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Pulling up in front of the Irish pub restaurant, McClintock’s, I kill the engine. She hops off my bike, and I throw my leg over to join her.
“What are we doing here?”
Turning my head, I look up at the pub, then back to her. “Dinner and maybe a few drinks.”
“You took me all the way here for dinner?” she asks.
“It was only twenty minutes, sweetness.”
I’m confused as fuck. I’m not sure why she would think that this was some big deal. The guys and I come out here all the time. It’s just one town over. It’s not like it’s even a day trip. It’s more of a jaunt if I had to describe it.
“Yeah, but I haven’t even been here since I was a kid. I don’t have a car.”
I almost ask her if anyone has ever brought her here, like even her parents, but then I remember her brother and assume her parents are more like him and less like her. Reaching out, I take her hand and squeeze it gently.
“Well, you’re here now. This place has some good food, and then we can do whatever the fuck you want. We can take the ghost tour if you want to.”
Her eyes widen, and her lips part in awe before she speaks. “There’s a ghost tour?” she asks on a whisper.
Leaning forward, I touch my lips to the corner of hers. “Yeah, sweetness,” I murmur. “There’s a fuckin’ ghost tour.”
The music is playing loud as we walk into the pub. They’ve got a live singer tonight. She’s strumming her guitar and wailing away on a country tune. The hostess asks how many, and when I tell her two, she smiles and jerks her head as she walks toward the back of the pub.
I’m glad we’re a ways away from the music, not that it’s bad or anything, but because I want to be able to talk with Shawn a bit. I want to learn more about her. She intrigues me in more than one way, and I’m ready to discover all there is to know about her, and then maybe tonight, she’ll let me fuck her.
And if she doesn’t, I’ll keep working on her because I’m here for the chase. Although, I don’t know how I’m going to feel once I’ve caught her. Will I get bored? Will I be done with the whole thing? Or will I want to keep her all for myself?
CHAPTER
EIGHT
SHAWN
I want to ask him what his real name is or if there is anything else he goes by, but I don’t think he wants me to know. Wouldn’t he have introduced himself by that name if he wanted me to know it? Also, I’m not sure why I’m rambling to myself inside my own head as I stare at him.
We’ve ordered our food and drinks, we’re listening to music, and I watch as he shifts in his chair then leans over slightly, placing his palms on the center of the table. “I don’t know much about you, Shawn. Tell me something.”
My eyes widen. I don’t know what to say. His lips twitch into a smile, and he leans back in his seat, his gaze searching my own. “Tell me about your shop. How did you get your own bakery at such a young age? I assume you’re young. You look it.”
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I flick my eyes down at the table, then lift them back up to meet his. “I’m twenty-three,” I whisper. He laughs softly.
“You’re young. Too young for me. I should stand up and walk right the fuck out of here before I ruin every single part of you.”
A thrill of desire slides down my spine at his words. I don’t want him to leave. I know he’s older than me, and I like it. I think. It’s not like I have a lot of experience. What would be wrong about the fact that he’s older than me? We’re both adults…
“We are,” he murmurs. “But I’ve lived a whole life before you were even born.”
My eyes widen, and I lean in even more. “How much older than me are you?”
“Fourteen years older. I’m almost thirty-eight.”
I bite my bottom lip and shrug a shoulder. “That’s not too bad,” I say.
Maybe I shouldn’t be okay with this. Maybe it’s wrong, but it really doesn’t bother me. If I like him and he likes me, then what does our age difference matter? It’s not like I’m a teenager any longer.
“So it bothers you?” I ask. “Because it doesn’t bother me at all.”
He shifts back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine, then he clears his throat and lifts his beer to his lips to take a pull. I watch him, waiting for what he’s going to say, but instead of speaking, the waiter appears with our dinner.
