Just two glacial, silent death glares.
Perfect.
She marched to the bar and slid onto a stool, tossing her bag onto the counter with more force than necessary. Paddy, polishing glasses like he had all the time in the world, gave her a sidelong grin.
"Evening, Aisling," he said, pouring her usual without asking. "Lovely night for a public standoff, isn't it?"
"You were right," she muttered, accepting her drink. "About all of it."
Paddy chuckled. "Takes a stubborn woman to admit it. Proud of ya.”
“I’ve not met him, but I officially hate Séamus Gallagher.”
Paddy nodded. “He’s a contrary old goat.”
She raised her glass in mock salute and sipped. Fire burned down her throat, but it was a good kind of burn. The kind that said she was alive, furious, and absolutely not crying into her pillow tonight.
When her name was called, she didn't hesitate.
She grabbed the second chapter she’d polished to within an inch of its life, strode up to the little stage, and adjusted the microphone.
"Evening," she said. "This is chapter two of my story. Hope you enjoy it."
And oh, they did.
She had themhookedfrom the first sentence.
Laughs in the right places. Gasps when her heroine delivered a savage one-liner.
When she finished, the pub erupted in claps and a few loud whistles.
She bowed slightly, grinning, feeling lighter than she had in days.
And then Ronan’s name was called.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him saunter to the stage with the casual confidence of a man whoknewhe had the whole damn room eating out of his hand. He flipped open a folder and started reading.
It only took two paragraphs before Aisling's blood pressure spiked.
No. No, no, no.
She shot up from her chair mid-sentence and pointed at him like an avenging angel.
"What the hell is this?" she demanded, loud enough that half the pub gasped and the other half leaned in, grinning like hyenas at a fresh kill.
Ronan stopped, mid-read, and raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, did you forget how public readings work?"
"You forgot how editing works!" she snapped. "I fixed that chapter. I spenthoursfixing that chapter. And you went right back to the old, wandering-in-the-roses crap.”
The crowd howled with laughter.
Ronan crossed his arms over his broad chest. "My publisher prefers this version."
"Your publisher has no taste.”
"And you write romance drivel!" he shot back. "Kissing and crying and running dramatically into the rain?—”
The fire inside might have just exploded into a full-blazing inferno.
