Chapter Nineteen

Norah

I'm just pulling dinner out of the oven when I hear a knock at the door. I'm anxious to see Eamon, but I've never cooked a meal for a guy before, so I'm stupidly nervous. When I throw open the door, my heart sinks. It's not Eamon but a thoroughly pissed-off Myra.

"Myra, what are you…" I start, but she shoves her way through the door and turns on her heel to glare at me.

"What the hell is your man's problem?" she seethes.

I am officially confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about. What happened?"

She scoffs and says, "Apparently, Eamon threw Mac up against a wall before the game, defending your honor or some shit like that."

"He what?" I gasp, completely shocked.

"Mac said that Eamon freaked out on him and told him if he heard Mac say anything about you again, he'd knock him out." Her hands are on her hips, and she's looking at me for support.

"Wait, what did Mac say exactly?" I'm not about to just let her barge in here demanding sympathies without some sort of explanation.

"What does that matter? He pretty much assaulted his teammate," she fumes.

I bristle at her tone . What does it matter ?

"Myra," I say thickly, feeling the burn of tears in my eyes. "What did Mac say?"

Heaving a sigh, she says, "Ugh. He was totally joking around, but he asked Eamon how you were in the sack and implied you were probably pretty wild because you're so prudish with everyone."

I make a disgusted noise as I will myself not to cry.

"Right? Not even a big deal. Eamon has some serious anger…"

"Get out," I interrupt her in a hoarse whisper.

"What?" Myra gapes at me.

"After everything I've been through and the huge step I'm taking just dating Eamon, you think it's okay for Mac to talk about me like that?" I'm so angry I'm shaking.

"Oh my god, Norah," she rolls her eyes. "How long are you going to play that card? It's been how many years now? Time to move on. Maybe if you let him fuck you, you'll get over it."

Before I can respond, a deep voice growls behind me, "Myra, I think it's time for you to leave now."

"Ugh. I'm out of here," she spits as she shoulders her way past Eamon .

Eamon

I don't bother looking at Myra or I might say something I'll regret later. It takes every bit of self-control I have to not go off on her for the vile things she said to Norah. Norah, who is standing there with tears rolling down her cheeks.

I walk towards her slowly; taking her elbow, I pull her into my embrace. She starts crying in earnest now. I don't blame her. The conversation I walked in on was brutal. How anyone could say such things, especially to someone they call a friend, is mind-boggling. I'm sure Mac spun the story to make himself look like the victim. Apparently, I need to have another conversation with him. I'm not a violent person by nature, but I want nothing more than to seek vengeance on anyone who has ever caused Norah an ounce of pain.

"Shhh, love. It's okay," I murmur as I run my hand over her hair. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"Is it true?" she asks, looking up at me with watery blue eyes. Christ, even crying she's gorgeous.

"Is what true?"

"Did you really shove Mac against a wall defending me?" She sniffles.

"Aye," I don't hesitate to say. "I did. He had no business talking about you the way he did. He shouldn't be talking about any woman that way."

Norah wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my chest. "Thank you," she whispers. "And thank you for coming in when you did."

I hold her tightly and kiss the top of her head. "I only wish I would have gotten here sooner, but I stopped to get you something on the way."

She raises her head again, a small smile forming on her tear-streaked face. "You got me something?"

She's adorable. I grin at her and say, "It's in the car. I'll be right back."

I return carrying a white paper sack. I set it on the kitchen island, motioning her over. "Open it," I order.

She unfolds the top of the bag and peeks inside before squealing, " Cranberry scones!"

"I know you're a baker, but I couldn't let you do all the work," I tease her. "Which, by the way, it smells incredible in here."

"Thank you. I just pulled it out of the oven before Myra showed up, so we should eat before it gets cold."

"Grand. I'm famished," I tell her.

She made a proper Sunday roast, and I'm all but delighted.

"I'm not all that knowledgeable about soccer, but the game was a lot of fun to watch. You're really in your element on the field, " she compliments me, and I preen a little.

