Page 2

Chapter 2

Claire

I ’m cursed.

That’s the only explanation.

Otherwise, why else would I be sitting in the bar at my favorite restaurant’s bar during happy hour waiting for a date that was supposed to start thirty minutes ago?

We’d confirmed doing happy hour together and now happy hour was winding down and I’d heard nothing from him for the last hour.

I even met this guy from a different app than the first two!

I know guys can be assholes, but none of these had sent me dick pics so they were already worth considering.

Then, day of meeting face-to-face, absolute silence.

Not even an “I’m sorry, something came up,” the next day.

I’d even made it pretty clear that tonight, if we hit it off well and both want to, I’d be down for some action.

I’ve been on a dry spell long enough my favorite vibrator was asking for mercy.

Add in that I’ve been in a grueling interview process for my dream position as the Creative Director for a nonprofit youth charity, I really wanted to blow some steam off tonight.

Resignation weighs down my shoulders from another disappointing evening.

I grab the white wine I’d been nursing since I’d arrived and tossed it back.

At least this place has amazing food.

I’d been picking at the black bean hummus platter and queso fundido I’d ordered, trying to pace myself while waiting for the guy to show.

I’d text my best friend to come join me, but Lizzy is stuck at her office with her asshole boss on a late night project.

I might as well order another drink before happy hour is over.

Just because I’m rolling solo tonight doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself since I’m here.

I make eye contact with my server, who heads right over.

I don’t let the sympathetic look in her eyes affect the smile I’m forcing.

I look good as hell tonight.

I’d tamed my golden curls into a playful style by pinning half of it back and I wore my favorite outfit.

When I arrived, I’d draped my crisp, tailored navy blazer over the back of my barstool so the delicate ivory lace camisole showed off my shoulders that flirts with the line between sweet and seductive.

My pants, perfectly matching the blazer, hug me just right to show off the slimmest part of my waist and have my smaller butt looking hot.

After leaving work, I’d exchanged my black flats for nude heels, and replaced my clear lip gloss with my favorite red-pink lipstick with a velvety matte finish.

It looks like my vibrator gets the benefit of all of my effort to look nice and be freshly shaved.

The waitress—Lara, I think she said her name was—arrives at the high-top I’ve claimed.

I tell her I’ll have a fresh peach whiskey sour just as someone slides into the empty seat across from me.

I haven’t been stood up!

I smile, distracted from ordering as I get ready to greet Greg.

Except across from me isn’t Greg.

I freeze, grin stuck in place as my mind struggles to see how this is possible.

“Sorry I’m late. The meeting ran long.” Liam O’Reilly smiles at the waitress, the same smile that has been melting panties and turning good girls bad since he hit puberty.

“I’ll take a whiskey neat. Jameson Black Barrel if you have it, Bushmills if you don’t.”

She blushes and stammers as she confirms, standing for a moment longer staring at Liam before hurrying towards the bar.

He’s looking at me, and I’m still a fly stuck in his spider web.

It’s been ten years since I’ve seen him—since that awful day he broke my heart and the horrible decision I made that night.

He wasn’t even at my brother’s funeral eight years ago and they’d once been best friends.

I can’t blame her for staring though.

If he was gorgeous at 23, he’s devastating now.

He’s wearing a deep red button down, the top few buttons undone, showing he’s added tattoos over time, paired with black jeans that show off his muscular thighs.

His dark brown hair is tousled in a way that lets you know it’s supposed to look messy.

He has a five o’clock shadow that only emphasizes his sharp jawline.

Those gray-blue eyes seem to pierce into me, reminding me of a wolf’s gaze.

Which makes sense, considering I know what he really is.

A werewolf.

All of the men in the O’Reilly family are.

He watches me and I remind myself how much of an asshole Liam is.

How he broke my heart at 16, how cruel he was about it, and how he couldn’t even be bothered to show up to his supposed best friend’s funeral.

Liam doesn’t deserve anything from me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

As his eyes track the movement, I wish I hadn’t taken off my blazer.

My nipples tighten as his gaze is practically a caress.

No, I will not let him cause a reaction in me.

My lady bits can suck it up—this is not a man I’d be willing to end the dry spell with.

“You look good, Claire.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I snap, my hackles raising.

“Now, why are you here?”

The server brings us our drink and asks if we’d like a menu.

Liam answers before I can, telling her he’s fine with just the drink and asking for a few more minutes to figure things out.

He smiles at her, the charming one that makes it seem like you’re the only person in the world.

I take a desperate drink of my whiskey sour and he raises his tumbler as if in toast.

“Good to know your taste in alcohol has matured from vanilla vodka.”

I set the glass down on the table, toying with it between my hands.

I can’t look at him when I mutter, “I haven’t touched vanilla vodka since that night.”

His only reply is a grunt.

Silence builds between us and I struggle under the weight of his stare.

Irritation snaps inside me and I shoot him a glare.

“Seriously, why are you here?” I demand.

“If you’re here just to mess with me, I’m leaving and you can cover the bill.”

His lip quirks up in a smirk.

“You’ve grown claws.” When I slide off the bar stool, he raises a hand in supplication.

“There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

I hesitate, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

I’m not stupid.

I know Liam is a part of the Irish mafia that’s here in Savannah.

His dad is the boss, something my brother Seth told me even though he wasn’t supposed to.

Seth thought Liam was amazing and envied Liam’s ability to change into a werewolf.

Liam and his family lived down the street until his dad bought an estate out on the outskirts of the city after Liam graduated high school.

Whatever Liam wants to discuss with me can’t be good.

“Did you kill my date?”

Liam scoffs.

“No. Greg just remembered he had something else to do tonight.” He inclines his head towards the stool and I’m sitting before I realize I obeyed him without question.

Crossing my arms again, I then raise one to wave at him to start as if I’m his queen.

“I’m here to collect that favor you owe me.”

I frown, confusion at his meaning before it finally hits.

He’s talking about owing him after saving me from the consequences of a stupid decision I made.

My cheeks flame at the shame I still feel from that night.

Gritting my teeth, I try to shrug like it’s no big deal.

“Fine. What do you want?”

His steel blue eyes hold mine.

My heart rises into my throat as a trickle of apprehension trickles down my spine.

Whatever he’s going to say, I know I’m not going to like it.

A moment later, I know I’m right.

“You are going to marry me.”