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“I see,” I murmured as I sipped on my martini. I’d been here at Murphy’s for several hours, and I was starting to feel the few drinks I’d had. I was only slightly tipsy, but it felt good.
Maybe this night would turn out better than I’d expected after all.
I’d come out tonight because I’d needed to be around people. It was nice to have a night in by myself at home on occasion, but my social battery required being around people more often than not. Angus was usually good company, and the nights when my family were around were especially great. My brothers—Aiden and the twins Connor and Caden—were usually the ones that brought the party, at least these days.
The three of them were still single, just like me.
“So, what brings you into Murphy’s tonight?”
“I saw the place had good reviews. If I hadn’t already eaten dinner, I would have definitely given the apparently world-famous sweet potato waffle fries a try,” he replied, grinning.
“The waffle fries are really good, but the fish and chips are my favorite. The Irish soda bread is always really fresh, too. They’re actually my favorite things here, underrated, but especially delicious. Both dishes remind me of Ireland in the best way,” I suggested.
“I’ll have to keep those in mind,” he said, his voice light.
I sipped my martini, enjoying the feel of the buzz beneath my skin. I plucked the olive garnish out and popped one into my mouth, enjoying the salty, briny flavor. I had a second one before finishing off my drink. I lifted my hand and waved Angus over.
Shane cleared his throat, and I turned my head to see that his expression had hardened. One of his eyebrows lifted sternly and I half expected him to start scolding me.
No one had the balls to do that.
“Another martini, Angus. Just like the last one,” I ordered plainly.
This wasmybar, and I would do what I wanted in my bar. I knew my limits. I could outdrink most men. That was just a part of my Irish blood. I could more than handle myself.
Angus chuckled to himself, reading the situation between me and Shane in an instant. He shook his head, likely picturing how this might end for Shane, and began pouring the vodka, dry vermouth, and olive brine into a shaker. Within moments, I had a freshly made dirty vodka martini sitting in front of me, just waiting for me to drink it.
I pulled it closer to me and leveled my gaze with Shane’s, brashly daring him to get the nerve to scold me. We stared at each other for several long moments, the tension between us escalating to an all-time high.
It was invigorating, really.
I cocked my head to the side, smirking a little as his eyes narrowed. The glint of green in his eyes darkened visibly as he leaned in close to me. I cleared my throat, keeping still as I waited for something to happen.
In the past, I’d stood up to countless criminals. They’d tried everything with me, from buttering me up with sweet words to trying to force themselves on me because that was the world that we lived in.
My brothers had taught me how to protect myself.
But why was my heart racing? Why was there the tiniest inkling of nerves brewing in my belly from this mysterious stranger?
I didn’t want to understand it, so I pushed it away.
The scent of his cologne hit me next, making my blood surge with heated ferocity. There was a hint of Tahitian vanilla to it, but the more I concentrated, the more the scent of Indian sandalwood and Sicilian mandarin shone through. It was bold and distinctive. I wasn’t as familiar with colognes as I was with perfumes, but I could tell that it was likely pretty expensive.
That said he had good taste.
I glanced down, observing the gold cufflinks on his wrists. They were studded with diamond chips. He flexed his hand, noticing the direction of my gaze.
“You may drink your cocktail if you like, but if you do, I won’t be able to fuck you tonight because I’m not going to take you when you’re drunk, especially since it would be your first time.”
Fucking hell. The absoluteaudacityof men in this city. I knew he was too good to be true.
I sat back, tempering my response for a long moment. Who the fuck did he think he was? At first, my shock at being spoken to so recklessly reigned at the forefront. It was as though he thought he had access to my body without having to ask, like he assumed I’d go home with him and spread my legs for him just because he’d bought me a drink.
Fat fucking chance he was going to get anything now.
My furious irritation blazed, flickering red across my gaze as I leveled him with a glare. Now I was annoyed at myself, too, for even considering him in any sort of romantic light.
I loathed that my body responded to him regardless of what I was thinking. Why was his expectation making my clit pulse? Why did a tiny part of me want to test him to see what he would do?
