Moving On Read online

  “I’ll help you,” he says.

  “No. I couldn’t ask you to disrupt your vacation.”

  He’s waving over Vaughn as he speaks. “There is no way in hell I’d feel good about leaving a friend here alone without I.D. and cash. So, I’m helping you.” He looks past me and yells to the bartender. “We need to pay her bill, please.”

  Friends, huh? I don’t know if I’d call us that. Acquaintances, maybe. I’m not going to correct him because he wants to help me. If we find my purse, he’ll move to my friend list.

  Vaughn walks over and Braeden hands him a large bill.

  “I’ve got some money for my dinner.” I unfold my cash and hand it to him.

  “I’ve got you. Okay?” Those damn eyes again. When he points them at me, it’s as if I’m under his spell and will do exactly what he tells me to. No wonder women fall at his feet. This could be dangerous.

  “What about your brothers?”

  “They’ll be just fine. Wait here for one second.” He steps away and speaks into one of his brother’s ears. He looks back at me and they both wave. This must be his younger brother. He’s got a baby face and a dimple when he smiles. His other brother has a mature air to him, his posture is straighter, and his facial features are handsome, but pinched as if he’s in pain. I’ve never met anyone in his family. Come to think of it, I didn’t spend much time with Janessa when she dated him.

  “Sorry about that. I wanted to let them know where I was going.”

  “Thanks,” I say. I don’t know if he heard me, but I am incredibly grateful. For everything I’ve heard about Braeden McLoughlin, so far he’s turning out to be more than I expected.

  As we leave the pub together and step out into the evening air, I breathe in the crisp scent of early autumn, dry leaves, and fresh earth. Having Braeden next to me is comforting. I hate to admit that to myself. I don’t need a man. I don’t need anyone, but I do miss the feeling of having a partner around. Someone to solve problems with.

  “Where was the last place you saw your purse?” he asks while we walk down the street.

  “I think it was in the cab.”

  “Why don’t we go to my hotel and search the cab company phone numbers and see if we can track it down that way?”

  Thinking the worst won’t help. He’s asking me to go to his hotel room because he’s trying to help me. Not because he’s going to try to take advantage of me. At least that’s not the vibe I’m getting from him. “Where’s your hotel?”

  “It’s right up here.” He points toward the exact same place I’m staying.

  “No way. That’s my hotel.” Of all the places in the world.

  He stops dead in his tracks. “Are you kidding me?” This tall, strong man sounds giddy.

  “No. I’m staying here, too.”

  “What are the chances that we’d both be in Dublin at the exact time and in the same place?”

  “Are you stalking me?” I ask in as serious of a tone as I can muster, but I start to giggle.

  He lets out a belly laugh that seems to come from his toes; it’s sweet, warm, and contagious. “Seriously though. When was the last time we’ve actually seen each other around Charlottesville?”

  Thinking back, I can’t recall. Janessa and I haven’t made plans to see each other in months. I’d been working like a dog all summer at the restaurant and doing weddings, graduation parties, and bridal showers. You name it and our restaurant catered it. And Mark and I seemed to stay home most of the time and not go out. And at the end, Mark would go out alone and not invite me. “Did we all get together this summer?”

  We’re at the lobby of the hotel and make our way to the elevators. An elderly woman is walking behind us and she’s carrying a bag that appears to be at least half her weight. Braeden excuses himself from our conversation and rushes to the woman’s side. He grabs her bag for her and the look of relief that washes over her face is immediate, not to mention her posture returns to something more upright.

  Braeden and the woman are standing next to me now in front of the elevators. “What floor are you on?” Braeden asks her.

  “I’m on de fourth floor.”

  We get on and I press number four.

  “Is dis yur first trip ter Oirlan’?” she asks.

  “Yes. It’s beautiful here,” Braeden says.

  “It’s a bonny place for young couples loike yerselves.” Her smile is wide and the wrinkles around her eyes deepen.

  Braeden looks at me and gives me a wink.

