29
Isurvey the pile of clothes covering my bed and the floor while I stand in my black lace underwear in front of the mirror in my bedroom, no closer to making a decision. I have no clue what to wear. Glancing at the time on my cell, I curse out loud in the empty room. I tap out a quick message to Ash, asking her for help, and then I pad into my en suite bathroom to apply a full face of makeup. I don’t normally wear much makeup, but it’s my first proper night out in Ireland, with a bunch of new people, and I feel like I need armor.
I’m straightening my long dark hair when my cell pings with a new message.
Keep it casual but sexy. Jeans with a crop top and heels.
Inspecting the items surrounding me, I choose some ripped black jeans, black and gold Armani high heels, and a black lace crop top I’ve never been brave enough to wear. The sheer lace design covers my arms and my upper body, but my bra will be clearly visible underneath. The V-shaped hem exposes a decent amount of my midriff, but as I examine my reflection in the mirror, I know I look hot.
Gulping back nerves, I down a vodka shot for courage before I grab my coat and purse, lock the door, and leave to meet up with Ash.
She’s waiting for me outside Trinity, and we walk up Grafton Street, meeting the others outside the mall before we walk to the venue. “This place will be mad,” Ash warns me as we approach the bar. “Whelans is known for live music, and it’s always packed at the weekends. Toxic Gods have played here before but usually upstairs. Tonight, they’re playing in the main room, so it’s going to be wild.”
We follow the others into the deceptively large bar, and I’m accosted by a blast of heat and noisy chatter from the crowded room. Ash may be pint-sized and slim, but that doesn’t stop her from charging her way through the busy room. I spot Jamie’s distinctive faux hawk as we approach a long L-shaped seating area in the corner. A scratched mahogany table is in the middle of the space with red leather seating against the wall and a bunch of freestanding high-backed wooden chairs in front. A group of guys and girls are already seated, but there’s just enough room for us.
“What’s up, assholes,” Ash says, leaning down to give a one-armed hug to a guy with messy dark hair and startling blue eyes.
“Sis. You made it.” Muscular arms wrap around Ash as he squeezes her tight.
“Where’s Dillon?” she asks, straightening up and looking around.
“In the jacks,” a guy with long brown hair and matching brown eyes says.
“Come sit here,” Jamie says, patting his thigh and arching a brow at Ash.
“Over my dead body,” she replies.
The guy she was hugging—who I’m assuming is her youngest brother Ronan—lifts his eyes to meet mine. His mouth turns up at the corners as he gives me a quick once-over. Unlike when his buddy Jamie did it the other day, his inspection is respectful, and it doesn’t make me squirm. He’s cute in an innocent boy-next-door kind of way. Unlike the guys surrounding him, I see no visible ink or piercings.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” He jerks his head in my direction.
“If it isn’t my favorite sister,” someone says in a deep husky voice from directly behind me, cutting across the conversation. “About time you showed up.”
All the tiny hairs on the back of my neck lift, and warmth races over my skin. Heat rolls off the newcomer in waves, and I feel it even through my heavy coat. My heart hammers against my rib cage, and all my senses are on high alert.
Ash spins around, thumping him in the upper arm while I stand rooted to the spot, watching their interaction out of the corner of my eye. “I’m your only sister, clown, and that joke’s getting real old.”
“Is this the Yank?” he asks, and Ash thumps him again.
“Be nice, Dillon,” she warns, as I slowly turn around.
Shock splays across his stunning face as our eyes meet for the first time. Panic slams into me, and I’m temporarily horrified at the thought he might have recognized me. Prickles of awareness dance over my skin as every cell in my body sizzles with an instant connection. I’m only a few inches short of six foot in these heels, but Dillon still towers over me. He must be six two or three, at least. Broad shoulders stretch across a tight black T-shirt that clings to his impressive chest and abs. Ink covers both arms, and he has an eyebrow and nose piercing. A silver chain circles his neck, and he’s wearing a cluster of leather bands on one wrist and a few silver rings on one hand.
But that’s not the most striking thing about him.
Bleach-blond messy hair tumbles in waves over his forehead, and the sides are shorn tight. With high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a stylish layer of stubble coating his chin and cheeks, he is fucking gorgeous. Piercing bright green eyes stare intensely at me from behind long thick black lashes. Electricity crackles in the small space between us, and I know I’m staring, but I can’t drag my eyes away. Heat blooms in my cheeks as I blush.
I have never had such a visceral reaction to a guy before, and it’s unnerving.
The initial shock I registered has faded from his face, replaced with a look that is borderline angry. A muscle pops in his jaw, and I instinctively step back, the backs of my thighs hitting the side of the table, rattling it. Glasses clink, and drinks slosh over the table.
“Watch it,” Jamie snaps, eyeballing me. “Or the next round’s on you.”
“Stop complaining,” Ash says to Jamie while tugging on Dillon’s arm. “A little drink got spilled. Big deal.”
Dillon is glaring at me, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and I’m feeling hugely uncomfortable.
Ronan gets up, shoving Dillon aside. “You’re being rude.” He drills him a pointed look.