A frown drew his forehead together. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that the story you read at the pub really happened?”
Stepping back, she turned and walked away. “Yes. Now let me change my shirt and jeans, and we can go.”
“Holy mother of God,” Ronan said. “Really? You attached your engagement ring…”
“Yes,” she called from the bedroom. “Yes, I really did.”
CHAPTER22
That night by the time they reachedThe Last Drop, the firelight glowed golden through the windows, casting a halo over the weather-worn pub like a promise. Laughter spilled into the night air, mingling with the scent of peat smoke and spilled beer, and Aisling felt, almost, like herself again.
Inside, Paddy spotted them immediately and waved them in with both arms like they were grand marshals in a parade. “There’s our favorite couple!”
Aisling flushed. Ronan looked smug enough to be knighted on the spot.
“You planned this,” she muttered, elbowing him as they ducked under a low beam and headed to their usual table in the back.
“Of course, I did,” he said without an ounce of shame. “We caused enough gossip last night to wake the dead. Tonight? We keep the legend alive. By tomorrow, they’ll be taking bets on our wedding date and naming their goats after us.”
She arched a brow. “You think pairing up with me in front of everyone will solidify our local power couple status?”
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Darlin’, we’re the O’Byrne-Gallagher fever dream. Forbidden. Feral. Infuriating.”
She huffed a laugh. “Infuriating, for sure.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m delightful.”
He leaned in close, voice low. “I just want to see you throw a dart and prove that terrifying rumor about you is true.”
“What rumor?”
“That you once nailed your ex’s manhood to your engagement ring.”
She choked on a laugh. “You know I did.”
“I worry about my safety.”
“As you should,” she said smiling. “I’m not a woman to be trifled with.”
“Don’t I know it.”
They slid into their seats, and he didn’t hesitate to brush his fingers against hers under the table. The touch was fleeting, but it lit a fuse low in her belly. That spark between them hadn’t dimmed—it just simmered like banked coals waiting for the right gust of wind to roar to life.
“So,” Ronan said, eyes glinting, “tell me more about this engagement ring revenge. I want to picture it as someone who’s getting dangerously attached to the woman who pulled it off.”
She blinked. He hadn’t saidlove, but that word,attached,made something flutter deep inside her chest.
“On the most important day for the small publishing house we both worked for, I came home to find Michael and my boss Samantha in bed together, drunk out of their minds. They’d been doing tequila shots and then somehow his penis slipped between her legs and they passed out naked in his bed. I simply handcuffed them to the headboard, attached my engagement ring with a padlock to his cock ring, and left. Then I went into the office to meet Patrick Wright, a famous author, and unbeknownst to me at the time, my father.”
Then she spent the next five minutes telling him about when she got to the office and what she did. When she finished, he ordered them another round of drinks.
By the time she finished, Ronan had ordered a third round and was staring at her like she’d just admitted to setting fire to a church, barefoot, and walking away unscathed.
“That is…” he started, then gave a low whistle. “Hot. In a terrifying way.”
She smirked. “You’re not the first man to say that.”
He took a sip of his whiskey. “Just promise me one thing.”
