Stay the Night (18 page)

At that moment, George yelled something derogatory about Nichols’s girlfriend. The man dropped his hands and turned toward George.

The ball went right into the net.

“Nichols,” their coach yelled.

Shaking his head, the goalie made a rude gesture to George before trotting to see the coach.

Chuckling, George jogged over to Ian. “Always works with him. Good thing our opponents don’t know that.”

“He’s young. He’ll get over it.”

George clapped him on the shoulder. “Good practice. You’re in better shape than anyone hoped.”

He’d never admit it, but he felt the same way.

“It must be the hard work. Or the fine woman.” George gave him a sly look.

Ian shook his head. “The mind games won’t work with me.”

“Does that mean you’re seeing her?”

“It means nothing,” he said, picking up his towel and wiping his face.

“If it means nothing, maybe you can pass me her number.”

Ian lifted his head and speared George with a look that said precisely what he thought of that.

“So mind games won’t work, huh?” Grinning, George ran off the field toward the lockers.

“Bastard.” Ian walked to the sideline where Rowdy waited for him, recording the practice game so they could watch it later and study his form. “How was that?” he asked his friend, reaching for his water.

“You know it was good,” Rowdy said.

He felt good. Really good.

No—great. Yesterday he ran for ten miles without wanting to die, and he wasn’t in much pain today. He juggled the ball from foot to foot, testing his knee’s stability. The brace they’d made worked, though the real test would be on the field during a real game.

Rowdy pointed at the brace. “It seems like the brace is a game changer.”

The brace and Titania. He’d never say it out loud—a man didn’t kiss and tell—but having Titania on his side had affected him in a way that he’d never imagined. She was better than any drug, including whiskey. She believed in him, and that made him believe in himself.

“You feel like your knee is going to hold up with the brace?” Rowdy asked, packing up the camera.

“I do.” For the first time since the accident he felt hopeful of life in general. “It doesn’t feel as stable as before, but with the brace it feels like it’ll hold.”

“It was never going to feel as good as before. The key is to patch it enough to hold while you play. As long as you guard against having your leg kicked, you should be okay.” Rowdy nodded at his leg. “It’s the first time you’ve been able to work the ball back and forth confidently. Even if you stumble a bit, the key is regaining your focus and going on.”

He nodded. Titania would say the same to him.

Rowdy clapped him on the shoulder. “Proud of you, Mac. You put in the hard work and look at you now. Most dudes would have rolled over and pissed on themselves.”

Ian shook his head. “You really have a way with words.”

“I was born a wordsmith,” his friend said modestly.

“I’m surprised you aren’t congratulating yourself a little,” he said as they walked back to the locker room.

“Nah. Love’s more powerful than even me, dude.”

Love
made him picture Titania’s face, which made Ian frown. “I’m not in love.”

Rowdy raised his brows. “Aren’t you?”

“Not at all,” he lied. The truth was he wasn’t sure what he felt, except that when he was around her he couldn’t decide whether to spank or kiss her. Kissing seemed to go over really well with her, so he hadn’t tried the other option. Not that he hadn’t been tempted once or twice.

He pictured the outraged look on her face if he stretched her long limbs over his knees and paddled her. He wondered if she’d like it—just a light swat.

He had to shift his shorts to keep himself under control.

“If you could see the goofy look on your face right now,” Rowdy said in a superior voice, “you wouldn’t be able to deny that you’re in love with Goldie.”

Ian schooled his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, you better figure it out, Mac, because that lady is one in a million, and for some reason she likes you.” Rowdy stopped outside the locker room door and poked him in the chest. “So you better figure out how you feel before she moves on to greener pastures.”

Ian scowled. “What greener pastures?”

“Have you
looked
at her, dude? She’s hot. Any guy would count himself lucky to have her on his arm.” Rowdy gave him a knowing grin as he pushed open the door. “Even me.”

Ian watched his friend walk inside. “What the bloody hell does that mean?” he demanded, hurrying after him.

Rowdy shrugged as he unlocked the padlock on his locker. “She’s a catch. You’ve got to treat women like that special.”

“I treat her special,” he protested.

