Fck of the Irish(5)

“Fine.” He sighed and walked two spots down to his car before turning back to me. “Follow me. It’s a bit of a hole in the wall. O’Flaherty’s. You know it, yeah?”

“I think so. On the other side of the strip close to the thrift store?”

“That’ll be the one. Drive safe, Laurel.”

“You, too.”

He watched as I closed my door and turned the ignition. Then he got into his car and I followed him across town to the Irish pub. His home turf.

I fretted the entire way, though keeping his brake lights ahead of me stopped me from running any red lights, as I worried about how Claudia would take such a betrayal. She talked about him incessantly. They’d only spent one night together, one I’d walked in on. And then he was on to his next conquest, and she was on to hers. Still, she kept talking about him as if he were the one, even as she bedded different men at least twice a week.

We pulled into the parking lot, Guinness signs glowing in the pub windows and people walking into the bar for a beer or two. I was too young to drink, but I could eat peanuts with the best of them.

I studied my reflection in the car mirror for a moment and tried to ignore the heat that thoughts of Eamon stirred in me. I needed to keep this short and get back home before anyone saw Eamon and me together and reported back to Claudia. That would be a disaster. All the same, I finger combed my hair and smoothed on some lip gloss.

I grabbed my wallet and left my purse and backpack in the car. Stepping onto the curb, Eamon was already waiting and took my elbow, leading me toward the door. The pub’s rock music wafted into the night and a burst of laughter hinted at good times within.

His fingers were steady on my arm, gentle pressure leading where he wanted me to go. We entered the pub, the smell of fried food and beer on the air. A long bar stretched along the left hand wall and tables were scattered through the rest of the room. Two pool tables were in the back, men playing as women watched and drank. Eamon led me to a booth against the wall.

I sat and scooted in, expecting him to sit across from me. Instead, he peered down at me and ticked his chin up in a “move over” look. I moved against the wall and he slid in next to me. The room was suddenly warmer, my limbs heavier, my breaths conspicuous and loud. His thigh touched mine and I could have sworn there was some sort of an electrical jolt pulsing through me, sending a current to my clit.

A waitress, clad in a low cut tank top and shorty-shorts, walked up and smiled big at Eamon. His eyes were on me, not even looking at the abundant spill of cleavage the waitress was sporting.

“I’ll have an O’Hara’s. Laurel?”

“Coke, please.” I smiled at the waitress who frowned back at me.

She hesitated, as if wanting to speak with Eamon, but he never even glanced in her direction. His eyes were on me the whole time. I blushed under his gaze. He seemed to relax into the booth further, letting his whole leg rest against mine. All muscle and strength.

After an exaggerated eye roll, the waitress walked away and returned with our drinks. She bent over and slid my drink to me, revealing her cleavage even more. Eamon slung his arm around my shoulders. I should have shrugged him off, especially given how Claudia felt about him. But I liked it, liked the feeling of being under his wing, even if it was selfish of me.

“Will that be all?” The waitress straightened, apparently giving up.

“No, I’ll have Lou’s special tonight. Make that two. You like burgers, love?” He asked me.

“I, um, sure. Yes.”

“Yeah, so two of those, and bring some cheese sticks, please.”

“Got it.” She turned on her high heel and left.

Eamon squeezed my shoulder and clicked his glass into mine. “Cheers.”

I sipped my drink as he took a long swig of his beer. He came away with a foam mustache, and I had the craziest impulse to lick it. I smiled and stifled my laugh.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Something on my face, love?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not a thing?”

“Nothing?”

“Nope. Everything is totally normal.”

He took another swig, even more foam collecting on his upper lip.

“How about now?”

I giggled. “Perfectly fine. I see nothing amiss.”

He leaned in, the beer a mix of sweet and rich on his breath. “Care for a taste?”

My heart leapt into my throat and I stared into his eyes, the blue even deeper in the dimness of the bar.

He pulled me closer, his fingertips pressing into my shoulder. Before I could back away, his mouth was on mine, his lips firm and warm. I clutched his shirt as he pushed me into the wall, caging me with his muscular body. My breath was gone, stolen by him as he licked along the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. He slid a hand down to my lower back and pulled me against him, pressing my breasts hard into his chest. I gasped at the friction on my nipples and he plunged his tongue into me.