Page 5

5

L ater that evening, I meet up with Nina at a little bistro around the corner.

Normally we would go on culinary expeditions, trying octopus sushi near the Bay, or homemade souvlaki at a tiny Greek eatery, but as a pregnant woman she has to be more careful about what she eats, so we play it safe.

But then again, maybe playing it safe is something that just happens once you turn thirty and get old.

“There you are!” Nina calls as I enter the restaurant. She stands up and hugs me. “Happy birthday again, all the best!”

“Thank you,” I reply, grinning and hugging her tightly to me. Nina is like family; the only family I have in the city, since my parents became a cliché and moved to Florida a few years ago.

They want to spend their retirement away from all the constant fog in San Francisco, which I can understand. At least I have Nina.

“Did you have a lot of fun after I left?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Maybe a little,” I say with a grin.

“Uh-huh. I saw what that dude was packing. I knew you had more than a little fun,” she laughs, showing his length with her hands.

I blush, but my grin widens. “Add another few inches to your measurements. You haven’t seen him stiff.”

Her eyebrows rise into her forehead, and she clucks her tongue in appreciation. “Good on you. When will you see him again?”

“You know I never go back for seconds with a guy.”

She narrows her eyes. “That’s already a lie, because I bet you’ve done it more than once with him.”

“I mean, not more than one encounter. We had sex. Now we forget each other.”

Nina rolls her eyes. “Ah yes, your weird rule. Does that seriously mean you won’t see Roan again?”

I avert my eyes. “Well, I’m seeing him tomorrow, actually. But just as friends. Nothing more.”

She immediately grins. “Friends with certain…benefits?”

“Nope, no benefits,” I say firmly.

“Why not?” She looks at me like I’m talking nonsense.

I play with my cocktail napkin. “I’m just not ready for anything serious yet. But he’s cool, and if a friendship develops, then I’ll be happy.”

“You know, friends with benefits can work,” she says. “Two people can have sex multiple times without commitment.”

I sigh. “But then the guys always get so clingy. No matter how much I try to stay friends, a bond grows, and then there’s intimacy…” I shudder. “I’ve already tried it. Doesn’t work.”

“But only friendship will work?” Nina counters.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it,” I admit with a shrug. “But I’m willing to because I like him.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Okay, then you have to test the theory.”

“Exactly.”

She bites her lip, then continues, “I just don’t want you to miss out on something that could be great, just because you’re scared.”

I shake my head. “Don’t worry.“

She shrugs, dropping the subject. “All right then. By the way, sorry again that I just fell asleep the other night. Although, you should be grateful to me. If I’d been there, you wouldn’t have had the sex-a-thon.”

“Oh, I’m so grateful.” I roll my eyes dramatically but smile at her. “No, but seriously, even though it was great with Roan, I’ll always prefer an evening with you. You’re my bestie.”

She grabs my hand as tears roll down her cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m crying now.”

“Because you’re pregnant and even puppy commercials make you cry.”

She wipes her tears away. “True, but you’re also my bestie.”

We hug tightly. It’s always nice to spend time with Nina. No wonder she’s been my best friend for so long. We just click.

“By the way, Jared has agreed to let you come into the delivery room,” Nina sniffles, pulling away from our hug.

I force a smile. “Uh, wow. That’s…great.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “A little more enthusiasm, please!”

I broaden my smile, but the idea of seeing Nina give birth secretly scares the crap out of me. “Of course I’m there for you if you need me, but I won’t be mad if you two decide to do it on your own.”

“Jared has seen a birthing video, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to faint. I need someone I can trust not to puke or pass out.”

“What makes you so sure it’s me?”

She shrugs, like the answer is simple. “You’re my bestie.”

I nod. “Then I’ll be there.”

Later, I walk Nina home. She lovingly complains that Jared and I treat her like she’s made of glass, but I think she’s secretly pleased to know that we care so much about her wellbeing.

Jared is definitely one of the good guys. He’s never questioned that our friendship is a particularly close one. We get our periods at the same time, that’s how in tune we are with each other. We used to hold each other’s hair when we had to throw up after a night of drinking. You can’t get any closer than that.

