Page 2 of Until Ireland

I stared at her as the side door opened and a man stuck his head into the office. “Seriously, Ireland? This trash?” The guy snarled rolling his eyes. “Can’t you put something better on? Maybe something with a little more bite?”

I had to agree with his assessment. The music was a little too bubblegum pop for me.

“You snooze, you lose. You know the rules, Hunter. We all agreed to them.” She shrugged, returning her attention to me. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

The man named Hunter glanced at me and lifted his chin in greeting. “S’up, man?”

Ireland.The name fit her. As I continued to stare at her, consumed by the idea I’d found myBoom,indignation replaced the humor in her eyes. I brushed it off. She was probably still pissed off because of the missing parts. Instead of responding to me, she greeted the guy who stepped fully into the office.

I automatically hated him because of his familiarity with Ireland. He had green eyes, a shade or two lighter than the woman sitting at the desk, and dusty blond hair. His arms were covered in tattoos as well as his chest from what I could see. There was a roughness there that only age brought out, and instantly I knew he owned the Harley outside. Which had me wondering, did she ride the Triumph or drive the pickup?

“How’s it going? Are you the owner?” I asked.

The guy chuckled. “Sure, man. How can I help?” A silent conversation passed between him and Ireland as he stepped up to the counter.

I pointed behind me like such a fucking newb, and I groaned internally at how ridiculous I looked. I couldn’t help it. Ireland had snatched my ability to concentrate. “I have a car. It needs repairs.”

Ireland arched one of her perfect cayenne brows in my direction. The corner of her ruby red lips lifted in a sly smirk filled with intention as she pushed away from the desk.

This woman had me in fucking knots. I hated it yet wanted more too.

“Show me.” She patted Hunter’s arm, and I wanted to rip the appendage from his body so she couldn’t do it again. I realized in those scant minutes I’d been there; I hated the fact Hunter and Ireland had such a strong connection. No, maybe it wasn’t hate. Jealousy, perhaps?

I took a deep breath then berated myself for doing so. The scent of burnt grease and cherry blossoms filled my senses. My mouth watered. It should be a sin for a woman like her to smell so fucking good.

She laughed, but there wasn’t a hint of humor in her tone. “Strike one.” She narrowed those emerald eyes at me before she sauntered out of the office, leaving me to catch up.

“You better go,” Hunter said with a chuckle. “You don’t want to see her when she’s really pissed off.”

When she was really pissed off? The idea of seeing her claws turned me on. Instead of rushing outside like a lap dog, I took my time, lifting my hand as I opened the door. “Appreciate your help, man.”

When I stepped outside, Ireland was nowhere to be found. Anger rose inside of me. Deep and dark, it consumed my thoughts. One, because I didn’t take orders—I gave them—and two, because the woman was infuriating. She had the attention span of a squirrel on crack. When I asked her questions, she gave me non-starters and went back to searching for parts, like I wasn’t standing there. The rush of adrenaline seared my veins as I stormed over to the truck.

“What the fuck?” The snappish clip of my tone had her head popping up from the rear of the vehicle. She’d climbed onto the truck where I couldn’t see her before I’d joined her. “Don’t touch the car.”

“That’s strike two,” she said, dunking back down.

“What happens if I get to strike three?” I prodded, glaring at her round ass and delicate back. What the fuck was she doing in a place like this?

She stood once more, and the fire burning in her eyes only made my cock harder. Her challenging stare dared me to say another word. I didn’t have to. All I wanted to do was screw the indignation out of her against the hood of the Aston Martin while sating the beast inside of me.

“You’re a dick,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “I have a sense when it comes these things, and you’re pegging my dickish meter.”

I shrugged. “I have one, so maybe I am.”

“Pig.”

“Oink, oink.” I grinned. “You want to tell me why you’re on this rollback with my car?”

“You said you needed help.” She crouched back down and worked the chain off the driver side axel. “Or are you one of those rednecks who don’t like women touching their cars?”

Hell, I’d watch her fix this particular car naked. The minute she bent forward under the hood would be the minute I...Fuck! Get a grip. You can’t keep visualizing fucking her against the car. It’s not yours!

“I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You sure act like it.” She climbed down off the truck, then pointed to the sign on the building. “What does that say?”

I stared at her, confused by her question. “Banks Automotive.”

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