The Shamrock (2 page)

Sirai pulled up to The Shamrock and hopped out of Ardan’s truck, knowing better than to go home. The more public the place, the safer she’d be. She was crazy, not stupid. Once he finally found her...

That’s your ass, chick, your
whole
ass...under his hand...for a
long
time.
Was it wrong that at the thought, her clit chose that very moment to break out in the lambada with a small shimmy shake? Chills raced up her spine as her nipples hardened. Shaking her head, Sirai eased her heels back on and made her way into the bar and restaurant. Carrick would protect her for the time being...hopefully. From the day she’d met Ardan he’d been a pain in her ass. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t be more like his brother Braedan, or his dad. They actually had a sense of humor.

Every move she made, he and those damned hazel eyes followed her. When she messed up, he was there to point out the facts and examples of why and how. It drove her crazy. But then there were small moments when Ardan looked at her, when it felt like he was sincerely seeing
just
her and not the mistakes she made, where she melted. Those rare times when he smiled, and for once she wouldn’t feel like such a fuck-up. Then there were days like this where shit just went downhill as soon as they got into one another’s presence.

It wasn’t like Sirai
tried
to get into trouble. She just did. If there was a way to trip and fall, Sirai would find it. If there was a new way to get a mild concussion, Sirai would find it. If there was a method of getting a new bruise, scrape, scratch, or cut, Sirai would find it. Then there was her penchant for trying to solve problems on her own—which didn’t always involve legal methods—that got Sirai her frequent run-ins with the law. Albeit, not purposely but she did it so successfully, with so much style, that after the age of ten, she just decided to embrace the fact that she was Murphy’s Law incarnate.

If it could go wrong with Sirai involved, then there was no doubt that it would. Amazingly enough, the only thing she seemed to be successfully coordinated at was slinging drinks in a traditional Irish pub. Who would’ve figured?

She’d been working with Ardan in his father’s bar and restaurant for the past five years, and the first day she’d walked through the door she’d nearly put him in traction. It wasn’t on purpose or anything. It just sort of…happened. Sirai had enough horrible job interviews and damned if she wasn’t tired of looking for someplace that could accept her status as a health liability. Okay, that was asking for a lot but when no one in town would take a chance on you, you get desperate. The Shamrock had been her last hope to get something stable enough to pay her bills and keep her in school.

Now The Shamrock was simply home. Even after Sirai had managed to stumble her way through to getting her MBA, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the one place that had been so good to her. Oh, and maybe she couldn’t exactly separate from one slightly crazed Irishman who was constantly threatening to spank her.

She smirked and made her way through the bar, waving to regular patrons as she went. Finally, she reached a door in the back and knocked. “C’mon.” A booming voice retorted from the other side.

Sirai twisted the knob and put on her best ‘innocent face.’ When she stepped inside Carrick O’Reilly, larger than life, bad-ass Irish biker, looked up from the spreadsheet on his desk and smiled. It made his intimidating size and status virtually non-existent. Well, mainly because he spoiled her rotten.

Carrick had once said he wanted a daughter before he’d wanted sons but that didn’t make him love them any less, there was just a connection a man had with his daughter, a special place he had for her that even a son couldn’t exactly fill. So when Sirai had slid into their lives, Carrick hadn’t wasted a moment letting her know she was wanted.

Being that Sirai had no family and her number of friends were very limited—as a matter of fact she only had
one
best friend—it was really hard for her not to get attached to the old man and his sons. Now here she was, trying to pout and look put out because she knew a certain somebody was on his way to get her.

“Sprung you from the cell, did they, jinx?” Carrick questioned as he sat back in his leather chair, folding large arms across his chest.

Sirai poked her bottom lip out more. “It wasn’t my fault.”

He chuckled.

“No, really, this time I really
didn’t
do it on purpose. I was minding my business, dancing with Candice—”

He held up one large hand. “Do I want to hear the rest of this story?”

“Being that I stole your son’s truck and he’s gonna be on his way to put me across his knee, I would say, yes, you wanna hear this one, Pops.”

When Carrick finally stopped laughing, he nodded his head at the seat in front of his desk. “Start talking, jinx.”

C
HAPTER
T
WO

“Stop laughing, Braedan or I swear I won’t wait until the truck stops moving to break your neck.” Ardan growled at his little brother.