He has always accepted that there are things that she only shares with me. That I know her better than he ever will. It’s a kind of love triangle, only without jealousy.

I drop her off with Jared, who hugs her gently. They’re so cute together it’s almost disgusting. Jared offers me a ride home, but I decline, knowing he wants to spend time with Nina.

After all, it’s only a few blocks to my apartment. It had been a major condition of Nina moving out—that she stays close by and not move out to the suburbs or something.

This way, we can still visit each other spontaneously. It’s perfect.

When I get home, I lie down on the couch and watch a bit of TV before falling asleep.

And the next evening at eight, I push open the door to the pub . Cian’s . An extremely imaginative name, considering who owns the pub. But I’m totally uncreative, so I have no right to say anything. I would probably call my bar Jenna’s . Or Scott’s . Maybe even Princess Sophia . Now everyone knows what I watched last night.

It’s full, loud, and crowded. There’s not a free table to find, and since I can’t see Roan anywhere either, I decide to grab one of the last free stools at the bar.

The barman looks up as he draws beer. It’s Roan’s brother, the one I saw at the cage match, which isn’t really surprising, as it’s his pub.

He smiles at me. “Ms. Scott, it’s good to see you again.”

“You can just call me Jenna,” I say, smiling at his cheerful good humor.

Grinning, he comes over to me and offers me his hand, and I shake it. “Cian.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“And you. Roan’s in the kitchen,” he explains. “You can go back if you like, or I can get you something to drink.”

I shrug briefly before saying, “I’ll go and check on him, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure.” He points to the door. “Just follow your nose. Although…sometimes that’s not a good idea.”

He gives me a friendly wink, and I can’t help but smile at his natural charm. What is it about these brothers that makes them particularly sexy? Or is it Irish men in general that have this captivating way about them?

I push open the swinging door and find myself in the kitchen, where organized chaos reigns. The cooks and staff move seamlessly around each other, like a well-oiled team. I look for Roan. When my eyes land on him, I smile.

God, he’s hot.

No, no, no. I can’t think about him like that anymore. We are friends. That’s all we are.

Just friends , I insist, even while my eyes caress his ass as he moves behind the cook’s counter. He must feel my heated eyes on him, because he looks up.

He grins. “Hey! There you are.”

He comes around the counter and I go to him. He hugs me, and my whole body goes fuzzy. I must also forget that he has a body at all. A toned, rock hard, muscled body. There’s no other way.

Flashbacks of our time together dance through my mind; my nipples harden and I feel moisture pool between my legs.

Oh yeah, this friendship is off to a great start.

“Hi,” I croak.

He grins at me, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to my body. “All good?”

I nod. “Yes, all good.”

He turns his attention to the grill, which the assistant cooks are now tending. “I need a few more minutes, but then we can grab something to eat if you like.”

My stomach starts to grumble at the delicious aromas surrounding me.

“I’d love to.”

I lean against the countertop, looking at Roan’s hands, which were so strong during the fight, so gentle on my skin, and now so incredibly precise as he fillets a thin piece of meat.

“Isn’t that a job for an underling, instead of the head chef?” I ask with a smirk.

He grins back at me. “We don’t take the hierarchy too seriously here. Sometimes I even peel potatoes.”

“Wow, you anarchist,” I say dryly, leaning forward to see how expertly he is working.

“Just mock, you unbeliever.”

I nod to his pots. “What will it be when it’s finished?”

“Oh, just beef stew.”

“Just.”

Grinning, he explains: “Irish cuisine is very meat-and-potatoes heavy, so it’s what our guests expect.”

“I see. What’s your favorite food?”

“My favorite Irish food? Or my favorite food in general?”

“Both.”

He pauses a moment to consider, his eyes still focused on his task. “Sunday roasts when it comes to Irish food, otherwise I like burgers.”

“What kind of Sunday roast?” I ask. An inner voice asks me since when I care so much about my one-night stand’s food preferences, or anything at all after a night together, but I shove it back in its corner.

“Probably a nice piece of pork that’s been cooking for hours and hours.”

