Page 18 of Tee’d Up For Trouble

Before I could reply, the door creaked open behind us. I turned to see Jax stepping out, his tall frame silhouetted in the dim light spilling from the doorway.

“All okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. I…just couldn’t sleep and thought I’d take a walk.”

“Come join us, Yank,” Ronan offered.

“Yeah, okay.” His Southern drawl rolled over me like honey.

Ronan stood, flicking his cigarette onto the gravel and grinding it out with his boot. “I hear Paddy will have your car all fixed up in a few days.”

“So, he says.” Jax sat on the bench next to me.

“You must be in a hurry to get out of here,” I remarked casually.

The words felt heavy. Why did I care when he left? He was just a boarder. Seventy-five dollars a night plus food and drink. It was a good deal for me. It was such a good deal that I’d even straightened up his room. I didn’t leave chocolate on his pillow, but I did make his bed and clean his bathroom—even left fresh flowers on the old, weathered desk.

He was a neat man, I’d discovered. He’d hung up his towel and folded his clothes, tucking them away in the small wooden wardrobe.

His room smelled like him. His cologne, which I’d discovered when I was cleaning his bathroom (not snooping), was Tom Ford. Something black beauty. It was musky and delicious. I may have sprayed a little on my wrist…you know, to test it, as you did when you were at one of those fancy cosmetic stores in Cork. Was it professional? No. Did I care? Also, no.

Jax shook his head. “I thought I’d be. But I’ve been here a day and…no, Dee, I’m not in a hurry to leave.”

There was no reason for me to like hearing that. I wrapped my coat around me tighter and decided that enough was enough, and before I jumped the Yank, I’d see myself into my room and order that bloody vibrator.

And that was when Ronan chose to bid us goodnight.

“You did good, Yank.” Ronan clapped Jax on the shoulder. He leaned and kissed my cheek. “Night, Dee.”

“Night, Ronan.” I watched as he disappeared into the dark. He parked his car at the back of the pub and would be home in fifteen minutes. My family farmhouse. The one I had trouble stepping into these days.

Jax stretched his long legs out in front of him. For a moment, we sat in silence, the sound of crickets and the faint rustle of the wind filling the space between us.

“You and Ronan,” he said finally, glancing at me. “Are you…?”

I nearly choked on my whiskey. “Me and Ronan?” I laughed, the sound echoing into the night. “Not a chance in hell. He’s like my brother. Besides, I’ve seen how he eats a sandwich. I could never after that.”

Jax grinned, his dimples flashing. “Good to know.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just curious. You’re…hard to figure out, Dee Gallagher.”

“No, I’m not,” I protested. “You get exactly what you see.”

“Ah, but I don’t see everything, do I? No one does. You’ve got some layers.”

“Doesn’t everybody?” I took a sip of whiskey.

He folded his arms across his chest. “You were engaged to O’Farrell?”

“Aye.”

“For how long?”

“A year. We were together for three. We were to be married, but Maggie fell sick, and I didn’t have time to plan a wedding.” I remembered the shock of finding out how sick she was and discovering how hard the chemo was. “Maggie…ah…she was my sister.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said sincerely. “Paddy told me about her. Apparently, she was an even better cook than Ronan, which means she must’ve been spectacular ‘cause Ronan is pretty damn good.”

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