Page 5 of Hot Irish Halloween

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug and went back to wiping the table. “But I’d be careful with that one. You always get more than you bargained for with her.”

When Penny looked back at the window, the old woman was still there, grinning. She winked then moved on up the street until she was out of sight.

2

THE QUEST

JACK

As he’d been doing for the last two weeks, Jack put on his sweats, grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys, and took Trixie the cockapoo out for their late morning run. Every time he even looked at the front door, she stared at him with big, sad eyes. It was purely a ruse for sympathy. The minute Jack touched the leash, she jumped up and pawed at his legs with excited little yaps. He sighed.

“Come on.”

They took the run, Trixie’s face fixed with a goofy grin the whole time like it was the Best Thing Ever! She was just as enthusiastic when she ran into another pup or when she lunged after a lady on a bike. Her favorite thing was to suddenly try to break loose from his hold on the leash and run into traffic before he scooped her up. Jack ignored the laughter of the onlooking almost-teens who should have been in class. He heard them giggling, something about his size compared to the dog.

Little cunts. At times like those, he was almost glad he wasn’t a dad and probably wouldn’t be at this point.

“I can’t wait till your mother gets back and gets you off my arse,” he muttered. Trixie was his mother Dierdre’s puppy and his “house guest” while she and his stepfather Bran were on vacation in Spain. Trixie barked a laugh at him.

Before they went in, Jack let her sniff around the bushes near his house to give her a chance for another piss. He loved days like this anyway, somewhat overcast with the crisp autumn air fresh in his lungs. Unfortunately, before they could get back inside the handsome white stone house, a woman accosted them.

“Oh, how adorable are you?” she crooned to Trixie, who did a little dance routine on her hind legs and preened under the attention. “And the same could go for her daddy.” The woman batted her lashes at Jack while he scowled.

“She’s not my dog,” he said, bristling. This happened every fucking time he took Trixie out. He knew some men used their dogs to get this sort of feminine attention, but not him. “And I’ve no interest in being anybody’sdaddy.” His hard tone finally made the woman blink and step back with a faltering smile.

“Arsehole,” he heard her mutter under her breath as she stiffly walked away.

With satisfaction, he grinned at her retreating figure and took Trixie back indoors. That’s when he noticed the living room area rug. One whole corner was torn into strips. Apparently, his house was one giant chew toy as far as she was concerned.

“Look what you did to the rug,” he exclaimed, holding up the shredded remains. Trixie grinned, tail wagging furiously, seeming very pleased with her work. It was his fault; he’d forgotten to put her in her crate like Dierdre had instructed while he’d had his protein shake in the kitchen. “You are going tothe kennel when I’m at that dryshite party. Save the big eyes for someone else.”

His next order of business was a weight workout in his home gym. Dierdre had handled the renovation when he’d bought the place, and a gym was at the top of his list of must-haves. It had a big, beautiful glass wall that faced his leafy, enclosed backyard. It was outfitted with top-of-the-line training equipment. It was also soundproofed to cover the clinking of the chains when he pounded the heavy bag. Also useful for muffling the thumping bass of hip-hop and loud guitar riffs and drum solos of hard rock.

After the workout came his protein-packed breakfast and a shower. As he stood under the hot spray, two topics chased each other in a loop in his head. First, the calls he’d been receiving offering him a new contract for a title fight with the number one ranked contender in the league. The second: the invitation he’d received a month ago, requesting his presence at the FitzGerald’s Samhain Ball at their country estate.

The offer to fight hadn’t been a surprise. Even though it had been five years since he’d vacated the title, he was still approached occasionally about getting back into the octagon. This fight would be against Derek “The Demon” La Roque, pronounced like “La Rock”(but not to be confused with THE Rock), hailing from New York City. Early thirties, brash. Strong. Jack had already said no, but this time, for some reason, the thought wouldn’t leave his head.

The other invitation…now that was the real surprise. He’d never received an invite from uber-wealthy Simon FitzGerald before. He’d RSVP’d yes, despite his reluctance to go. Jack hated balls and high society parties. These affairs were Craic Black Holes, places where fun went to die. But there were deep pockets at balls, money that would fund the charity that paid to keep the lights on at his gym, so he was going. Even if it meant he hadto find a date to evade another “offer” from Clarissa FitzGerald, Simon’s wife.

He wasn’t interested in her. Wouldn’t have been even if she was single.

Jack didn’t date, period.

He’d resigned himself to quick, discreet hook-ups with exes when the urge to fuck got too strong. Even those encounters were only with exes who lived in other countries and could be counted on never to show up at his door. Getting serious with a woman was something he didn’t see happening anytime soon. Probably never.

The “temps” he’d contacted as his potential date had all been busy or announced they’d met someone permanent, which meant he’d have to come up with someone new. While she was doing drills with another student, he’d overheard one of the girls who trained at the gym mention meeting someone on a dating app. Something about holiday hook-ups, a no-strings thing.

Sounded ideal for his purposes since he had no intention of doing more than showing up at the ball to collect potential donations. The problem was the party was an overnight affair. Most women might assume that meant something was going to happen, but he was firm on one point: there would be no sucking, no fucking, no penetration of any kind. No drama.

He put up a profile under his biological father’s last name. If word got out he was on an app, he’d say that JCarr fella had stolen his picture and lied. Didn’t men do that all the time on these things?

Jack had been on four dates so far to vet a potential companion. All total busts. They very obviously wanted more than a platonic night out, so he’d said, “Thank you for your time,” and ended it on the spot.

And speaking of dates and women and no fucking, it was about that time when it was getting harder to go without. He’d neverpretended to be a saint. On the contrary. He loved to fuck. If it was the right woman…

As he ran his hand down the flat of his stomach to his thighs, he soaped up his balls slowly, squeezing them and then grasping his cock in his fist. With his head under the hot spray, he jacked it leisurely at first, making long swooping motions up and down. He paused every now and then to rub his thumb over the slit of his head, then continued the glide. While he worked his cock with steady strokes, he closed his eyes and pictured the third thing that was never far from his mind. The person that he couldn’t get out of his head, even though her permanent rent-free residence there made no fucking sense.

After five years, after all this time, he still thought about her every day.Her. His angel. Out there somewhere in the world, but also here, in his head, in his body. In his blood.

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