  When we get to her floor, Braeden tells me to wait by the elevator while he walks the woman to her room.

  “Enjoy de kip av yer stay,” the woman says as she leads Braeden toward her room.

  It melts my heart as he listens intently to the woman as they walk down the hall. If he wasn’t a good guy would he take the time to help this woman out? I don’t think so.

  When he comes back up to me, he says, “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t apologize for lending a hand to someone in need.”

  He pulls out a key card from his back pocket. “What were we talking about?”

  “The last time we hung out.”

  “Yes. It was Janessa’s big Memorial Day party. Do you remember? We all went to the beach.”

  “How could I forget?” Mark got so wasted, I practically had to carry him to the car and drive him home. But during the party, I don’t recall even having a conversation with Braeden. All I did was babysit my boyfriend.

  “It was a good party, but that’s when Janessa and I started fighting.” He looks off into the distance as he flips the keycard over and over in his hands.

  I study his profile, from his stubble-lined jaw to his softly tanned skin. My heart starts to beat a little faster. What is this? It has to be the jet lag. I can’t be attracted to him. “I didn’t realize you guys weren’t getting along that day. Might be because I was busy with my own mess.” I let out a light little lifeless laugh.

  This seems to pull him out of his daydream. He turns his head and stares at me. “I’m sorry. About you and Mark. I heard you broke up. It was actually a relief when I heard it. He never seemed good enough for you. From an outsider looking in, you always seemed to be levelheaded and grounded when all he did was get drunk and party. And you’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

  What was that noise? I think it was my jaw hitting the floor. Did I just hear him correctly? He said he’s always thought I was beautiful. I’d think he was joking if he weren’t wearing such a serious expression.

  We’re at his room now. It’s on the same floor as mine. Just down the hall. How is this even possible? I look behind me and wait for someone to jump out with hidden cameras and tell me this is a big joke. I don’t tell him that my room is right down the hall. It feels dangerous. “Thanks,” is all I can say. I don’t feel like talking about Mark and Janessa anymore. And I can’t even imagine what a good response is to him telling me he’s always thought I was beautiful.

  “Come on in. Let’s get down to business.” His room is the same as mine. Small, but with one bed instead of two and the same maroon accents.

  He pulls his laptop off the nightstand and brings it to the small table in the corner of the room. Once he sets his computer down, he pulls one of the two available chairs close to the other and has a seat. Patting the one next to him he says, “Sit down.”

  I do as he says.

  He does a search of cab companies in Dublin. “Do any of these names sound familiar?”

  None of them do. I swear I was half asleep during the ride. “Wait. Maybe it’s this one.” I point at the Airport Cab Company.

  “Let’s call them.” He reaches for his phone and punches in the number. “Hello, I’m calling for my girlfriend.” He gives me wink. “She thinks she left her purse in one of your cabs.”

  He sits there and listens while I wait, my leg bouncing up and down. A tiny glimmer of curiosity forms in my mind. What would it be like to be his girlfriend? He’s certainly
got a soft side for a damsel in distress. I’m more curious than ever to know what went down between him and Janessa.

  “Here, honey. Explain to the kind gentleman what your purse looks like.”

  I grab the phone out of his hand and give the dispatcher all the details.

  “Aye. Oi tink we do ‘ay yisser purse.” His accent is thick, but I can tell that he’s happy to give me the good news.

  “They’ve got my bag,” I tell Braeden, excitement bubbling up. I give him his cell back. My luck seems to be changing. From the second I walked through the doors of the pub, things have started looking up.

  “We’ll stop by to pick it up.” He hangs up. “Okay. Let’s go get it.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind taking me?” I already feel like he’s done enough for me. To call us more than acquaintances is a stretch. Especially after I think back on the actual amount of time I’ve spent with him in the past.

  “Nope. Let’s go.” He reaches for my hand and I give it to him. I do my best to push back the warmth and comfort his touch brings me. He’s just trying to be friendly.

