another manilla folder.
“I’ll keep reading these. It’s fascinating.”
Walking into the kitchen, Irish pulled out everything he needed and placed the ingredients on the counter. He listened to Lucky talk about a possible issue with a rival club as he buttered the bread.
“How’s Makenzie?” Lucky asked, changing the topic.
“She appears to be fine,” Irish answered.
“Appears?”
“On the way to the house from the airport, we had great convo. I didn’t think I would fall for my best friend’s sister but here I am. I knew. I just knew when I saw her… You can laugh all you want.”
“Why would I laugh? Several of our friends have fallen in love at first sight?—”
“It wasn’t first sight. Hell, I’ve known that girl her entire life. The thing is, I don’t know what she and Kylie talked about but after we left the clubhouse on Sunday, she closed off. I am not imagining the chemistry between us, but…something changed.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know and it’s fucking maddening. If I wasn’t being careful not to scare her off, I’d order her to tell me or go over my knee for a spanking. I don’t like having to pull things out of people.”
Lucky’s laugh filled the line. “So, you think she’s a Little?”
“I do. I called her a good girl and she all but melted.”
“Then you know to tread carefully.”
“Yeah. Fuck. I’m not even worried about being a rebound. She didn’t love her fiancé.”
“Then why was she marrying him?”
“A warped sense of responsibility to her family,” Irish said. “I get it. It’s the reason I married Darian.”
“Luckily Makenzie is smarter and backed out before she wound up divorced like the two of us.”
“Right. If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to get back to making this grilled cheese before I burn it.”
“Grilled cheese, huh? May the odds be with you, young Jedi.”
Irish shook his head at Lucky’s mixed-up quotes, hung up the phone and went back to making the best damn grilled cheese he’d ever cooked. It had to be perfect for what was next.
Irish returned from the kitchen, balancing a tray with strawberry milkshakes adorned with whipped cream and a cherry, alongside two plates of grilled cheese sandwiches oozing with extra cheese, the crust neatly cut off, accompanied by apple slices and green beans. He placed the tray of food on the side table besides where Makenzie was reading through the files. Seizing the opportunity, he swiped some whipped cream off one of the milkshakes and, before he could second-guess himself, he held it out to her.
“I promise, it's better than it looks,” Irish said with a wink. She hesitated for a second before leaning forward and tentatively tasting the cream off his finger. The room seemed to come to a standstill as their eyes met; the air between them crackling with an electric charge.
“It’s delicious,” she said, putting the file down and leaning back into the couch.
He took a seat beside Makenzie, their knees brushing against each other. He couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the food, her enthusiasm contagious.
"This should make for a nice dinner," he said with a smile, handing her the milkshake.
Makenzie's eyes sparkled with delight as she took the milkshake. “Thank you. You are definitely spoiling me!”
He chuckled softly. “You have no idea what spoiling means if you think a milkshake and a grilled cheese sandwich is spoiling. But it would be my pleasure to show you.”
As she took a sip of the milkshake, he watched her closely, noting the way her lips curved into a satisfied smile.
“Would you like a bite of grilled cheese?” he offered, holding out a sandwich toward her.
Makenzie hesitated for a moment before nodding, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. She leaned forward, taking the sandwich from his hand and biting into it.
Irish couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction as he watched her enjoy the food he had prepared. “Good girl,” he praised when she finished the first half of her sandwich.
Makenzie's blush deepened, and she smiled shyly, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before she lowered them back to her plate.
As she reached for an apple slice, he noticed her push the green beans to the side, a small frown marrying her features.
“You still hate green beans, don’t you?” he asked. He hedged his bets when he’d thrown the bag of frozen green beans in the microwave to steam, remembering how much she’d hated them as a child.
She nodded, her expression sheepish. “You know that I've never been a fan. Remember how I would give you mine under the table when you came over for dinner and you’d eat them for me, so I could have dessert?”
“I remember.” He reached for the plate, scooping up a few green beans onto her fork and held them out toward her. “Come on, sweet girl, just a few bites of your vegetables. For me?”
Makenzie hesitated for a moment. She shook her head at him, and he bit back a chuckle, watching the emotions dance across her face.
“If you are going to finish your milkshake, you need to eat a few bites of your vegetables,” he said a bit more firmly. He laughed when she shook her head again. Stubborn. A bit bratty. He liked it. “Am I going to have to take your milkshake away?”
Her eyes grew wide, and she reached for her milkshake, moving it behind her and further from his reach. “Nope. My milkshake. No takesies back.”
He wasn’t expecting the small, higher pitched voice to come from her, and based on her expression, she wasn’t either. “Don’t think I won’t get up and take your milkshake to the kitchen and wash it down the sink. Naughty girls who don’t eat their vegetables don’t get to finish their milkshakes,” he pressed.
She gave a large dramatic sigh and inside, Irish cheered. There was absolutely no denying it now. “Be a good girl and open up.” He watched her eyes narrow and saw the yearning in them, before relenting, opening her mouth to the fork.
“That’s my good girl,” he praised again. Irish watched her closely, noting the way she complied with his request. The little sigh she gave after swallowing before she opened quickly for a second bite was a subtle but telling sign, another clue toward her preferences in the lifestyle they both longed for.
Yeah, she had Little written all over her. His next mission was to get her to trust him enough to admit it to him. One thing was for damn sure, he’d do anything to protect Makenzie and provide the safety and security she needed to let her walls down and let him in.