Page 160 of Fifth Avenue Fling

We settle onto barstools as the bartender makes our Manhattans. We’re celebrating Orla getting to the next set of exams to enter the police force.

I haven’t been back to Killian’s hotel bar since #soapgate. The first time I clapped eyes on the grumpy billionaire owner. Memories of that day come flooding back. I felt so desperate. Nothing was in my control.

Now I’m in a happier place.

The jazz band plays softly in the corner, creating a quiet backdrop for conversation. I smile thinking about the difference when the band in The Auld Dog plays; you get a sore throat shouting over them.

“What are you smiling about?” Orla asks as the drinks appear in front of us.

“I’m just glad to feel settled finally,” I say. I’m starting a new job at a furniture store in Brooklyn.

The pay isn’t amazing; in fact, I might have to start a bed-share arrangement to save cash, but it’s a start. I’ll be back doing a job I love.

“Here’s to my best friend Orla getting to the next set of exams to enter the police force,”Isay, clinking my glass against hers.

Orla’s eyes shine with delight.

“So after your exam next Wednesday, what’s the next stage?” I ask. “And I still can’t believe you’re going to become a cop. It sounds better in our accent too.”

“Hmm.” Orla peeks over my shoulder, then returns her gaze to me. Her expression shifts to guilt.

My heart rate jumps, and I already know,I just know, who she’s gawking at.

I turn.

He’s here.

Alone.

The energy in the room shifts, the same way it felt that first day I set eyes on him.

Heads turn and conversations stop as every eye in the room follows him. Everyone knows who he is. It’s like the president has just arrived. He’s in a three-piece black suit so sexy he should be auditioning for the next Bond movie.

I clench my glass harder as I face Orla again. “Is this a coincidence, or did you plan this?”

She bites her lip. “Guilty. Anyway, why are you so jittery? The man has been chasing you for weeks now.”

“I don’t know. I can’t help it.” Killian gives me belly flips every time I see him. When he winked at me during Saturday’s yoga class doing the plow pose, I was so jittery I nearly queefed.

I’ve seen him a few times lately, but never just the two of us. He’s been coming to yoga, and he brings Teagan with him. The leprechauns seemed to be in control of him again. When I panicked at yoga and said the delivery company let me down at the last minute, he took a day off work to drive to Jersey to pick up materials for me.Himself.He drove,himself.

“It’s time you took him back. You’ve made him sweat long enough.”

“Why?”

“Because if you take him back, I’ll get the apartment to myself a few nights a week.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say sarcastically.

She smiles. “You’re welcome. Now, put him out of his misery already. He hates yoga. The scowl on his face after he face-planted during downward-facing dog on Saturday said everything.”

I laugh shakily. “You’re right; he does hate it. He grunts too much. No one should grunt during yoga.”

My body tingles, and I can feel him standing behind me.

“Hey,” a low voice murmurs close to my ear.

I swivel on my barstoolandfindmyselfstaringintoanintensepairofblueeyes.The bar and everyone in it fades into nothing. “Hey,” I breathe.

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