Emboldened, Cillian's hands start to roam a bit further, and I find that I want him to plunder every bit of me.
At least I want that, at first. My inhibitions are lowered from the alcohol and my common sense is blurred from the exhilaration of making out with a hot musician. But when one of his hands starts to undo the button on my pants, I start to snap out of the lust-induced haze I'm in.
My hand covers his and I say, "Wait."
Cillian slowly pulls his hand away and takes a small step back. His eyes search my face. "Too fast for you?"
I nod shyly, looking down at the floor. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"Don't be sorry, cailin alainn. Just be you." He smiles at me warmly and he doesn't look mad at all. "It's not a problem."
Giving me a kiss on my forehead, Cillian takes my hand and leads me back out to the party. My head is spinning, because God help me I wanted him to go further. I chew on my lip, wondering if I made a mistake... wondering if I missed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become a woman in the most sinfully naughty of ways. To give it up to a gorgeous Irish musician who I would probably never see again.
But no... I remember Cillian's last words. Just be you.
And I know I did the right thing, and clearly, he respected that.
Dropping me back off in Cady's care, Cillian tells me he'll be back and melts into the crowd.
"Where were you two?" Cady asks as she grabs my arm.
"Um..."
"You didn't... you and he didn't...?"
"God no, Cady. We just... kissed."
"He kissed you? I'm going to kill him."
"No, you're not," I admonish her. "Besides... it was nice and he was a gentleman."
Cady gave huge snort. "Cillian? A gentleman? That wanker doesn't want anything but to get in a girl's pants, Ren. I love him to death but he's not for you."
"How do you know he's not for me?"
"Well... for one... you live in the States. He lives here. But mainly, because he doesn't take girls seriously. He's just in it for... you know... the sex."
Cillian didn't seem that way with me. He didn't come on to me in an overtly sexual way, and his kisses, while steamy, were above board. He stopped when I asked him to stop, and he didn't make me feel guilty or call me a tease.
Cady glances at her watch. "Shit... we have to go. Da's goin' to kill us because we're out so late."
"Uncle Keefe is going to kill us because we've been drinking."
"Nah. We both turn eighteen in just a few months. Besides, as long as we get home safe, it's easy to smooth his feathers."
She takes my hand and starts leading me toward the door. I start to pull away from her because I want to say goodbye to Cillian. I want to give him my email address and ask him to stay in touch with me. As I'm thinking this, my eyes are scanning the party, looking desperately for that dark, shaggy head.
Then I see him... in the corner... with his arms around another girl, kissing her deeply. His hands are on her waist, pulling her hips flush with his.
My heart actually bottoms out with disappointment. I'm disappointed in Cillian that he could so easily forget that we were just kissing, and I'm disappointed in myself that I stopped him. Most of all, I'm disappointed that any of this is even bothering me in the first place, because come tomorrow, I'll be on a plane back home to the States and I'll never see him again.
Cady gives my hand another tug and pulls me out the door--the entire time I'm looking at Cillian kiss that girl.
Cady was right. I was nothing to him. When I said no, he didn't push me or pester me to give it up. And why would he? He could snap his fingers and have any other girl at that party in his arms in a matter of seconds.
Which is exactly what he did.
Suddenly, my longing for home grows tenfold. Just minutes ago, I was yearning to feel Cillian's body against mine, now I'm just yearning to get back to New Jersey and have my mom wrap her arms around me in a hug.
CHAPTER 1
Renner
Present Day
"I'm sorry I'm late, Uncle Keefe," I call out to the large man behind the bar, just as I duck under the service flap. Reaching underneath, I pull out a black apron and tie it around my waste.
"You're not late, Renner," he answers me back in his thick Irish brogue. "You're five minutes early."
I flash him a cheeky grin. "Yeah, but I'm usually fifteen minutes early, so that technically makes me ten minutes late."
Uncle Keefe tweaks me under the chin and laughs. "You're a good girl, Renner. Always so responsible."
Yup. That's me... a responsible girl. I'm habitually early wherever I go, I pay all of my bills five days before the due date, I plan everything because I hate surprises, and I'm as dull as a brick sometimes. I had hoped my decision to live in Ireland until I could figure out what to do with my life would make me live life a little more wildly. After all, it was a big deal to move here away from the security of my family.
At least my decision to move to Ireland was made spontaneously, so that should count for something. It was probably the only spontaneous thing I've ever done in my life.
And a new life is exactly what I need.
I've been living in Dublin now for three weeks and for the time being, I'm waitressing at my Uncle Keefe's restaurant and pub, The Hibernian. It's a wonderful place with over fifteen thousand square feet of dark mahogany floors boasting four separate bar areas, quiet nooks where you can sip on a pint to relax, and there's even a large stage in the back where some of Europe's best bands play. The Hibernian is practically a landmark that sits in the middle of Temple Bar just off the River Liffey and is a popular local and tourist hangout. Uncle Keefe has owned it for almost twenty years now and he makes a damn good living from it. He never even hesitated when I asked if I could work here. He just said, "Of course, ye can, lass," and before you know it, I had a new job.
Making sure my apron is stocked with a few pens and an order pad, I step back underneath the service flap.
"Do you want me working Section One again tonight, Uncle Keefe?"
"Sure enough and that's a good girl. There's a private party in the back and I might need you to help with that later."
"Gotcha."
I wasn't looking forward to helping with the private party. The few I'd worked so far were nothing but a bunch of drunks trying to cop a feel when I'd walk by, which is extremely annoying while trying to balance several pints on a serving tray.
Still, I was generally enjoying my work here. The people were usually very friendly and Uncle Keefe ran his business like a well-oiled machine. Which meant I never had any problem getting the drinks or food orders to the proper tables on time, which made for happy customers. When I was a flight attendant for Delta, it seemed I never had a flight where by at least one passenger didn't get extremely pissed off over something.
Of course, just the mere thought of my job with Delta has my good mood plummeting. My face still burns with shame and rage when I think of the circumstances of my dismissal. It was a situation that was wholly unfair to me--completely not my fault--and yet here I am... without my job as a flight attendant and hiding out in Ireland because of my mortification.
Mentally shaking my head so I can get back in the game, I try to think of all the things that are good in my life. I am currently living in a beautiful country, working in a job I am thoroughly enjoying--for the time being--and I am surrounded by loving family members. I really don't know what I would have done had Uncle Keefe not given me this job and welcomed me here with open arms.
Walking up to one of my tables, I give a warm smile to the family sitting there. A husband, wife, and two small children peruse a menu but look up as I approach.
"Hi. Welcome to The Hibernian. I'm Renner and I'll be serving you this evening. Can I get you some drinks to start?"
The husband looks at me in slight astonishment. "You're American?"
My smile turns brighter, always happy to meet up with a fellow Yank. "That's right. New Jersey.
How about you?"