Page 4 of Just My Luck

“I’m just killing time.”

“F’r how long?” he gestured at the pub. “That be whe’ all the fun be.”

“What makes you think I’m supposed to be in there?”

“Cause there’s a pretty redhead fussin’ about how a lass stood her up.”

Mallory, I thought to myself.

“Ye’ can’t be out here all night. It’ll chill ye’ to the bone,” he nodded slightly then opened the door to the pub. Irish music and people laughing erupted from within. The man looked at me as though asking me if I’d be coming inside.

“In a bit,” I smiled.

“See ye’ in a bit.” He disappeared inside, closing the door behind him.

“You can do this, Elaina. It’s just one night of hanging out with your friends. You do this every Friday. Today is no different,” I coaxed myself quietly. A few people walking by side-eyed me but kept walking down the sidewalk.

And now I’m talking to myself,I groaned internally.

“Out of the way!” someone yelled as a bicycle bell dinged like crazy. I looked over my shoulder in time to see a guy on a bike zooming down the sidewalk. A mere few feet from me.

A scream left me as I stood frozen in fear.

“Look out!” a husky male voice called out.

An arm wrapped around my waist and I was pulled out of the way of the biker. Warmth covered me like a blanket. And a heavenly, masculine cologne filled my nose. The smell made my knees weak.

The biker blazed past us. He muttered something as he rode by.

“Asshole!” the guy, whose arms I was in, shouted at the biker. “You okay?”

He turned me in his arms and I stared up at my hero. My mouth fought to gape open as I looked up into the face of a god. The man was gorgeous.

He had fair skin, short red hair, a slender nose, defined jawline, and lips that screamedkiss me.Sprinkles of freckles covered his face and disappeared behind his short, well-trimmed beard. Usually, I hated facial hair, but he made it look good. Real good.

“You okay?” he asked again as I stared up into his emerald green eyes.

“Ye…Yes. I’m fine. Thanks,” I managed to whisper. My rapid beating heart was lodged in my throat and made speaking difficult.

“Good,” he smiled and looked in the direction the bicyclist had headed. “That guy’s a real jerk.”

“Understatement,” I frowned.

“You heading inside?” he gestured at the pub then dropped his arm down to his side.

“Debating on it.”

“It’s a great place. I can vouch for it especially since it is my party,” he grinned.

“Your party?”

“Yeah,” he smiled brightly. “Every year.”

“Ah. I see.”

Mallory was going to get a stern talking to. She’d been keeping a key factor from me each time she invited me to the infamous St. Patrick’s Day party. If she had mentioned the smoking hot host, I may have been more inclined to attend the party.

Doubtful, I mused to myself. Hot guy or not, I still had some serious issues about holidays; however, she could have gotten me his number for a non-holiday hook-up.

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