Page 97 of Tempting Irish

As soon as my phone is charged, it starts toring.

“Yeah?” I say when Kevin’s name pops up, swerving betweencars.

“I’ve got some more information foryou.”

“Tellme.”

I listened to him ramble off a bunch of legal facts, my chest squeezing for Bree when he goes into some of the details he found out, Not only about Frank, but about her mother, too. No wonder the girl has trustissues.

The traffic, at least, is on my side, and I make it to the airport in less than a half hour, parking in a no-stop zone outside the entry, even though I know Cillian will kill me if his car getstowed.

Airports are nightmares for celebrities, but thankfully Cillian has a baseball cap in his glove compartment. I fit it snug on my head, dipping it low over myeyes.

Inside, I glance up at the monitors with all the departingflights.

There’s one to Detroit that leaves in fifteen minutes. That has to be the one she’son.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t go through the gates without a boarding pass.” The security guard says when I try to gothrough.

Fuck.

I’m never going to make it to her ontime.

“I need a ticket,” I demand at the counter, slapping my credit carddown.

“To where,sir?”

“I don’t care. Just give me anything that’ll get me through thegates.”

She frowns, but starts typing. “I have a flight leavingat-”

“I’ll take it.” Glancing up at the clock, I curse. I’m not going to makeit.

Ticket in hand, I push through the line, not caring about the looks I get as I frantically hop through all the hoops airport security has inplace.

My heart hammers in my chest when I see the terminal her flight is leaving from, searching through the mass of people for some sign ofher.

Bree.

She waits in line, a frown tugging her lips, ready to board. Next to her is Chris, a giant smirk plastered on his goofy face, his eyes dancing all over her face, and herbody.

“Bree,” I shout as she takes another step towards the flight attendant who’s checkingtickets.

She doesn’t hear me, just continues to nod as Chris leans in too close, saying something in herear.

What are the odds that the two of them are on the same fucking flight? Zero to nil. Which makes me wonder if he didn’t somehow planit.

And there goes that insane jealousy raging through me again. Only with her. Never felt anything like itbefore.

“Is that the guy from Wild Irish?” I hear a girlshriek.

“Oh my God, itis.”

“That’s OwenGallagher.”

Fuck.

I push through the crowd, ignoring the girl’ssqueals.

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