Wild Irish Envy (Copperline #2) (8 page)

I roused Fliss, who seemed worse for wear and horribly groggy, as the plane emptied out. Once most of the passengers had left, I gathered up her carry-on and mine and ushered her towards the exit. She seemed to be very out of it, but whether from the cold medicine or the illness itself, I couldn’t tell.

On our way out of the airport terminal, heading out to the taxi queue, I spotted another smoothie place, and loaded her up with another pomegranate smoothie. She hadn’t eaten since I’d been with her, but she also didn’t really seem to want to. I figured she’d go for the cool, fruity taste on her throat, though, and she needed some nutrition. It did seem to help her perk up… if only just a little.

“So where are ya staying, Fliss,” I asked as we headed out the terminal doors to get a cab.

“The, um… shit… Capital something?” she began to rifle through her purse and pulled out a slip of paper holding her hotel confirmation email. “Here it is. The Grafton Capital. I’m staying there for a few days until the flat is ready.”

She could barely keep her eyes open in the cab on the way to the hotel. As we turned a corner, she sort of slid into me, so I once again slipped my arm around her to hold her a little bit steady. I was hoping the taxi driver didn’t think I’d drugged her, although she was totally giving off that vibe.

The clerk at the hotel seemed to have similar thoughts as I helped Fliss get checked in. Just so it didn’t totally look creepy, I took my bags up as well. I just sorta pretended we were a couple, doing what I could to show some familiarity rather than just appearing to be some dodgy fella who just wanted to get her to her room.

As soon as I unlocked the door, Fliss flopped down on the bed with an exhausted sigh.

“Oh, I never thought lying down could feel so good,” she moaned. “It’s wonderful.”

I pulled out a bottle of water from my bag that I’d gotten at the airport and another dose of the NyQuil.

“Here, Fliss,” I said, nudging her and holding out the medicine, “better take another dose before you wind up feeling like shite again.”

She lifted just enough to get the gelcaps down with a swig of the water before curling up into a shivering little ball.

“I’m going to see my family,” I murmured as I slipped off her shoes and helped to pull the blankets back to allow her to climb beneath them. “I’ll come back in a bit to check on ya, alright?”

She nodded what seemed like some understanding of what I had said, and then her eyes drifted closed again as she snuggled into the pillow. I tucked the blanket around her shoulders and, grabbing the spare key card on the way out, left her there to rest.

“So you brought a girl with you,” my younger sister Ciara said as she opened the door to my nanny’s house. No ‘
hi, how are you?’
or even a ‘
hey, Denny’s here!’
Just straight to the question, and I gave my da a dirty look that he simply chose to ignore.

“I didn’t bring her with me,” I argued. “She was coming here anyway and fell ill on the plane. I was just helping her get checked into her hotel.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Ciara, it’s not—” I began, only to be interrupted by my sister.

“I don’t care. Is she pretty?”

“She’s American,” my da said, and just then my nanny came out of the kitchen with a wide smile on her face. She looked smaller. Frail. Completely unabashed that she’d gotten me to come to Dublin under false pretenses.

“Gossún,” she smiled, “you’re just in time.”

“Bacon and cabbage, huh, nanny?”

“Of course,” she said, “it’s your favorite.” She looked around me to the front door. “Why, Denny, where are your bags?”

“Probably at the hotel with his American girlfriend,” Ciara giggled, and I shot her a dirty look.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I argued.

“You have an American girl? You should have brought her to lunch,” my nanny said.

“She’s not feeling well,” I explained. “And, really, she’s not mine, anyway, so why would I bring her here?”

And that was the common theme through the meal. Not so subtle hints about Fliss.
Who was she? Where was she from? Was she Catholic?
(This seemed to be most important to my mother who seemed overly concerned about the eternal souls of her future grandchildren.)

And the whole time, I sat there thinking about her, all alone in the hotel.
Should I have given her more of that bleedin’ NyQuil?
She had slept like the dead on the plane.
Feckin’ hell, what if something happened?

Jaysus, what if the hotel caught fire? Would she be able to wake up after I’d drugged her up and left?

This swirling cesspool of questions was driving me mad. All this uncertainty reminded me of that elusive and forbidden attraction for her that never seemed to fade. The touch of her warm lips at Trent’s funeral. Of the guilt I felt for wanting her when my friend wasn’t even cold in his grave.

“Denny,” my ma repeated, pulling me from my thoughts, “did you hear me?”

“Sorry, ma,” I replied. “I didn’t.”

“How long are you planning to stay?”

Good question
, since I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go back. Ever.

“Not sure exactly,” I shrugged. “I just bought a one-way ticket because of nanny here.”

The old bird had the balls to just flash an innocent smile and take a bite of her cabbage.

“Well,” Ciara narrowed her eyes at me, “how long is your girlfriend here for?”