“Hmm, interesting. And why burgers?”

“Because they look simple but are incredibly diverse.”

“So, you don’t mean the kind of burgers you get at a fast-food joint?”

He shakes his head. “No. I mean the kind where the burger buns are homemade, the meat is shaped by hand, or the veggie patty is made from scratch.”

“Veggie patty?”

Roan shrugs. “I like burgers in every variation. Lamb burgers, salmon burgers, black bean burgers, veggie burgers, hamburgers, and everything else there is."

“And what’s your favorite kind of burger?”

“My favorite is a thick beef burger with cheddar, a few jalapenos and a side of lettuce, tomatoes and pickles. That’s it.”

Just the description is making my mouth water. “That sounds good.”

“If you like burgers, we can make some together. With fresh-baked brioche rolls, hot from the oven. That’s the only way.”

He has finished cutting up the meat, and gives the plate to a colleague before washing his hands, taking off his apron, and gesturing for me to follow him.

“There aren’t any free tables in the restaurant,” I inform him.

“Good sign. We can sit at the bar, if that’s okay with you.”

I shrug. “Sure.”

Cian grins at us as we sit down. “You found him. I take it he didn’t burn down the kitchen.”

Roan glares at his brother. “Hey, that was only once. It’s unfair to keep bringing it up.”

Cian just laughs before turning to me. “What would you like to drink?”

“Can I just have a drink of water?” I ask, a little abashedly. “At thirty, you don’t regenerate as quickly after a night of drinking.”

“That’s totally fine but let me make you something else.” Cian grins at me, then scoops some ice into a glass and gets to work.

There’s something reassuring about watching a professional go about a task. Something rhythmic. It reminds me a little of watching Roan in the MMA cage. Like he already knows all the steps.

“How was your day?” Roan asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I look at him. God, he’s so hot.

Stop it, Jenna. Stop thinking about his thick auburn hair and his sharp-as-glass jawline. Just stop.

But it’s not that easy. This is going to be an agonizing friendship.

“Oh, it was great,” I say breezily. “If you enjoy correcting homework all day, preparing for the next exams in between, and having to deal with students.”

He looks at me in surprise. “I guess I didn’t know what you do for a living. Homework? Exams? Are you a teacher?”

I nod. “I teach at the university.”

He looks at me and nods, clearly impressed. “Wow! Aren’t you too young for that?”

“I’m thirty.” I still can’t say it without making a face, and he laughs.

“Don’t say it like your life is over. What’s Cian supposed to say? After all, he’s already thirty-four!” Roan says, his eyes wide in mock-horror.

“I heard that, little brother, and I’m not sure you’re getting a drink anymore.” Cian returns and puts a glass in front of me. “Here. Try this.”

It’s a kind of lemonade. With club soda, fresh-squeezed lemon and mint, by the looks of it. I hope he didn’t put any alcohol in it. I taste it hesitantly before taking a big sip. It’s tart, sweet and then refreshingly minty. The perfect combination.

I laugh as I put the glass down. “This is probably the best mocktail I’ve ever had.”

Cian grins. “Thanks. It’s my secret recipe.”

“You don’t have to tell me your secret. The important thing is that you keep making them for me.”

He chuckles. “That can be arranged.” Then he slaps Roan on the shoulder. “I like this one, kid.”

Roan shrugs and shakes his head. “Yeah, but we’re just friends.”

Cian looks at me in disbelief, and I nod. “That’s right. Just friends.”

He looks at me doubtfully before shrugging. “You’ll work it out, kids.”

A customer comes up to the bar, and Cian turns back to his work.

Roan looks at me and says, “So, we were talking about your job? I thought all university professors were old and fossilized.”

I smother a grin. “A lot of them are, but obviously there are also younger ones.”

“Well, that’s good to know. And what do you teach?”

“Political Science.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s pretty cool. Unfortunately, I really don’t know much about politics. I’m not that interested, to be honest.”

I frown. “I hope you vote, at least,” I say, only half-joking.

Roan looks a little embarrassed and says nothing.

“No? You can’t be serious!” I say, horrified.

