I give her a wave before getting in my own car and following her out of the lot. Neither one of us had much to drink, so I know she’s okay to drive, but I still worry about her and feel the tension in my neck and shoulders as I drive. I’m getting too attached to her. I know this, but I’m not sure I care anymore. I’m tired of worrying about my past and my visit with Mikhail and the club and the competition her place might bring or the trouble it may cause. I’m sick and tired of worrying. I force myself to relax and take a deep breath, pushing everything aside except my growing excitement at being near Moira again.
When we pull into the Irish club, I park beside her and join her at the entrance. She’s already unlocking the doors and resetting the alarm system. She flicks the lights on, and I turn around looking at all the hard work she’s done to the place. I can’t believe all she’s accomplished since I was last here.
“You did this all on your own?”
She fidgets, but I can see the pride in her eyes when she looks around at all she’s done. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal, though. It was easy stuff, just time consuming.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. This is amazing. It looks like a new club.”
“I still need to order some heavy bags and fix up a few other small things.” She laughs and adds, “And then, you know, figure out how to redeem the horrible reputation my grandad and Liam gave the place and bring customers back in.”
“If anyone can do it, you can,” I tell her, and I mean it. “And I can maybe help you out with the heavy bags. We need to order some new ones for our club and the youth center, and if I place your order with ours, then we’ll get a huge discount. It’ll save you a ton.”
I can tell she wants to say no. I get the feeling she has a very hard time accepting help. “It’s really not a big deal, Moira. You’d be saving us money, too. The more bags, the bigger the discount for us as well.”
“Okay,” she finally says. “Thanks, that’ll help a lot, actually. I have some savings from selling my dad’s house, but it’s not going to last long.”
“What happened to your parents?” I want to kick my own ass right after the question is out of my mouth. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer. I hate that question, and I can’t believe I just asked you that.”
“It’s fine,” she says, walking over to where a small makeshift kitchen is set up. She opens up the mini fridge and takes out a water. I shake my head no when she offers me one. “My dad died last year. My mom died when I was very little.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like a real jackass.
“So, what about you? Is your family here in America or still back in Russia?”
“The closest thing to family I have is Dima. I was raised in an orphanage in Moscow.” I force a laugh and add. “I don’t recommend it.”
Her face softens and she takes a step toward me, but then gets shy and stops. “I’m so sorry. That must have been terrible.”
“It was, but don’t worry. I ran away as soon as I could and Dima and his older brother kind of took me in.”
“Oh, I didn’t know he had a brother.”
“He did. Sergei died when we were teenagers. He was killed by the Bratva because he refused to fight for them. He wanted to protect Dima from them, but they didn’t like being refused, so they murdered him.” I push aside the images and memories before they can come crashing into my head. All the things I try to keep buried and locked away seem like they’re trying harder and harder to surface. “Anyway, we fled to Finland shortly after and then to America as soon as we could.”
I immediately regret all I’ve said as soon as I see the sad look on Moira’s face. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell me it’s okay or try to make light of it. All she does is come up and wrap her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug, and it’s the best response anyone’s ever given me. I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her neck, letting her familiar scent comfort me and ground me to the present.
Running my hands through her long hair, I cup the back of her head and squeeze her tighter. I love that she doesn’t stiffen or squirm. She just relaxes into me and lets me hug her for as long as I want, resting her cheek on my shoulder and letting her fingers caress the back of my neck. I feel the heat of her breath on my skin, and having her body this close to mine is downright dangerous. I can’t have her this close and not react to her. Hell, I can’t be in the same room as her and not react to her.
I kiss the side of her neck, feeling my willpower dissolve with every passing second. “You should step back now, Moira,” I warn her.
Instead of clinging to me harder like I want her to do, she gives me one last squeeze before heeding my warning and putting some space between us. I try not to think about how sexy she looks with her skin flushed and her eyes bright with lust or the way her sweater is clinging to her and accentuating the toned lines of her body.
She takes a breath, and I swear there’s a war going on behind that beautiful face of hers. Right when I think she’s going to run back into my arms, she sighs and tucks a long strand of hair behind her ear before giving me a smile.
“Well, you wanted to see me safely to my door.” She gives an embarrassed laugh and points at what must be the back office.
I walk over and look in, eyeing the airbed with the grey-and-pink plaid comforter and the small reading lamp. Her laptop is on the ground next to a small stack of books, and it hits me that this is where she’s been living. God, she must be so lonely here, and what the hell is she going to do once the club opens? She can’t live here forever.
“Why are you staying here?”
She shrugs her shoulders and doesn’t meet my eyes. “It just makes sense for now. I have everything I need, and it makes it easier for me to work on things here. I’ll find an apartment or something later when this place is ready to open. I figured I’d just save money until then.”
I have the ridiculous idea to invite her to stay at my house. I have a spare room she could easily use. Although, if I’m being honest, I’d much rather she just stay in my bed. Thankfully, I have enough working brain cells left to not suggest this out loud. God, she’d go running for the hills from the psycho she just met who’s inviting her to move in with him. Dima would laugh his ass off if he knew what I’d just been thinking.
“It is convenient,” I finally say, “and you get to save money for a few months instead of wasting it on rent.”
“Exactly.” She gives me a smile and then blushes a deep crimson when I reach down to look at her stack of books. “Oh, wait, those aren’t for—”