First and Only: Callaghan Brothers, Book 2 (3 page)

I
f only he knew how cruel those words were.

Lexi forced a smile, forced herself to remember that Ian had no idea who she was.  He was just being charming.  And she was no kid anymore, either.  She was a grown, independent woman, fully capable of making her own way in the world.  So why did she suddenly feel like that crushing girl, so helpless and out of control?

Ian carried both of their bags off the bus, sticking close enough to Lexi that she remained painfully aware of him.  As her soft-sided suitcase came from the cargo bay beneath, she reached for it.  Ian immediately took it from her hands.

“So where shall we eat?” he asked.

Lexi tugged at the suitcase, but Ian held on stubbornly.  “We don’t,” she answered. 

Ian frowned, looking confused.  “Didn’t you just say –“

“Look,” Lexi said, waving her hand toward the retreating blonde figure.  “She’s gone.  You’re safe now.”

“But I really would like to have dinner with you.” 

Lexi almost believed him.  Almost.  She shook her head.  Three days tops and she would be out of there.  She couldn’t afford to open old wounds that would take a lot longer than that to heal.  “Sorry.  After two days on that thing, all I can think about is a hot shower and a bed I can actually lie down in.”  She reached again for the suitcase and her pack, but he held tight.

“My lady,” he said, breaking out that sexy grin again.  “You have saved me from the evil witch.  I must repay the favor.  Dine with me.  Please.”

No woman was immune to that grin, including (especially) her.  She couldn’t help it, she grinned back, but inside, her heart ached.  She had long ago accepted the fact that Ian Callaghan was nothing more than a fantasy, an impossible standard to which no other man could ever measure up.  To actually have dinner with him would make him seem too attainable, putting cracks in the carefully constructed walls she’d erected over the years.  And afterward, when he left, it would hurt that much more.  Even his lighthearted flirting was painful, a series of stinging reminders of what a playboy he was, had always been. 

“Thanks, really, but no thanks.” 

This time when she reached for her luggage, he placed his hand over hers.  That little contact sent electric pulses right through her.  Her lips parted, but somehow she managed to hold back the sigh that threatened to escape.  If a simple touch of his hand could do this to her, what would it be like to be held in his arms?  To be kissed by him?  To lay naked beneath him? 

That last thought nearly sent her over the edge, and she fought valiantly to regain some measure of self-control before she embarrassed both of them.  She wasn’t fourteen anymore, for God’s sake.  Her entire body stiffened and she pulled her hand away.

“Alright,” he said slowly, clearly not pleased with her response.  “But at least allow me to get this for you.”  He looked around expectantly.  “Is someone picking you up?”

“No.”  Of course he would think that she was rejecting him because of another man, Lexi thought.  No one had probably ever turned him down before.  The idea that she simply might not want to have dinner with him wouldn’t have crossed his mind.

Coming to the realization that he was not going to relinquish his hold on her bag any time soon, she began to walk away.  A moment later he followed, his long legs easily keeping pace with her, her suitcase held effortlessly in his strong grip. 

“Need a ride, then?”  Damn, he was persistent.  But then she always knew he was.  All of the Callaghan men were like that.  They got what they wanted.  Maybe a little rejection would be good for him.

“No.” 

The hotel she’d booked was only a few blocks from the bus station, and it was a beautiful evening.  Despite the angst and awkwardness that came with being within touching distance of Ian Callaghan, she was enjoying the walk, especially after being cooped up on the bus for so long.  The air was fresh and clean with a hint of honeysuckle and pine.  She had forgotten how good it smelled. The fake fresheners and bottled scents never seemed to capture the natural sweetness of the real stuff.  Lexi had travelled all over the world, but had yet to find some other place that affected her quite so deeply as her hometown.

Ian stayed agonizingly close, but was silent for the first block or so.  She wasn’t sure if he’d accepted her disinterest, or if he was just too thrown by her attitude to make sense of it all.  He wasn’t stupid, she knew that for certain.  Most likely he was simply planning his next move.

They walked past a small Italian restaurant.  The outdoor dining area was about half full, and the mouth-watering smells assaulted her full-force.  Lexi’s stomach growled loudly, enough for Ian to hear.  He smirked.  “So.... you’re not hungry?”