He raises his hands in a helpless gesture. “Hey, in my defense…”

“There’s honestly no defense at all.”

“Can I finish?” he asks with a grin.

“Only if you’re not talking nonsense,” I reply.

Cian laughs, coming back over to our end of the bar. “You can’t hope for that.”

“Go wash the glasses,” Roan grumbles. After a vulgar gesture from his brother, he looks at me again. “Anyway, I’m just not sure voting makes a difference.”

“Of course it does!” I say passionately, aware I’m standing on a soapbox but not caring. “Look at all the protests. It is, hopefully, a time of change, of waking up, of creating a fairer future where our planet is finally taken care of. We don’t have long before we reach a point where we have irreparably damaged it.”

He nods. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

I blink at him, having prepared for him to put up more of an argument. “That was easy.”

He grins. “Sometimes it just takes a well-placed kick up the ass to turn something you’ve been thinking about for a while into a reality. So, what’s the next step?”

“You have to register as a voter if you haven’t already done so. And then you can take part in the next election, either in person or by mail-in ballot.”

“I’ll probably be able to manage that.”

“And if you took your whole family, who aren’t registered yet, that would be great.” I smile at him.

“Not everyone,” Cian interrupts. “Uncle Colum would easily manage to put the cross in the wrong place.”

Roan runs his hand through his short hair. “There’s no hope for him. Not just because of his political views. In general.”

“True.”

“Okay, then don’t take him with you. But maybe someone else will come along.” Then I look at Cian. “What about you? Are you registered?”

“No.”

I turn to Roan. “Then take him with you too.”

He looks at his brother, then at me. “Have you had a look at him? If he doesn’t want to do something, you can’t get him to do it.”

“Excuse me, who’s the badass fighter here?”

Cian grins before crossing his massive arms in front of his chest. “Try it, kid. That’s never worked before.”

“Time is on our side, brother,” I hear an unfamiliar voice say on my other side.

An equally large, but not quite as massive body slides onto the chair next to me. I look at him.

Is this some kind of practical joke? Why do these—judging by their words—brothers all look like they’ve just stepped out of a men’s underwear catalog?

The new one seems to be a little younger than Cian and Roan, but otherwise, he looks a lot like them. Except for his hair—he has more blond in his hair, not as much red as Roan, and lighter than Cian’s light brown.

Cian laughs at the newcomer. “Do you think so? I will still be able to beat you two when we’re eighty.”

The new guy grins. “No, you’ll be eighty; you’re the oldest. And Roan will be seventy-seven, and I’ll be seventy-four. That’s when me being the youngest will finally come in handy, and I’ll kick all of your rickety asses.”

Cian chuckles, clearly used to not taking his little brother seriously. “Time will tell, but I won’t get my hopes up.”

“Eoin is the endless optimist,” interjects Roan.

“How many brothers do you have?” I ask, curious as to how many more gorgeous men I could expect to pop out of the woodwork.

Eoin looks at me as if he’s only just seen me. “And you are?”

I can’t help but flush under his direct gaze. “Jenna.”

A lecherous smile slowly spreads across his face as comprehension dawns. “Ah, so you’re the famous Jenna.”

“Famous?” I ask, looking at Roan in surprise and irritation. What did he tell them about our night together?

He grins. “Oh yeah. Cillian has already told me so much about you.”

“Did he?” comes an icy voice.

I look over to see Cian standing in front of us with a stony expression, his large hands splayed against the counter.

Roan looks at me, frowning. Then he looks at Cian and Eoin. “What’s going on that I don’t know about?”

I don’t want to bring more trouble in Roan’s family. Not when the damage has already been done.

“It’s nothing,” I say. “Everything is fine.”

But Roan must have already read something on Cian’s face because he shakes his head.

“What did he do?” he asks with visibly suppressed anger.

Before I can answer, Cian interjects, “She’s his professor at Berkeley, and he was talking some stupid shit at her from the side during the fight. I shut it down, but he got his panties in a twist about it.”

“What do you mean?” demands Roan.

Eoin scratches his head before saying sheepishly, “He was bragging about putting her in her place.”

