Page 50 of Taming Irish

What are the goddamn odds that the condom wouldbreak?

Two to three percent, to beprecise.

I’d nearly lost my mind when I’d read that stat. Jeezus, it might be something they should put as a warning label on the goddamnbox.

Owen laughed when I’d said that, saying it was there in the fine print. But who the hell reads the bloody fineprint?

My cock hadn’t been the same since that night. I’d been too damn terrified that it would happenagain.

A long string of curses come from somewhere deep in my gut. Not just because of the potential kid that could be carrying my DNA, but because of the lack of control I have over the whole fuckingsituation.

“Everything okay?” Makena’s voice cuts into my muttered curses, and I turn to meet her worriedexpression.

“Yeah,” I lie, the first one I’ve told her. “Ye ready togo?”

Shenods.

After I lock the place up, I lead her back up the hill towards The Shamrock, where my car is parked. It takes us twenty minutes, and each long minute is spent insilence.

Usually, I hate quiet, but my head is spinning from the voice message and all the implications that could come withit.

Makena seems just as stuck in her own mind, her dark eyes distant whenever I glance back over myshoulder.

The parking lot, if you can call the triangular piece of gravel off the road that, is jam packed, and two cars block mine from gettingout.

“Looks like we’re having breakfast here,” Isay.

“Can’t you just go in and ask them to move their cars?” Makena asks, pulling her bottom lip between herteeth.

“That wouldn’t be polite,” I say teasingly, even though it was my initial thought as well. But, I’mstarving.

“Neither is blocking someone in,” shemumbles.

I chuckle and place an arm over her shoulder, but this time when I do, it isn’t a casual gesture, it’s more possessive, a sort of claiming that, for the moment, she’s mine. I almost release her when I realize what I’vedone.

Almost.

Because having her this close feels like fucking heaven. And all the worries I had a moment ago disappear. That’s the effect she has onme.

“Come on. Ye haven’t lived till ye try Tommy’s black pudding and sausagecasserole.”

Her nose scrunches up. “I’ll stick withcoffee.”

The restaurant is packed with families just coming from church, most wearing their Sunday best. I see a few brows raise when Makena and I come in looking like we just tumbled out of bed after a night ofshagging.

“Everyone’s looking at us,” Makenamutters.

She’s right. But we don’t have the opportunity to duck out, because Tommy sees us from across the bar and waves for us to take a backbooth.

“No one will bother us.” I place my hand on her lower back and lead her through the tables, wincing when I see a few cellphones comeout.

The booth is shadowed, and I make sure that she’s seated with her back to the curiousonlookers.

“Doesn’t look like the two of ye got much sleep.” Tommy says, placing two coffees in front ofus.

Makena gives a tight smile as a blush reddens hercheeks.

I hand him the basket that he’d let me borrow the day before. “Two coffees and yer breakfastspecial.”

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