“I didn’t say that,” she countered without breaking stride.  “I said I didn’t want to have dinner with you.” 

The smile fell away from his lips.  “May I ask why?”

Because I am hopelessly, desperately in love with you, and you will break my heart.
  “Look, -“

“Ian,” he provided helpfully.  “Ian Callaghan.”  Yeah, as if she didn’t know that.

“Ian. “  She stopped, looking him up and down, stalling for time while she sought a suitable response, wishing her body would stop angling toward his like a divining rod.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be rude.” 

His eyebrow quirked up as she rubbed her forehead with her index and middle fingers, trying to stem off the headache that was starting.  “I’m really tired, and I smell like a bus, and I just really,
really
want to call it day, alright?”

* * *

S
melled like a bus?
  Hell, he thought she smelled like sunshine on a summer’s day.  If she smelled like this after two days on a Greyhound, he could only imagine what she would smell like fresh out of the shower.  Like she would in about an hour or so, if she was serious about the top items on her to-do list. 

It gave him ideas.

“Hey, no problem,” he shrugged, turning slightly so she wouldn’t see the wicked gleam in his eye. 

She seemed a bit surprised – and, dare he hope, disappointed? - that he had given up so easily, but recovered quickly.   

“Thanks for understanding, Ian.”

“No problem,” he repeated.  “I get it.”

Ian left her bags with her in the lobby of the Carlisle, the closest thing Pine Ridge had to a luxury hotel.  He insisted on waiting near the door until he was sure she had a place to stay.  Judging by the way she pursed those pretty pink lips together, she didn’t really think that was necessary, but she must have read the determination in his eyes because she didn’t waste any effort on trying to dissuade him. 

He offered to carry her bags to her room, but she declined, as he knew she would.  It was so strange.  He’d only just met her – didn’t even know her name (her luggage tag read A. Kattapoulos), yet there was something very warm and familiar about her.  No matter.  If his plan panned out the way he hoped it would, he would soon know her much better.

“Thanks again for helping me out back there,” he said, giving her one of his crooked smiles.  More than one woman had admitted that they found his roguish grin incredibly sexy.  He didn’t see it, but hey, if it worked.

“My pleasure.” 

He waited until she took two steps away from him before he said, “What, no kiss?”

Her head whipped around to find him grinning from ear to ear, arms lifted in open invitation.  She laughed, which is exactly what he’d intended.

Shaking her head, she turned and stepped onto the elevator.  Ian slung his duffel over his shoulder and walked away, whistling. 

Her laugh was like music, Ian thought as he walked the few remaining blocks to Jake’s Irish Pub, owned and operated by his father and brothers.  His step was light, his mind swimming with possibilities.  She might have said no, but she didn’t really mean it.  Ian was an expert at reading a woman’s body language, and he was confident that she had wanted to say yes.

Not for the first time, he wished he could have seen her eyes.  It was kind of odd that she had kept her shades on, even at dusk.  Maybe she had overly-sensitive eyes, he thought.  He had a cousin-in-law like that. 

In direct contrast to his mood, the atmosphere in the Pub was unusually somber.  All of his brothers were already there, talking in subdued tones.  It brought the reason for his father’s sudden request to return home earlier than planned back to him in a rush; a reason he had temporarily forgotten.

Brian O’Connell, a close friend of the family, had passed away suddenly the week before of a massive heart attack.  The Callaghan boys would serve as pall bearers at the funeral tomorrow.

“Oi, Ian,” said his brother Shane, clasping him on the back.  “Glad you made it.  Bus not too terrible, I hope?”

Ian shook his head.  Not bad at all.  At first he’d been pretty pissed when his flight had been rerouted, forcing him to get a bus for the last six hours home,  but now, he was glad it had.

His older brother Jake poured him a beer as he grabbed a stool.  Thankfully, his family had never been much for small talk or superfluous platitudes, so as soon as the initial greetings were over, Ian was left in relative peace.  No one gushed over his safe arrival back home, nor did he expect them to. 

