Yes.
But for the first time in as long as I can remember, I lie to him. Because telling my dad about Cillian is only going to complicate an already complicated mess when it comes to the team. “Nope. Just… someone I know from class,” I say as I hop down from the counter and quickly respond to Cillian’s message.
Rory:I’m down.
Cillian:Meet me at Ivy &
Ale in an hour.
CHAPTER 17
Rory
Ispot Cillian as soon as I walk into the bar and grill, sitting at a table in the far back wearing a black long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows and the intricate tattoos on his forearms on full display.
It’s truly absurd how hot those tattoos make him.
Not that he wasn’t already hot, but there’s just something about the dark ink that seems to make him more intimidating, more intense. It makes something in my lower stomach clench.
He glances up from his phone when I pull the chair out across from him and sink into it.
The corner of his lip curves into a lazy grin when he greets me. “St. James.”
“Cairney.”
“Ready to do this?” He leans back against the chair and crosses his thick arms over his chest, those stupid tattoos rippling as he moves.
I shrug. “I think so, but I can’t be sure until we try. I tend to fold under pressure, as you know.”
A low raspy chuckle rumbles from his chest, and my grin widens.
I honestly thought it might feel a little… awkward? After the whole pretty-much-seeing-me-naked thing. But our rapport doesn’t feel any different.
The biggest difference is now I’m extremely aware of how attracted I am to him, and that I’m much more nervous than usual because of that.
The waiter comes by and takes our drink order, and when Cillian orders chips and queso, I stare at him from across the table with my brow lifted.
He ordered my favorite appetizer for me without having to even ask.
“What?” he asks.
“Ordering my favorite food is dangerouslysweetof you, Cillian Cairney. Better be careful, you wouldn’t want to jeopardize the whole broody, dick-ish thing you have going on over there.”
My tone is light and teasing, so he rolls his eyes. “Never really been one to worry about my reputation, St. James. Not going to start now. I think I’m probably safe.”
Before I can answer, my ice-cold Cherry Coke is dropped off at the table along with what looks like the cheesiest queso I’ve ever seen in my life, and I swear to God my mouth waters.
I swipe a still-warm tortilla chip from the bowl, dipping it into the cheese and bringing it to my mouth. Flavor explodes on my tongue, and my eyes drop shut as I groan.
“Christ, Rory.” Cillian grunts roughly causing my eyes to snap open.
“What?” I ask around a mouthful.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know how you make eating a bloody chip sound so sexy.”
My eyes almost pop out of my head, widening. I swallow the chip down as I begin to cough, reaching for my Cherry Coke and sucking down a gulp to wash away the food lodged in my throat.
My God.