  He leads me out of his room and down the hall, back to the elevator, never letting my hand go until we’re outside standing next to his motorcycle. It’s a Harley. My insides do a little dance. All stripped down, steel and chrome beauty, its sleek look doesn’t fool me. I know it’s pure power. The little girl in me is jumping up and down, excited to get on the back and see where the road takes us.

  Braeden opens the back compartment and pulls out a helmet that he hands to me. “Try this on.”

  When I pull it up on my head and secure the bottom strap, Braeden’s eyes light up. “Fits like a glove.” He does up his own helmet and mounts the bike. “Hop on.”

  I swing my leg over the back and adjust myself so I’m comfortable.

  “How do you feel?” he asks.

  “Great.” This doesn’t even begin to cover the amount of glee that’s in my heart, knowing I’m seated on a Harley-Davidson in Ireland. My day was at an ultimate low and now it’s shot right up to fantastic.

  “Hold on.”

  With some trepidation, I place my arms around Braeden’s waist. My breath catches in the back of my throat. This man’s body is cut. My hands rest around his hard abdomen. Mark was thin, but was starting to get a stomach from too many beers and overindulgences. Not Braeden. It’s clear he’s taking care of himself and spending time at the gym.

  When the engine roars to life and we veer off into traffic, I’m transported back in time to my youth. I tilt my head back and let the breeze dance over my face. There’s nothing like this feeling of butterflies erupting in my belly; it’s freedom and fear mixed with adventure and chaos.

  The city is lit up all around us and bustling with crowds of people. The energy is electric. My pulse hammers away in my veins like a girl going on a first date.

  Far too soon, we stop at the cab company. When I go in, all I have to do is describe some of the items in the purse. The man behind the desk hands it to me and it’s like he’s returning my long-lost puppy. I squeeze it into a hug and thank him for returning it. Not everyone in the world is honest.

  On the way back to our hotel, I want to tell Braeden to keep going. I don’t want to get off his motorcycle yet. I don’t want the high to end. I’m overcome by the desire to lay my head on his back. I don’t know if it’s because I’m exhausted or overwhelmed with gratitude, but I don’t give in to temptation and before long we are back at our hotel. When he turns off the bike, I’m struck with how sad I am that the ride is over and my time with him.

  Searching the corners of my brain, I can’t remember what Janessa complained about in her relationship with Braeden. She said he was an asshole to her, but who knows why? Today, he’s proven to be nothing but a gentleman.

  “Thank you so much for helping me,” I say, removing the helmet and handing it back to him.

  “No need to thank me. You would’ve done the same for me, right?”

  Blinking a few times, I’m unsure how to answer. Would I have helped him? My old, more friendly self might have. The new me, with a hardened exterior, is less likely to help or put herself out there in any way. He takes my silence as a positive and continues. “Tomorrow we’re riding to the Guinness Storehouse. It’s going to be fun. You should come with us. I’ve got the extra helmet.”

  A knot forms in my throat and tears form at the edge of my eyes. I told myself I wouldn’t cry on this trip. Especially in front of Braeden. My grandmother and I were going to go to the Guinness Storehouse together. When she booked this trip for us, that was on our agenda. After her stroke six months ago, she insisted that I come on the trip without her and do all the things we were meant to do together. I kept hoping she would get stronger and be able to join me. Unfortunately, she’s still fighting to get her strength back.

  “What’s wrong? You look like you might cry.” His gaze is fixed on me as he studies me for answers.

  Heat creeps up my cheeks. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Just overtired. I should go up to my room and get some rest.” Keep yourself to yourself. I start walking toward the entrance of the hotel and Braeden’s warm hand grasps my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Wait. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I am here.” He points toward the ground. “And I can listen to you. The way your eyes clouded over just now tells me that there is something wrong. You’re hurting. Let me help you.”

