Page 15 of Until Ireland

“Morning,” she replied. “I was staring at your ink.”

“Do you like it?” I stretched, groaning at the pull of my muscles.

“I do.” She pointed to the pistons near my wrist. I kept all of my tattoos above my cuff line so no one saw them unless I wanted them to. “Pistons?” She chuckled. “I get you’re a gearhead like me, but only frat bros and douches get this one.”

“Cut me a little slack,” I mumbled, rubbing my face across the pillow. “It was my first tattoo. I was young.”

“How many do you have?” Her heated gaze continued to eat me up, and if she didn’t stop, I’d have her pinned under me in moments, screaming my name.

“Enough.” I rolled to the side, allowing me a second to gather my tattered control. “Would you like to have breakfast with me?”

She placed her hand against her stomach and frowned. “No. Eating right now would be a waste. But I’d like some coffee before I go.”

“I can do coffee,” I said. “But first this,” I said, tugging her into my arms and placing a kiss on her lips. She hummed, happily returning the affection before I pulled away. “That’s a proper good morning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Coffee. Please.” She grabbed the bottle of water and took the two pain pills I’d left for her before she went to the bathroom.

I rolled over onto my back, my dick once again straining against my boxers. Jesus. What a night. When I heard the shower come on, I got out of bed and grabbed my clothes. Ireland was so far under my skin I doubted she’d ever climb out. I glanced at the closed door, tempted to join her, yet I knew I couldn’t. She had to go home and change to get to her garage on time while I needed to be downstairs in an hour for deliveries—the ones that should’ve been here yesterday.

Twenty minutes later, Ireland appeared at the entrance of the kitchen wearing her pretty dress from the night before. Her hair was finger combed away from her face, showing how young she was. Shit, I should’ve been ashamed of myself for going after someone ten years younger than me, but I mentally shrugged off the idea and handed her a cup. “I wasn’t sure how you liked it.”

“Black,” she said. “Like my soul.”

I barked out a laugh. “Something tells me that’s a lie.”

She shrugged, giving me a coy look. “I’ll never tell.” She took a sip then moaned. “Oh, this is good.”

“It’s Hawaiian Kona coffee,” I said. “It’s from my private collection.”

“Fancy,” she teased. “Do you use it at the restaurant?”

I shook my head. “Hell no.”

“So, you’re saying I’m special.” She stared at me from over the rim of her cup before taking another swallow. Knowing she was the one, myBoom, relaxed me. I didn’t have to pretend with her or make the situation awkward.

“Something like that.” I leaned against the counter, taking in the view. She was beautiful. Perfect. Her emerald eyes sparkled, and her pale skin glowed.

“So about last night…” Ireland said.

“We had fun. I don’t regret how it ended, do you?” I watched her. Last night had been amazing. I wouldn’t lie to myself and say I hadn’t hoped to go further, but seeing her face in rapture as she orgasmed in my arms had been exquisite.

“I did. I wasn’t expecting it though.” Pink tinged her cheeks, darkening the freckles she’d concealed with makeup across the bridge of her nose.

“Neither was I.” I pushed off the counter and crossed to her. “I’d like to do this again sometime.”

Her breath hitched, and the sound went to my groin. “Me too.” She finished off her coffee then handed me the empty cup. “I have to go though, or else I’ll be late.” She smacked a kiss to my lips, then grabbed her purse off the chair where she’d dropped it the night before.

“I’ll walk you out.” I left our mugs on the counter then hurried to her side.

“So, I’ll call you about the car as soon as I do a test drive.” Ireland paused then kissed me again. “Bye.”

I smirked. “Bye.” As she walked away, I called out to her. “Hey, I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”

Her tinkering laughter echoed through the hall leading to the exit of the building. “Right back at you.”

The delivery truck showed up an hour late with half the goods I was supposed to receive. The vendor and supplier were scrambling. How the fuck could I run a Five Star restaurant without the proper provisions? The simple answer? I couldn’t. The long, complicated answer was that I’d make do with what I had on hand and slim down the menu until another truck—hopefully not late this time—brought what I needed. Once I received confirmation the shipment was on the way, I also cancelled the contract with both the vendor and supplier.

Then I spent another two hours on the phone trying to find replacements with several other companies. Thankfully, it wasn’t as painful as I thought it might be. Word of mouth travelled fast in these parts, and where one company failed, there were always several more willing to take the business. I found a local wholesaler who promised to always have same day or next day shipping on whatever I needed, fresh or frozen. I’d also hooked up with a couple of shippers and farms down south in Alabama who could bring me fresh fish by noon every other day.

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