I knew what I would see if I looked in a mirror: a freaking horror show of dark fuzz curling slightly toward the ceiling like devil horns.
No wonder he didn’t want to get in my “knickers.” I looked like an idiot.
The bathroom door squeaked. “Don’t leave, yeah?” he called quietly from the cracked door, making me shoot a startled look in his direction.
“Patrick…” I hedged, forcing my hands into my lap so I wouldn’t try to brush at the flyaways and draw even more attention to them.
“Mates call me Trick,” he replied with another wink.
When he closed the bathroom door again, I bolted off the couch and sprinted toward the front door. If I didn’t leave before he finished showering, I had a feeling I’d be just another girl who lost all common sense at the sight of Patrick Gallagher’s smile.
It was one thing to find him incredibly hot, but it was quite another to actually spend time with him… especially when I looked like crap.
Chapter 4
Amy
I was kidding myself if I thought I could avoid Patrick while he was staying at his mom’s.
I hadn’t been caught that morning. My mom had left a note saying that she’d gone to my room, but my door had been locked so she assumed I was sleeping and had left me be. Apparently, her and my dad would be gone for dinner so I had to ‘fend for myself.’ Like I hadn’t been doing that every night since I was ten.
I spent most of the day working on homework that I’d neglected the night before, and trying to forge some sort of excuse for my absence from school. It was a Friday, so thankfully I wouldn’t have to deal with the Sisters for a few days. Hopefully, I’d be able to legibly forge my mother’s signature by Monday.
At three that afternoon while I was reading on my bed, I almost pissed my pants when someone began knocking loudly on my window. When I turned toward it, I found Patrick Gallagher’s smiling face so close it was almost pressing up against the glass. Holy shit.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed, sliding the warped window open.
“Mum wanted me to come get ye. She t'inks yer angry about dis mornin’ since ye didn’t come for tea.”
“Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late.” I stepped away from the window to grab a pair of shoes and my favorite sweatshirt. “ I’ll be right out!”
He disappeared from the window and I wrapped my hair in a knot at my neck before pushing one of my legs though the opening, then ducking and twisting to get the rest of my body through.
“What de fuck are ye doin’?”
My head flew up and knocked the windowsill hard in surprise.
“I told you I’d be right out!” I sniped, hopping down into the grass before rubbing the small knot on the crown of my head.
“Forgive me for assumin’ ye’d go out de front door like a normal person.”
“You’re forgiven.”
I refused to look directly at him as I walked past, too embarrassed to meet his eyes and totally annoyed that he’d surprised me twice. I wished he would just leave already so I could go back to my relatively safe and normal life. Before I’d reached the end of the house, my arm was grabbed firmly and I was swung around to face him.
“Is dere a reason ye don’t care for me, or do ye generally hate all men?” His face was close enough to mine that I could taste the mint on his breath, and for a moment I was afraid I’d hyperventilate and swoon like a blushing maiden from one of my romance novels.
“I-I don’t dislike you,” I stuttered back, my heart thumping hard. “I don’t even know you.”
His grip suddenly softened and though I could’ve pulled away, I wasn’t able to actually make myself do it. He was staring at me, cataloguing each of my features with his eyes, and I was frozen.
“Ye disappeared dis mornin’.”
“I had stuff to do at home.”
“Ye always take a shower and den read all day instead of spendin’ time wit’ a new friend?”
“Were you spying on me?”
He laughed, squeezing my bicep before turning me and wrapping his arm companionably around my shoulders as he began to usher me toward Peg’s.
“Didn’t have to spy—just guessed. I know de type. By yer reaction, I’ll bet I was correct.” He let go of my shoulders and dropped his hand to my lower back to guide me up Peg’s front stairs.
“What type?” I asked, trying to focus on the conversation as his hand slid a little lower.
“Me type,” he whispered as we walked in the front door.
Peg chose that moment to come rushing out of the kitchen, a small towel hanging over her shoulder. “Amy! Ach, I’m so sorry I forgot to wake ye this mornin’!”
“That’s okay,” I reassured her as Patrick moved around me to drop onto the sofa. “I was really tired, anyway.”
“Well, come in and get yer snack, even though ye didn’t spend yer day at school. I made yer favorite!”
“How was work?” I asked as I followed Peg out of the small living room. “You look tired.”
“Eh, I’m always tired!” she stepped toward the counter then turned around with a flourish. “Strawberry shortcake!”
“Holy—” I ducked as her hand came flying toward my head. “You remembered! Thank you!”
I bounced on my toes until she’d set three bowls down, then wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. “You’re really great, you know that?”