  My muscles tense even considering opening up to him, but there’s something in his face, his posture. He’s open. But, why? Why does he care about me at all? He must have a motive. It doesn’t make sense, but his concern pulls the truth out of me. “It’s my grandmother. She was supposed to be here with me. She had a stroke six months ago and can’t travel. We were going to the Guinness Storehouse together. It makes me sad that she can’t be here.” My words fly out of my mouth in a flurry.

  “You have to come with us. She’d want you to.”

  “Can I let you know in the morning?” I don’t know if I want to spend more time with Braeden. Or more importantly, I don’t know if I want to want to spend time with him. He’s been kind and sweet. And let’s be honest: he’s incredibly sexy. I couldn’t be more conflicted. This isn’t a good idea.

  He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Put your number in my contacts. I will text you my information. If you want to come, let me know by ten. Sound good?”

  “Sure.” I type in my cell number and hand him back his phone.

  “Let me walk you in.” He grabs my hand again and we walk into the hotel together. We pass another couple as they leave. They’re holding hands, too. The woman takes one look at Braeden, eyes scanning him from his head to his toes. She looks at me and raises her eyebrows and smiles as if to say, ‘check out the guy you landed.’ I laugh a little to myself.

  I stop short in front of the front desk. “Why don’t you go up? I’m going to ask if they’ve heard from the airline.”

  He shifts his body toward mine, never letting go of my hands. His thumb rubs over my knuckles and a pulse begins between my legs. Suddenly I wonder how his hands would feel on other parts of my body. “I’d really like you to come with us tomorrow. Think about it.”

  “Okay,” I say, my tone thick and throaty. What is this man doing to me?

  3

  My luggage did make it back to the hotel. The front desk staff told me that it got delivered an hour ago. When I get to my room, my bag is sitting there by the door. Relief runs through me. I was beginning to think I was going to be wearing this same outfit every day this week.

  My joy is short-lived as I struggle to figure out how to proceed with my vacation. I could go on tours of Ireland by myself or I can join Braeden and his brothers. On a motorcycle. The answer seems like it should be simple. But it isn’t. He’s a bad guy. Well, according to Janessa. And I just went through a break-up. The last thing I need is to complicate my life with feelings for another jerk. Not to menti
on I’m sure Janessa wouldn’t take too kindly of me hanging out with her ex.

  There’s a disconnect between my emotional state and my actions. I know this, but am helpless to stop myself from wanting to be around Braeden, even though I know there’s a very good chance I could get hurt by him. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Or maybe I’m just making excuses for what my heart seems to be leading me to do even though my brain is telling me otherwise.

  I’d like to call Fiona and catch up. Tell her about Braeden, but I’m not even sure what to say. ‘Hey. Guess who’s in Ireland? It’s Braeden McLoughlin. I know he’s supposed to be an asshole and a player, but I don’t think he is.’ I know what she’ll say. She’ll warn me to stay away from him. She’s probably right, but what would it hurt to go to the Guinness Storehouse tomorrow?

  I check my phone. It’s full of texts from Mark. I don’t bother reading them. It’s always the same. He tells me how sorry he is for fucking up so badly and begs for my forgiveness. Same story, different day. I’m tired of his lies and excuses. I scroll down and see a text from Braeden at the bottom of the screen.

  Here’s my number. Use it. Tomorrow is going to be amazing.

  Even reading his message gets me excited.

  I’m going to sleep on it and see how I feel in the morning. I’m beyond sleep-deprived, and I’d like a clear head to work through my feelings.

  I change into my favorite pajamas and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep with the smell of Braeden’s cologne on my mind and a sense of calm all around me.

  The café in the hotel lobby is open when I walk down at the crack of dawn. I slept well, but my body is still on Virginia time. Coffee is priority number one this morning.

  “Good morning,” a voice I don’t recognize says from behind me.

  A very handsome younger version of Braeden greets me with a million-dollar smile. “Are you my brother’s friend?”

  “Hi. Yes, my name is Scarlette.” I hold my hand out to his.

  He leans in instead and puts his arms around me. “I’m Jackson. And I’m a hugger.”