Page 105 of Tempting Irish

Chapter 33

Bree

Seven hours on a plane,three hours driving a rental car halfway across the country,on the wrong side of the road, and all I can think about is falling into Owen’s arms, and hisbed.

I didn’tcall.

I should havecalled.

Because as I pull up to his house, I realize that he might not even behere.

I knock on the door, holding my breath, but just as I feared, no oneanswers.

“If ye’re looking for Owen, he’s gone.” A pretty redhead approaches from the road, a shaggy Irish wolfhound trailing behind her. Her gaze roams over me, and one eyebrow raises as if inrecognition.

A cool chill sends a shiver down my spine from the way she watchesme.

“Sorry, do I knowyou?”

“Molly,” she says, a smirk pulling at her lips. “I’mfriendswithOwen.”

“Oh.” I know what she’s implying, what she wants me to think. That she’s been withhim.

Don’t fall for her games, Bree, my head warns. I know women like her. My mom was one ofthem.

“Thanks,” I say, starting back to mycar.

“Do ye want to know where he is?” There’s a lilt to her voice, as if she’s tempting me, dangling a piece of information like a steak in front of a dog. Something that I know I probably don’t want tohear.

Don’t sayyes.

I turn, andnod.

“Heard he’s in France with Mila Blakely. The supermodel,” she adds, her lips twitching up as if she’s enjoying this. “At least, that’s what people are tweeting.” Her shoulders lift and fall, and her smile broadens. “Ye can check for yerself online, but I doubt ye’ll be seeing him back here anytime soon. Not after the way that floozy made a fool of him like that all over theinternet.”

I have no doubt that she knows exactly who that floozy is.Me.

Stupid emotions twist in my chest, and I hate that I’ve allowed her to get under myskin.

I don’t even know if she’s telling me the truth. The way she continues to smile as she turns and walks away, back down the road, I doubtit.

But then, all rumors usually hold some sliver oftruth.

Is he really off with someone elsealready?

He wouldn’t. Wouldhe?

Doubt strangles me, twisting in my throat and making it difficult toswallow.

I fidget with my phone, debating whether or not to do a Googlesearch.

Call Emer.I know I should. But embarrassment stops me. Instead, I do what my head screams not to – I turn on my data, type in Owen Gallagher’s name, and hitsearch.

The video of us at the airport is the top trend, but as I scroll down I see the words that make my stomach roll.Wild Irish’s Owen Gallagher in Paris with ex-girlfriend Mila Blakely after botchedproposal.

There are pictures. Fuzzy shots taken from a distance and zoomed in. Unrecognizable faces. But it looks like Owen. Dark hair and scruff, avatar sunglasses hiding his beautiful eyes. Mila’s mouth covering his gorgeouslips.

My heartsinks.

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