40
“Excuse me,” I say, holding the tray aloft as I edge my way through the crowded bar. The walls rattle with heavy beats as bands play on all available stages at Whelans.
“I got it,” a man with a familiar husky voice says from behind me, and I almost drop the tray in fright. Dillon chuckles, taking the tray as his mouth presses to my ear. “Do I make you nervous, Hollywood?”
“Don’t be stupid,” I lie. “As if.” I brush damp strands of hair behind my ears. It’s hot as hell in here, and I’m glad I took Ash’s advice and dressed casually and comfortably in jeans and a green T-shirt. A sprig of shamrock is pinned to my chest, and both Audrey and I have miniature Irish flags painted on our cheeks and green streaks in our hair.
“You’re really getting into the spirit of things, huh?” Dillon effortlessly holds the tray overhead with one hand as he rakes his gaze over me from head to toe. Placing his free hand on my lower back, he steers us toward our usual table in the corner. My skin burns from his touch, even through my shirt, confirming what I already know—I’m fucked when it comes to this guy.
I’ve been mulling over my conversation with Audrey in the hours since we talked, and maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to stop freaking out about this attraction and just let nature take its course. It’s not as if a guy like Dillon would ever be serious about someone like me. He’s a serial fucker, rotating bed partners as often as he changes clothes. He probably just wants to nail the Yank and brag about it to his friends. Maybe I need to take a leaf out of his book and just treat it like a casual fuck with no strings attached. It’s only sex. And if it’ll help me move forward with my life, then maybe it’s worth the risk.
“Earth to Hollywood,” he says, glaring at a guy blocking our path. “Where’d you go?”
Hollywood is almost as annoying as princess, but at least it doesn’t remind me of how much I’m missing Dad every time I hear it. “This will probably be the only time I’m in Ireland on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m making the most of it,” I shout to be heard over the noise of the crowd. “You weren’t at the parade,” I add.
“Aw, did you miss me?” he purrs, straight in my ear, making me jump. Tremors zip up and down my spine, and a throbbing ache vibrates between my legs.
“Like a hole in the head,” I joke, as a short, stocky guy wearing an Irish rugby jersey slams into my shoulder while walking past. Beer sloshes onto the floor from the three pint glasses he’s carrying. My sneakers skid on the sticky liquid, and I almost take a tumble.
“Watch it, dickhead!” Dillon snaps, glowering at the guy. He slides his arm around my waist, holding me steady. “I fucking hate how every asshole and his mother crawls out of the woodwork on Paddy’s Day.”
“It’s an experience, for sure,” I agree, as we reach our table.
Dillon carefully sets the tray down in front of Ash. Audrey quirks a brow at me, blatantly checking Dillon out while I distribute drinks. “I didn’t get you a drink,” I explain, looking up at him. “I didn’t realize you guys had arrived.”
“It’s fine. We’ve got to head straight to our sound check.”
“Introduce me, Viv,” Audrey says, staring shamelessly at Dillon.
“Dillon, this is my bestie from L.A., Audrey. Audrey, Dillon.”
Dillon chuckles, murmuring bestie under his breath like it’s a naughty word. “What’s up?” He jerks his chin in acknowledgment.
“It’s good to meet the guy I’ve heard so much about,” she says, and a familiar smirk tilts the corners of his mouth. My jaw slackens, and I make a slicing motion with my hand, cautioning her to quit that shit. Dillon already sports an ego the size of the planet, and he needs no more encouragement.
Pale arms encircle his waist from behind, and I’d recognize those nasty red talons anywhere. It’s the skank from that night at my place. Ignoring the rapid beating of my heart and the acid crawling up my throat, I scoot past Ash and Cat, plopping down in the seat beside Audrey.
Dillon extracts the girl’s arms from his waist, pushing her off without looking at her. Leaning down, he places his large palms on the table, peering into my eyes. “You’re coming up to watch our set, right?”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Audrey says. “I can’t wait to hear if you’re as good as Viv says.” Dillon’s eyes stretch wide, and, if I’m not mistaken, a slight flush stains his cheeks.
Interesting. Maybe he’s not quite as arrogant as I thought.
Behind Dillon, the skank is seething, looking like she wants to rip my head off my shoulders.
“That sounds like a challenge.” Dillon’s gaze flits between me and Audrey. “And everyone knows I never run from a challenge.” Smirking, again, he straightens up, fiddling with his eyebrow ring. “I’ll catch you later,” he adds, spotting Ronan, Conor, and Jamie draining their beers and standing. He maintains eye contact with me for a few seconds, spearing me with a sexy grin before he walks to the end of the table to join his friends. The skank plasters herself to his side, and he pries her off, crossing his arms as he says something to her. Her head whips around, and she glares at me before storming off into the other room. Good riddance, if you ask me.
“Woah. My ovaries are on fire.” Audrey fans her face. “You held out on me,” she accuses, narrowing her eyes. “He is so fucking hot and sexy as shit. You should totally climb that tree and ride that pierced cock until he’s given you at least four orgasms.”
I spit my drink all over the table. I cannot believe she just said that in public.
Actually, I can. It’s so Audrey.
“Girl, if you don’t want him, I’ll happily take him off your hands,” she adds.
Ash pops her head in between us, looking a little green in the face. “I almost barfed listening to that. Gross, so gross. That’s my brother! A sister should never hear that shit!” She visibly shudders, and I laugh.
“Your brother is hot. Both of them are,” Audrey says. “You didn’t fall off the ugly tree either. Good looks clearly run in the family.”