Ian, along with his six brothers and his father, were part of an elite off-the-books team.  Each of them had done time as SEALS, and some had black ops experience as well.  They all had their special skills, and were called upon when needed – unofficially, of course.  He felt their relief at his safe return in their handshakes and clasps on the back, saw it in their eyes.  That was all he needed.

It felt good to be home.  On paper, Jake was the official owner of the Pub, but it belonged to all of them.  For the most part, he and Jake ran the place, and all but the eldest, Kane, lived above the public area on the second and third floors of the nearly three hundred year old building, which dated back before the Civil War.  Three centuries of Irish fighting men had lived and worked here, and as always, it gave him great comfort to be among them and their memories.

All around him, friends and family spoke respectfully of the funeral arrangements and the reception afterwards that was to be held at the Pub.  Ian tried to listen, but his mind kept wandering back to the young woman he’d left at the Carlisle.  She had captured his interest and then some.  It had been a long time since any woman had warranted more than a second thought in his mind, beyond the obvious.  The fact that he couldn’t seem to think about anything
but
her was a little disconcerting.

A hot shower and a bed, she had said.  He conjured up ideas of her in both.  Found both extremely pleasing.  He glanced at his wristwatch and frowned.  Nearly thirty minutes had passed since he had left her.  Was that all?  It felt like so much longer than that.

Did she head right into the shower the moment she got into her room, he wondered?  Or maybe she took some time to unpack first, unwind a bit.  Was she in the shower now? 

He tipped his head back and let the Guinness glide down his throat as he considered the possibilities.  How long was her hair?  He’d only caught fleeting glimpses of shining gold peeking out from beneath that damn little hood.  And what about her eyes?  What color were they?  It was probably his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw bright flashes through the dark lenses when she looked directly at him.

Her features – at least the ones he’d been able to discern – were decidedly feminine.  Even the loose cotton hoodie couldn’t completely conceal an ample chest; her faded Levis gave stunning testimony to a shapely behind that he just knew would feel amazing beneath his large palms.  She was on the short side; the top of her head had barely reached his chin.  A small flutter in his chest gave him pause as he imagined tucking her into him, sensing that despite their size differences, she would fit perfectly against him.

The small flutter grew into an insistent knocking.  He looked around, certain that someone must surely have heard it, but everyone else seemed otherwise occupied.  He checked his watch again.  Yeah, enough time had passed.  He’d made his appearance, said his hellos.  After being out of country for a couple of weeks, no one would bat an eye if he didn’t stick around tonight. 

Downing the last of his beer, Ian excused himself and ran upstairs to get his own shower.  Hell, he shaved while he was at it, too.  She was worth it.

“Off again so soon?” his brother Jake said quietly, catching Ian as he tried to slip out the back without being noticed.  “Anyone I know?”

Ian grinned.  Jake knew him better than anyone.  “Not even someone I know,” he said cryptically.  “Met her on the bus.  Asked her to dinner, but she shot me down.”

“A woman of class, then.”

Ian snorted, but Jake was right.  Despite the casual clothing and her choice of transportation, there was something about the woman that suggested she was well above the wild ones he usually went after. 

“So you’re going back... why?” 

Ian shrugged.  “I owe her.”  At Jake’s questioning look he added, “She saved me from a very unpleasant woman on the trip.”

“Mm-hm,” Jake mumbled.  “So to repay her for her kindness you’re going to ignore her wishes and go after her anyway?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Ian agreed happily as he strode out the door.  “No good deed goes unpunished.”

I
n snug, worn blue jeans – clean ones – and a white shirt rolled up to the elbows, Ian stood outside room 333 of the Carlisle Hotel, registered to one Alexis Kattapoulos.  He could hear the muted sounds of the local hard rock radio station through the door. 

It was not what he would have expected.  He would have guessed she was the easy listening type, but then again, he had thought the same thing about Jake’s wife Taryn at first, and she turned out to be the biggest female head-banger he’d ever met. 

He smiled.  This was just getting better and better.

“Hang on,” she called in response to his knock.  He shifted his weight, feeling more like a seventeen year-old boy than a twenty-seven year old ex-SEAL.  What was it about this woman?