“Really?” Rowdy looked at him disbelievingly. “Because I haven’t seen you take her out to dinner or anything. A woman like Goldie needs to be shown how extraordinary she is. You don’t do that by banging her in the shower. You’ve got to take her to dinner. Underneath the T-shirts, Goldie’s a classy dame.”

Ian narrowed his gaze. “You better not think about what’s under her T-shirts.”

Rowdy rolled his eyes and then threw a towel at Ian’s face. “Tell her to put on a pretty dress and take her to dinner.”

Titania in a dress
. He held the towel to his chest, overcome by the image of her long legs bared in something short, her hair down.

He liked it. A lot.

They showered and then headed back to the condo. Ian drove, because he didn’t want to risk life now that it was going so well. As they turned into the parking garage, Rowdy said, “That kid’s back.”

“What kid?” Ian asked, distracted by thoughts of Titania. He hoped she’d be upstairs waiting for him.

“The one who caused your accident, with the backwards name.” Rowdy pointed to the front of the building. “That’s another thing you need to take care of.”

“No, it’s not.” He thought about the letter the kid gave to Titania to deliver. It was tucked away in his underwear drawer, far to the back and out of sight. Ian drove to his parking spot and yanked on the brake.

“He’s just a kid, Mac.” Rowdy got out of the car. “He needs absolution from you.”

“He’s not going to get it.” He clicked the car locked and walked to the elevators.

“The kid made a mistake,” Rowdy persisted. “As it is, it’s going to change his life forever, but it’s your choice whether it ruins it.”

Ian glared at his friend. “How do you figure that? He’s the one who almost ended my career. How I am ruining the rest of his life?”

“One kindness from you, a forgiving word, and he could learn from this and go on to do good. You don’t want to have a kid’s ruined future on your conscience, do you?”

He gritted his teeth as the elevator opened to his floor. “The kid bollocksed up my knee, and you’re blaming
me
for his ruined life?”

“Yes.” Rowdy punched in the key for the door and it clicked open. “You’re the one with the power here.”

He shook his head. The kid made a poor choice and now he had to live with it, the same way Ian had to live with it, too. To distract Rowdy, he said, “Is Titania around?”

“Check the roof,” Rowdy said going into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. He grabbed a drink and slammed the door shut. “She said she wanted to go up there earlier. She probably had enough of you and was thinking of ending it all.”

“Funny.”

“Better than being called funny looking.” Rowdy winked at him and sauntered away.

Ian waited until Rowdy disappeared to go up to the roof to check it. He didn’t want to be called out for being eager, even if that was the truth.

She was there, just like Rowdy had said. She dangled over the edge, focused on whatever she saw through her viewfinder. He didn’t worry about her tumbling over; she had her feet braced against the wall solidly. So he crossed his arms and watched her in action.

She was in the zone. He’d never really seen her do her thing. He’d never watched her working.

It was seductive. He found himself getting turned on by her single-minded focus. A little jealous, too, because he wanted it on him.

She turned around without a word and trained her camera on him. He stiffened, uncomfortable having the lens on him, but he didn’t say anything because she looked absorbed.

Looking up from the camera, she arched her brow. “A steel rod wouldn’t be more rigid than you are now. Do I bother you that much?”

“You definitely bother me,” he said, walking up to her.

“I thought you were at practice,” she said, meeting him halfway.

“I was.” He kissed her quirky mouth, because he couldn’t help himself.

She held her camera close, protecting it, while her other arm wound around his neck. She tilted her head and kissed him back, humming a little as she pressed herself against him.

He slid his hands under her shirt, feeling her soft, pliant skin. “How do you feel about rooftop sex?”

She arched her brow at him. “You aren’t afraid there are paparazzi lenses up here trained on you?”

“The risk would be worth it.” He tugged on the end of her ponytail. “Do you have a dress?”

Her brow furrowed. “For the paparazzi?”

“No, for me.” He looked her in the eye. “To wear out to dinner, tomorrow night. Unless you don’t have any dresses.”

Her nose wrinkled. “I never have a reason to wear dresses.”

