Page 23 of Taming Irish

Chapter 6

Shane

As I rollout of bed and grab my phone, turning it on, it pings with one unheard voicemail. It’s weird being back in the home I grew up in, sleeping in the same bed. The house hasn’t changed since I moved out years ago. The same floral, yellowed wallpaper lines the halls. The rackety old furnace bangs every few minutes as it pumps uneven bursts of heat through thevents.

I’ve offered to tear the old place down, build something new, something modern, but my mom scoffs every time I mention it. This is her home. Where her memories of my father are etched into every old piece of furniture, every half-finished project that she’ll never let metouch.

With a sigh, I pull a freshly washed shirt and pair of jeans out of my old dresser, compliments of my mother who still believes I’m twelve years old and can’t do a load of laundrymyself.

After I get dressed, I listen to the message on my phone, a grin tugging at my lips when I hear Makena’s voice on the other end. Her words are slightly slurred, like she’d had a few drinks before she’d gotten the nerve tocall.

There’s a huskiness to her voice, and when she lets out a little groan, my cock stirs, knowing exactly what she called about, what she wanted from me. And hell if I don’t want to give it toher.

But coming home turned into a shit storm of complications and obligations, and as much as I’d love to drive back to Dublin and show the woman someIrish hospitality, I made a promise to my sister that I’d stay for at least a week to make sure the insanely stubborn woman who birthed us follows the doctor’s orders and rests. Which is bloody wellimpossible.

Even now, I can hear her puttering around in thekitchen.

It’s barely eight in the morning, and I have no doubt she’s been up since before the sun rose. Part of me wonders if I’m not putting more stress on her by being here, since she seems to think it’s her job to wait on me hand andfoot.

“Ye’re supposed to be resting,” I say, joining her in the kitchen, lifting the lid off the giant pot on the stove and inhaling the scent of onions, garlic, and beef roasting in a thick broth. I moan in appreciation when I use the wooden spoon to scoop out a savory piece of meat and pop it in mymouth.

Next to sex and music, there’s nothing better than a homecooked Irish stew. I start for anotherbite.

“Don’t ye dare put that spoon back in the pot.” She slaps my arm and takes the spoon from me. “And I amresting.”

I grunt, taking in the two meat pies that are cooling on the wooden island in the center of the room. “Are ye expectingcompany?”

“Emer is having me over for dinnertonight.”

“Which meansshe’scooking.”

My mom raises an eyebrow at me. “Exactly.”

I chuckle. My sister’s cooking skills are on about the same par as her musical abilities, meaning they’re non-existent.

“Ye know she won’t be happy about ye bringing all this.” I take her hand when she doesn’t look at me. “And Emer told me, the doctor said ye need to be taking iteasy.”

“Emer worries too much.” Wrinkles line her furrowedbrow.

“Only because she lovesye.”

“I know that. I also know that’s the reason ye’re stickingaround.”

“Are ye kicking me out?” I grin down ather.

“Ye must have something better to do other than hovering overme.”

“I’ll leave ye be once we get the test results back and we know everything isfine.”

“Everythingisfine. I told ye, I’d forgotten to eat that day, that’sall.”

I place both palms on her cheeks and kiss her forehead. “Maybe I just want to spend some time withye.”

She lets out a little grunt. “A few days back and I can already tell ye’re going stir crazy. Ye never could sit still. Not even as a boy. Always getting intotrouble.”

“And yet I’m still yer favorite.” I wink at her as I grab an apple from the fruit bowl in the center of the kitchen table, then take abite.

She purses her lips, but I see the smile she’s holdingback.

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