Frustration makes tension hum through my muscles. Maybe I'm not as open as he and everyone else seem to think I should be. But what kind of person leaves the doors to a haunted house wide open for any unsuspecting beautiful stranger to wander in?
He sighs. “I'm not saying ride off into the sunset with the woman. I'm just asking you to not run from something just because it might—” he holds up a hand to silence me, “might, have a whiff of potential.”
“Who says this has potential?”
“If it doesn't, why do you look like a fuckin' deer in headlights?”
I open my mouth to protest, but no words make it past the lump in my throat.
“Stay. And if nothing good comes of it, I'll let you get a few solid hits on me in the ring.”
Before I can say anything, Lucy returns with a plus one.
“You already know Cillian,” Lucy gestures to me.
Toni meets my eyes, and all the air leaves the room. “Small world,” she says in greeting.
Stunning. Simply stunning. The low neck of her dress exposes her chest, the shadow of her collar bones, the curve of her shoulders, the peonies tumbling down her arms. My mindis flooded with memories of how her skin feels under my fingers and how much I want to see that deep crimson lipstick smeared across her face.
“Yeah.” My tongue feels too big for my mouth.
“Going somewhere?” Lucy asks the two of us.
“No,” I shake my head both for emphasis and in a useless attempt to clear my thoughts. “Just getting more drinks.”
“We already did that,” Lucy says.
“I'm Oliver.” He holds out a hand to Toni.
She takes it, smiling warmly. “Toni.”
Oliver returns to his seat, but I seem unable to move.
“You wanna sit so Toni can join us, or are you just gonna stand there?” Lucy asks.
I glare at her even though I'm grateful the question makes my body take action. Sliding back into the booth, I press myself as far into the corner as possible to avoid crowding Toni.
“I am so sorry,” I whisper to her when she sits.
“Don't be.” Her perfume teases my nose, I want to lean closer, pick out the notes, ask her what she likes about the scent. “Unless this is weird and?—”
“No!” I say a bit too fast, so grateful for the server distracting the others with our drink order. “Not at all. I just don't want you to think I sent my friend over to harass you.”
“I made it clear this was a Lucy decision and not a Cillian one,” Lucy interjects.
“It's rude to listen to other people's conversations,” I say.
“First off, you're less than three feet from me. Secondly, she's my new friend.” Lucy passes Toni her cocktail. “Your gin and tonic, love. And Cillian, the usual.”
“Maybe I wanted something else,” I say, accepting the whiskey.
“You didn't,” Lucy says dismissively, passing Oliver hisscotch. “Despite making a mean drink, the man almost always gets Jameson. Neat. So reliably Irish.”
“I'm telling Dad you're besmirching our people.”
Lucy laughs. “Not your people, just you.” She winks. “Besides, Mickey could never be mad at me.”
“You know she's right,” Oliver says.