“I’d like to give you a reason.” He surprised himself by how much he meant it.

“A dress means I’ll have to wear nice shoes and maybe even makeup.” She gave him a pointed look. “You think you can make it worth my while?”

“Yes, I do.”

She smiled suddenly, and it was like the sun coming out. “Okay, then, I’ll tart myself up for you.”

Chapter Eighteen

“I got an offer on the pub,” Geraldine said without looking up from her newspaper.

Niamh stopped polishing the brass around the bar and gaped at the woman. “Was it from Robert Ellis?” she asked, even though she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was.

Geraldine looked up in surprise. “How did you know?”

She shrugged, feeling her Irish temper rise up in her cheeks. “Have you accepted it?”

“Not yet.” Geraldine folded up the paper and stood. “But I’m going to. It’s for the asking price.”

Niamh nodded. “I want to make a counteroffer.”

“Still?” Geraldine tsked. “I thought you’d come to your senses by now.”

“You said you’d let me counter any offer you got.” She crossed her arms, staring the woman down.

Geraldine’s eyes narrowed. “With what money are you making this offer?”

“That’s my business,” she replied, lifting her head.

“Fine. If you want to be foolish, you have till the end of the week.”

The end of the week was when the audition was, too.

She shook her head. She was going to get her pub. She wasn’t really interested in the audition.

Liar, a little voice inside her whispered.

Fine, if she were going to be honest, she was a bit curious—just a bit. It couldn’t possibly be the dream gig that Robert had made it sound to be. Nothing was that good, especially when it came to music. It was cutthroat and hard work without any rewards other than the applause.

The applause
was
awfully nice though.

Geraldine picked up her purse. “I’m leaving for the day now.”

Niamh made a noncommittal sound. It wasn’t Geraldine’s fault Niamh wasn’t born with a trust fund or hadn’t won the lottery. She didn’t need to take her frustration out on the older woman. Tempting to, sure, but it wasn’t her boss she was angry at. It was Robert Ellis.

“Well, okay.” Geraldine shot her a questioning look and then headed out. “See you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. And then the next day. And then a couple more and she’d lose the pub unless she found some money for a down payment.

She pulled out her phone and stared at it. Cormac had money—a lot of it. Maybe if she promised to try out for the Philharmonic, he’d loan some to her. What she needed didn’t make a dent in his day-to-day life. He led the most sought-after construction firm in Britain.

Taking a deep breath, she just dialed.

Her brother answered on the third ring. “Kelly speaking.”

She rolled her eyes. He could see it was her calling, but he always answered his mobile like he didn’t know her. He didn’t
really
know her, but still. “It’s Niamh.”

“I hope you’re calling me to say you’re coming to Dublin for the tryout.”

She closed her eyes, trying to control her temper. “I’d like to discuss that, actually,” she said. She heard the strain in her voice and hoped he was too obtuse to notice. “I wonder if we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

“If this agreement includes you playing music, then I think we can.”

She took another deep breath. “I want to buy the Red Witch—”

“Niamh, not this again.”

“Cormac, just listen a second,” she said quickly, holding her hand up even though he couldn’t see it. “I really want the bar.
Really
want it. But I need to put an offer in by the end of the week. So I’m willing to go to Dublin and try out for the Philharmonic if you help me buy the pub.”

“No.”

She winced. “At least haggle with me a little.”

“I’m not going to haggle over your future,” he said. “And I refuse to be party to this crazy idea of yours. You went to London to go to music school. How long did you hang in the position at the symphony before you left?”

She frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything. Let’s set aside that music is what you’re meant to do. You’re asking me to take a risk on you running this bar. What happens when things get difficult? From what I’ve seen in the past, you cut and run. How can I expect this to be different?”

“I—”

“You always run when it gets difficult, Niamh. You ran when it came to music, and you
love
music.” There was a pregnant pause. “I was always jealous of your talent.”

“What?” She blinked in shock.

“I was. How incredible would it be to do what you do? But you don’t even appreciate it. You don’t value it and, worse, you run from it. Do you know how frustrating that is?” he said, in a tone that was completely unlike his usual bossy older brother voice and more sad.