Page 130 of Fifth Avenue Fling

“Are you coming back to yoga, honey?”

“Maybe,” I murmur distractedly. I don’t have time for this. I’m here for one reason only.

And there she is.

My stomach churns with the force of seeing her. My heart races, and my palms feel clammy. It’s terrifying.

I watch her grab the arm of a guy who looks vaguely familiar; one of the football players. Jealousy surges through me as he touches her lower back. He says something to her that must be hilarious because she tosses her head back and flashes him her wide smile that should only be directed at me.

She’s glowing.

She’s happy.

I want to pull her away from the guy and everybody else and keep her all to myself.

As if sensing my heavy gaze, she turns.

And her jaw hits the floor.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Clodagh

Glacial-blue eyes burn into mine with unapologetic intensity.

Everything and everyone around me fades away. The noise in the pub recedes into nothing. Time stands still. Aidan is talking to me, but I’m not listening.

I stare at Killian across the pub, my heart in my throat. He’s wearing a baseball hat and a low-key blue T-shirt, but nothing can hide how devastatingly handsome he is.

He nods in acknowledgment.

With a hitched breath, I watch as he navigates through the crowd of drinkers toward me. With every step he takes, our gazes remain connected as if tethered.

What the hell is he doing here? I knew something was off this morning. His annoyance was barely concealed under his cool, detached exterior. I didn’t understand why.

It’s then, as he walks toward me, that I realize I’ll never get over this man. Never get over how handsome he is or how he makes me feel. On my twenty-fifth birthday, I’m living legally in New York. I’ve had an amazing meal and am surrounded by my best friend and people who care about me. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.

Butnothingcomes close to how I feel right now as Killian Quinn approaches me.

I’m doomed.

And then he’s right in front of me, within touching distance. So close I can smell his cologne, and I swear I can feel the heat emanating off his body.

“K-Killian?” I stutter as if he might be a figment of my imagination from drinking The Auld Dog’s bad wine.

“Clodagh.”

Is he here for happy hour?

“Your bloody boss is here?” Aidan grumbles beside me.

“Sorry, Aidan.”Please fuck off.

I step away from Aidan toward Killian.

“What are you doing here?” I sound breathless, like I’ve inhaled a cigar deep into my lungs.Nervously, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I need to get a grip, but Killian standing in front of me in Queens is making me go to fucking pieces. “Did I forget to do something at the house?”

“No.” He looks so uncomfortable that I worry he’s here to deliver bad news from Ireland like Granny Deirdre has passed away. “I’m sorry I never said happy birthday properly before.”

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