2. Finn

Chapter 2

Finn

When I come from the back office, Ma is talking to a customer at the counter. I've been looking over the books and needed a break. A lot of my rugby buddies are here since there was a practice today. It's tradition for the team to come here after practices and games to unwind and have a few laughs, even more so since I retired.

I frown harder as I think about my forced retirement. The thought always puts me in a bad mood, which means I'm always in a bad mood.

I stand behind the woman as I take in her luscious curves. The meat on her bones is precisely what a man like me needs to hold on to, annoyed at where my head's going. And I'm not talking about above my shoulders.

I haven't seen her face yet or talked to her, but I'm getting a hard-on from the view of her back and her crazy curly black hair, which the rain has made more natural.

The closer I get, the more I can hear her tale of woes, and a protective instinct rides me hard as I grunt. I'm angry this lass is sitting in my pub with no place to stay, no plans, and is all alone. What woman travels to a new country with no plans or companion and just goes about it so casually?

The lass turns around, and my heart stops. Her pale heart-shaped face and big green eyes gaze up at me, and she has to be the bonniest woman I've ever seen. Her black curly hair hangs in a mop around her face and shoulders as she had towel-dried it, and it's beginning to frizz, but it adds to her allure. It gives it a more bedroom fucked look that I clench my hands into fists to stop me from slinking my fingers through it and dragging her into my arms.

Her perfect mouth drops into an ‘o' shape that has my cock twitching at the unconscious invitation. I slide my gaze down to her heavy chest, and her nipples are poking out through her top that's clinging to her skin from getting soaked. I roll my tongue in my mouth, wishing it's working on those pebbled nipples right now.

"Lola, this is my son, Finn. Finn, this is Lola Malone. She's American."

The woman's thick thighs have me dying to open them wide and nestle in between them as she holds my shaft and keeps it nice and warm.

Fuck. I'm lost for this lass, and it pisses me off. Women are not worth the trouble, and this woman has trouble written all over her. Her actions speak loudly. She doesn't think things through. I don't need a woman who won't be responsible. Fuck, I don't need a woman at all.

The lass has my mind in knots, and she lifts her hand for a handshake, but I can't touch her. If I do, I'll drag her upstairs to my bed and explore those curves how they're meant to be. It's not an option, though. The best thing to do is ignore her. Then she'll be gone, and the problem will be solved.

I head behind the bar when a customer, Danny, waves me over, twirling a finger in the air. "Oi, Finn, ‘nother round."

Nodding, I grab the four glasses he hands over and start filling. "That tourist is sexy as all hell. I'm thinking of seeing if she needs a tour guide. Maybe a place to stay." He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I clench my jaw tight and slam the filled pint in front of him and glare at him.

Danny snaps his head toward me, drooling over the American the whole time he's been talking. He frowns, and his eyes widen as he catches my glare. "Nevermind, Finn. I was just thinking out loud. She's yours, no problem." He takes his drink and scurries off, forgetting the other three glasses I haven't filled yet.

She's yours.

Those two words echo in my head, and I can't help but like the sound of it, which pisses me off more.

I clear off my end of the bar and steer clear of the opposite end. If Ma can be chatty with the lass, then she can wipe everything down on that end.

An hour goes by, and the rain is lightening up, so the pub starts clearing out, and I fill another round for the ladies' book club that meets here every Thursday night. The covers of their books are of men's chests and titles like Forbidden Lust and whatnot. Several times over the years, they keep telling me I should be on the covers, and I glare at them. It only shuts them up for so long. It also doesn't help that they eye me like I'm a piece of chocolate they're waiting to devour. The faster I can get them to leave, the better off the night is.

Lola isn't at the end of the bar, but I see Ma stowed her luggage behind the bar and she's cleaning some glasses. Now's the perfect time to talk to her.

"What are ye doing?"

"Wiping glasses. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You know what I mean. What's with ye being so chummy to the American? Oh, this is me son Finn."

She gets an innocent look on her face. "What? I can't be nice and welcome the lass?"

"No, ye can't."

She huffs and laughs. "Ye're only grouchy about it because she's beautiful, and ye're attracted to her. Which is about bloody time."

"Ma. Cool it."

She shrugs and lets a big smile shine on her face as Lola comes back from the bathroom. Lola spent a little time cleaning herself up, but she's still as beautiful as ever.

"Thank you for watching my bags." Her husky voice has my body on edge. Lola's voice is made for seduction and ultimate pleasure. It doesn't belong in everyday life. She must get men riled up all the time by only saying hello and having a good fucking day.

I growl, not realizing I let it slip until Lola turns her head to me and narrows her eyes. She straightens her shoulders and stands a little taller.

"Oh, lass, don't mind the grumpy one here. Ye're welcome. Now, I know ye need a place to stay."

Oh, shit. I know where she's going with this.

"Who the fuck comes to Ireland with no plan? What were ye thinkin'? Does anybody even know where ye are? What if something happens to ye?" Every worry I have for the woman comes out, and I hate myself for vocalizing it. Nobody needs to get clued in because it's not like I'll do anything about it.

"Look, my life and situation are not your concern, mister. So take your alpha attitude and shove it." She glares at me, and I hold back my laugh, even though my mother doesn't. She full-out lets it roll while a couple of people at the counter gasp.

Nobody talks back to me. I'm surly enough and big enough to make them not want to take a chance in either me kicking them out or beating their ass. Even the women don't talk back much, especially after what happened. I get more sympathetic looks than anything, which makes me even more angry.

But this little firecracker just got my blood flooding south with her sass, and I can't deny that I don't like it. I want a woman who won't take any crap from anybody.

"Lass, good for ye." Ma laughs. "Finn needs to be talked back to from time to time."

I grunt and turn to leave.

"Now, we have a room upstairs that we rent out. It's available, so it's yours."

I spin around as I glare at my mother.

What is she doing to me?

That room is directly next to mine, and we last rented it out a few years ago. Mostly because I don't want anybody staying there, but how am I supposed to contain myself if she's there?

"Thank you so much. I can't believe my luck. I'll happily take the room. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Does the lass seriously have to bounce on her feet and make her breasts do luscious things from the movement?

Fuck my life.