I look at him and shake my head. He shrugs apologetically.

“Why are you shaking your head?” Cian and Roan ask at the same time.

I sigh and roll my eyes, which makes Eoin grin.

“It’s all fine,” I reply.

By the way, I definitely have to take back everything I’ve thought about Irish men so far, because right now there’s definitely too much testosterone in the room. I do like it when they’re bad boys, but I also think equality is pretty awesome.

“Jenna, look at me,” Roan insists. I reluctantly drag my eyes to meet his. “You would tell me if something had happened, wouldn’t you?”

“Seriously, it wasn’t a big deal?—”

“Jenna…” Roan interrupts. Despite his insistent tone, a pleasant shiver runs down my spine. I love it when he says my name.

Just as I’m trying to decide how much of the truth to tell him, a familiar, unpleasant voice interrupts me.

“Ah, Ms. Scott. Pleasure seeing you here again.”

I close my eyes because Cillian Walsh is the last person I want to see right now.

“Roan clearly didn’t satisfy you enough if you’re already here asking for seconds,” he drawls. “Maybe I can help?”

Before I can react, Roan grabs him by the collar. Cian comes out from behind the bar half a second later, and even Eoin moves to stand in front of me protectively.

Wow. What was I just saying about too much testosterone in this family? ‘Cause I have to admit, it’s pretty hot having three powerful men jump to defend my honor.

“Be careful, Cillian. You’re treading on thin ice,” growls Roan, pulling his younger cousin toward him.

Cillian laughs nervously. “Hey, dude, I thought blood was thicker than blondes.” He squirms to break free, but he’s no match for Roan’s powerful muscles.

“What did you do to Jenna?” His voice is so low and husky that it sends a shudder right down to my toes.

“She tried to ruin my graduation!” hisses Cillian angrily. Whether he’s pissed at me or because he can’t free himself from his cousin’s grip is not entirely clear.

“What did you do in return?” Roan asks. He sounds so dangerous that I inevitably take a step back and bump into the counter.

“What’s going on here?” interrupts a female voice.

I look over and see a woman who can only be related to these men. Clearly, the women got their fair share of the gorgeous gene as well. This woman is tall, curvy in all the right places, with long, flowing, dark blonde hair. She probably has ten men on each finger. She’s got the face and figure of a beauty queen.

“Orla, can you tell this brutal horndog to let go of me?” Cillian calls, still squirming under Roan’s steel grip.

Orla snorts. “If Roan’s got you by the neck, you probably deserve it.” She looks to Cian, who is clearly the oldest and, therefore, meant to be the voice of reason. “What’s going on?”

Cian rolls his eyes. “Cillian is being his charming self again, only this time he’s messed with the wrong girl.”

Orla looks at me. “Why is she the wrong one?”

“Because Roan likes her,” interjects Eoin.

Roan gives his little brother a look that I can’t interpret. “We’re just friends.”

Cian gives a scoffing laugh but refrains from commenting.

“Yes, of course,” says Eoin. “ Friends .”

She looks at me, and I can’t read the look in her eyes. “And you’re the point of contention in my family?”

I return her appraising gaze. “People usually call me Jenna.”

She grins. “You want to tell me what’s going on then, Jenna?”

“There’s nothing going on. Everything’s fine,” I say, just wanting this scene to be over.

“There, you heard it. I didn’t do anything,” Cillian defends himself.

I hide my grimace of distaste. What kind of coward hides behind the skirts of the person he’s insulted?

“Let him go, Roan. He’s starting to turn purple,” says Orla with a sigh.

“You’re not the boss,” growls Roan.

“Yes, I am, as we all know,” she returns.

“Just because you’re three days older than me,” says Cian, “doesn’t make you the boss.”

I mentally fit her into my growing mental map of Roan’s family tree.

She grins. “Except it does.”

Roan takes a deep breath but releases his cousin.

Eoin laughs softly. “Good thing a little girl was here to save you.”

Cillian glares at Roan, clearly thinking that he is now under Orla’s protection. “Whatever. It’s not my fault that your so-called friend is a slut.”