“A couple months, I think,” I said without thinking, then frowned back at my sister. “And bloody hell, she’s not my girlfriend.”

Ciara just smiled like my nanny, who was smiling even wider by that point. I raked my hands over my face and massaged my temples. I loved my family, but there was a reason I’d moved clear across the Atlantic Ocean.

“Are you alright, son?” my da asked.

“You must be exhausted,” my ma answered for me, “and worried about that girl of yours. You said she was sick, right?”

“Ma, really,” I groaned.

“What?” she asked in response. “I said your girl, not your girlfriend. I wasn’t implying anything.”

“Right,” I muttered.

“Does she need to go see a doctor?” my nanny asked.

“I think it’s just a bad cold, but I would like to go check on her. She was right feverish on the way here.”

“I’ve got some 7-Up you can take her,” the old woman smiled, and I nodded in thanks as she stood to go get it. I rose and pushed in my chair, then grabbed my plate to follow her.

“Will you be coming back tonight?” my ma called after me.

“Of course I’ll be coming back tonight.”

But I didn’t.

When I got back to the Grafton, Fliss was still fast asleep and still feverish. I began to wonder if I should maybe take her to a doctor like my nanny had suggested, but then figured I’d wait and see how she felt in the morning. So I poured a glass of 7-Up and stirred the bubbles out, then roused her enough to get her to take a few sips along with the ibuprofen I had brought from Montana. I wet a washcloth with cool water and swiped it slowly across her forehead and cheeks until her fever seemed to fade some.

Then I lay down on the bed beside her, exhausted from the long trip, the long day, and the eternal afternoon with my family. Before I knew it, I had fallen fast asleep.

And like so many other times, I dreamt about another memory of Fliss.

April, four years ago

She had been dating Trent, more or less, for almost two months. More that he had laid claim, but he still fucked around with everything he could get his hands on. It wasn’t right, but who was I to tell on him?

“Shit,” Justin hissed as he looked across the crowd. “I need to go find Trent.”

“What the hell for?” I asked.

I looked across the crowded Copperline bar and saw the familiar dark-haired beauty standing on her tiptoes looking around the room.

“Because Felicity is here, dammit,” Justin replied. “And Trent just went out back with some chick.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking around on her then,” I grumbled. She didn’t deserve that. I certainly wouldn’t have done it. Especially not to her.

“I don’t even know for sure that’s what he’s doing,” Justin said. “He was scoring some pot from her, but he likes to show his thanks. I just want to make sure he’s not doing it with his dick. Go stall her while I warn him.”

“You know I’m a shitty liar, right?”

“Just go stall her.”

“Why the feck should I?”

“Because Trent would do it for you, you fucker,” Justin retorted as he started through the crowd, then looked back at me and pointed over towards her.

“He wouldn’t feckin’ have to,” I shot back in frustration.

Which was absolutely true. If she was mine, the last thing I’d do is cheat on her.

I took a deep, bracing breath and made my way through the crowd.

She was turned away as I got close, craning her neck towards the bar to search through the crowd.

“I don’t think you’re old enough to be in here, young lady,” I said in a mock authoritative tone.

One of the girls with her, a lanky beanpole of a blonde, jumped and spun around, blathering on about how she left her ID at home, but she really was old enough.

But at the sound of my voice, even with me trying to sound as American as possible, Fliss grinned and looked up at me, eyes sparkling.

“Ah,
feck
off,” she laughed.

Her other friend, a nondescript brunette bird with thick glasses, gasped. “Felicity!”

Fliss turned to her. “This is just Denny, lead singer of the Bangin’ Mofos,” she explained. “He’s not going to get us in trouble.”

The blonde practically swooned. Our little bit of fandom was slowly growing, and apparently, she was one of them.

“Ohmygod! Denny! You’re Denny?! Oh em gee!”

Fliss leaned in and murmured up to me. “She’s a bit of a fan.”

“I see that,” I replied.

“Are you guys playing tonight?” the blonde asked.

“We are, just taking a break at the moment.”

“Awesome,” Fliss said. “I never actually get to see you guys on stage.”

“Well, now is your chance,” I grinned.

“That’s why we came,” she shrugged.

“And to see Trent of course, right?”

An odd expression passed over her face at my reminder. She looked down for just a moment, and then glanced back up at me.

“He probably won’t really like that I’m here. He doesn’t seem to like a lot of things I do these days.”

“He’s actually been kind of a dick to her,” the bespeckled brunette said, then quieted when Fliss shook her head in a slight warning.

I’d actually heard that, though. Trent was being kind of a dick to her, and really didn’t seem to have the faintest idea of fidelity. He was my friend, but that didn’t mean he was a good guy. I sure as feck wouldn’t want him dating my sister.

I really didn’t want him dating Fliss either.