Braedan, who’d been laughing hard enough to possibly piss himself, by Ardan’s estimation, took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face. “B-but...I just don’t understand how you fell for that. I mean, this is
Sirai
we’re talking about, dude. Why would you
ever
think it’d be that easy with her?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“Oh, that’s a line of bull. Once again you fell for those long lashed eyes and the pout. Now you’re pissed off because you can’t seem to be any more immune to it than Pops or me.”

Ardan’s jaw clenched as he stared out the passenger window. He wouldn’t admit it...at least not out loud. No, he wasn’t any more immune to Sirai’s pretty face than anyone else. If anything it was like a gut punch every time she swung those large copper eyes his way. When her heart-shaped mouth kicked up into a smile—taunting or not—it just about made his heart stop, and every word that left her lips, the husky sound of her voice set his heart on a racecourse. Even if it wasn’t something he wanted to hear, Ardan could listen to her talk all day long.

If he wasn’t listening to her talk, then he was watching her every action. What never failed to shock and awe him was the fact that Sirai could cause a natural disaster without even trying, but as soon as she stepped through the doors of The Shamrock every movement she made was so fluid and graceful it was like being around a completely different person.

“Irish luck,” Ardan murmured.

Braedan chuckled again. “You’re going to need every ounce of yours to deal with your woman, dude.”

“She’s not
my
anything. Unless you’re referring to her being a pain in
my
ass.” He wasn’t done being a prick yet. Especially not after she stole his truck. She’d be lucky if she had any color left on her ass after he was done with her.

“So...if she’s not
your
anything, you wouldn’t mind if I—”

“Got your spinal cord removed through your face for even completing that sentence? No,
I
wouldn’t mind, but I’m pretty sure Pops would be upset with having to make all the funeral arrangements for you.”

His younger brother snorted. “You have it
so
bad.”

Yes, yes he did.

“And
that
is how I ended up sitting in a cell for the night,” Sirai finally finished her story, and by the time she was done, Pop Carrick was laughing so hard his face had turned as red as his hair.

“So wait,” he gasped, trying to draw in a breath. “You’re telling me this jackass—who you had no idea was a cop—asked you to dance?”

“Yes.”

“You turned him down because he was a prick.”

“Yes.”

“Then you went back to dancing with Candice.”

“Yes.”

“Which he apparently took to mean you were a lesbian.”

“Yes.”

“So when he decided to call you that
publicly—
instead of getting pissed off, you
kissed
Candice in front of God and country to prove a point.”

“Yup.”

“Which caught her by surprise so she accidentally knocked into a gawking onlooker who spilled his drink down the front of your blouse.”

“Unh-hunh.”

“After that, the gawking onlooker was so eager to help you clean yourself up and possibly get his hands on Candice too, you snatched the napkin away that he was using as an excuse to feel you up, and inadvertently your hand went flying backwards and breaking the nose of Officer Prick.”

“Unh-hunh.”

“He cuffed you on the spot and took you downtown to book you under the charges of assault to a policeman.”

“Unh-hunh.”

“And Candice called me because she didn’t have enough to spring you, and I called Ardan to go and get you. He managed to be an asshole and you stole his truck. Now you’re sitting across from me with that extremely pitiful expression on your face and hoping I’ll protect you from the ass tanning that Ardan is sure to deliver.”

“That about sums it up, Pops.” She sighed, sitting back.

He shrugged. “Sorry, baby girl, I can’t help you this time.”

With wide eyes, she sat back up. “Wait, what?”

“I can’t help you,” Carrick repeated. Then he stood and made his way around his desk. “I give it another ten minutes before that boy shows up and you’re in an extreme amount of trouble that even
you
aren’t accustomed to.” Grabbing his favorite leather jacket, he put it on and gave her a sympathetic grin. “If you can manage to get out of here within that time period then more power to you.”

Sirai just gawked at him. “You betraying, old, foreign—”

“While you’re name calling, you could be getting the hell outta here. You do realize this?” Carrick pointed out, his smile widening.

“I hate you.” She got up and headed for the door.

“You wish,” the old man quipped.

“I—” Before the next words could leave her mouth, Carrick’s office door swung open, revealing an amused Braedan and...a surprisingly impassive Ardan. Oh, this would
not
end well.