Page 13 of Naughty Irish Fate
Chapter Five
Bronwyn
Bitterness is not my flavor of choice.
After my mother thought the bottom of a bottle and the edge of the pier were where she belonged, I was bitter for a long time. After the first boy I kissed under the pier called another girl his girlfriend the next day, yeah, I was bitter.
After the most beautiful, mysterious, sexy man I had ever met left me sated on the pier, I was anything but bitter.
Lies. For that walk back to Flanagan's and the cold shower after, I was a little bitter. Just a little though.
Can’t say I went to bed bitter or woke up that way, though. I woke up refreshed in fact. An earth altering orgasm will do that to a girl. Who knew?
I start my day with breakfast, eggs with runny yolks and toast, as I twirl around my little kitchen. New Kids on The Block sing about summer and love like they absolutely know what they’re talking about. Not that I’d have a clue if they got it wrong.
After Tommy Doyle in seventh grade—that kiss under the pier—and Marcus Wight during high school, I never took a shot at love. Let’s not mention the shining example my mother set of what love can be like.
My Paps and Grams were my best examples, and what a doozy they were. Married sixty-years before Grams passed, then Paps soon after, they were as romantic as romance got.
“Everyone has someone out there. Sometimes fate thinks it’s funny the way she serves that person to us. Late in life. Too early. But we have someone out there for us, make no mistake about it. I got lucky. Got my person right on time. Your mother,”Paps sighed during one of our chats,“Hers came too soon for her, I think. You will find yours one day.”I scoff in my tiny, lonely, empty apartment.
“Fate could bring me my person any time now, Paps. Have a chat with her, huh?” I laugh despite my attempt to be melancholy.
I believe in fate, no doubt. I leave the hard choices up to that coin of mine. If I feel panic bubbling in my chest and can’t make a choice, I pull out that coin. Or if I know what I want, I chance it and see if I got it right.
Until last night that coin has done right by me.
Taking it off the dresser as I dress, it feels hot in my hand.
Turning it over, I flip it. Watch it twist in the air.
Closing my eyes, I catch it in my fist. I am slow to open it.
Heart thudding, breath tight in my lungs, I gingerly open my hand.Heads.Just like I called it.
“Huh. Well. Let’s see how that goes tonight then.” I make a face at myself in the full-length mirror as I dress.
Last night I felt pretty. From the moment I felt those green eyes on me until I walked away from the pier, I felt lovely. Today, I want to feel that way again, just for me. Don’t need a set of pretty eyes to make me feel good.
But, damn, those eyes.
I pair a simple lush green skater skirt with a flirty scalloped edge with a silky cream button up. I twirl in the mirror. I wrap a thick nude belt around the middle and pair some ankle boots to match. I don’t bother with make up or fancy shit with my hair though—that would make it obvious I was trying.
Taking the narrow steps from the apartment I keep above the pub, I push through the pub doors to head outside. I head down the same street I walked last night and go towards the pier. It’s been a long time since I had an attack like last night. I try to face the attacks head on when I have them.
Rooker kissing the shit out of me kind of sidetracked me.
That orgasm sure as hell kept me sidetracked.
Once I reach the pier I walk out onto the wooden planks. Slowly. Cautiously. I don’t look at the beach below or the waves licking the sand. I walk to the very edge. Wrap my hands around the weathered wood and hold on.
Sea spray fills the air and the sound of seagulls cawing is barely clear above the crashing waves. For a long moment, I stand there and breathe deep. Think about the good things the sea brings this town. Sometimes, me too.
“Seas bring in good, wash out good. Bring in bad, wash out bad. It’s give and take, Bronwyn.”Grams said on our first visit to the pier after mother died. And, she was right.
Life was good and bad. Give and take. Fate took. Fate gave too.
An hour later my bar is stocked, fresh garnishes are prepped, and the taps are full and ready to go for the night. Trudi saunters in looking as if all of her itches were indeed scratched. With a waggle of her brows, she winds her apron around herself.