"Aye, I love it. I'm glad you were there. I credit my hat trick to you, you know," I say before taking a bite of food and moaning loudly. I haven't had a roast this good since before leaving Ireland. "Norah, this is amazing. What kind of witchcraft do you use?"

Laughing, she pours us each a glass of wine. "What kind of witch gives up her secret spells? Also, don't laugh, but what exactly is a hat trick? That sounds more witchy than me cooking a roast."

I laugh anyway because she's so fecking cute.

"I said don't laugh!" She glares at me playfully.

"Sorry, love. Truly." I grin at her before continuing. "A hat trick is when a player scores three goals in a single game."

"Oh, okay. The announcer said today was your second hat trick. I take it that's a big deal?" Norah asks curiously.

I nod around a bite of potatoes. I don't want to sound like an arrogant arsehole, but I'm proud of my achievement.

"Well, then congratulations!" she says, tipping her glass in my direction.

We spend the next half hour eating and talking about the game. She's genuinely interested, and I enjoy teaching her. Rhiannan never cared enough to ask. That should have been my first indication that she was messing around on me.

When we finish the meal, I help Norah clean up the dishes and put away the leftovers. Standing beside her at the sink, I'm reminded of washing dishes with her at Paddy's and when she sloshed water on me. Before I can talk myself out of it, I splash her with water, grinning like a fool.

She gasps in shock and stands there looking at me like I've lost my mind. And maybe I have because I didn't consider how the water would make her shirt cling to her body the way it is.

"What was that for?" she screeches.

"Payback." I shrug.

"Payback? Payback for what?" She narrows her eyes at me. My fire sprite is starting to come out to play, and I love it.

"You don't remember dousing me with water when we did dishes at Paddy's? It wasn't that long ago, lass," I tease her.

"Eamon Kennedy, that was an accident , and you know it!" She turns back to the sink suddenly, grabs the sprayer, and releases a cascade of water over me.

"Oy! That's cheating!" I yell, reaching for the hand holding the sprayer. My other arm snakes around her torso instinctively, and I pull her into me.

Norah squeals again, squirming to get out of my grasp, but I'm not having that. I wrestle the sprayer from her and set it back in its spot before grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her onto the counter so we're eye to eye. Panting and dripping water, we stare at each other as the tension grows thick around us. I hear the soft sound of her sucking in a breath before she reaches up to brush a strand of wet hair from my forehead. The soft touch of her fingers tracing along my jaw makes me shudder and she smiles faintly. That smile is a magnet, pulling me closer.

"Norah," I whisper before she brushes her lips against mine.

Norah

Eamon's mouth is barely inches from mine. My heart is thundering in my chest, but I don't break eye contact as I close the distance between us. When my lips touch his, I feel his hands tighten on my hips, and I smile against his mouth. Teasing the seam of his lips with my tongue, he grunts in surprise before eagerly joining in. Our kiss is slow and building. My eyes drift closed as I thread my fingers into his hair and draw him closer, my legs parting to wrap around his hips. A warm hand runs up my spine and back down again, causing goosebumps in their wake. But when his fingers begin to wander under the hem of my shirt, I freeze. My brain is betraying what my body clearly wants.

"I'm sorry," Eamon says quickly, taking a step back and shifting uncomfortably.

I am acutely aware of the cause of his discomfort since the countertop I'm sitting on had me perfectly aligned with his… arousal .

I heave a sigh, shaking my head. "No, don't be. I just…haven't had anyone touch me like that since…"

"Christ. I'm an eejit. I shouldn't have done that without asking. Or at all. I meant it when I said you're in charge…" The words pour from him as he rubs his hands over his face.

"Eamon, stop," I say, reaching for his hand to pull him closer. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm not upset; I promise. Things just got carried away, and my brain triggered that response."

He looks at me carefully, trying to discern if I'm telling the truth. Tentatively, he reaches to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear.

"You're safe with me, Norah," he says earnestly. "I won't let that happen again."

"Well, let's not be hasty…" I tease.

He raises a dark brow at me and purses his lips. "You know what I mean. I don't want to do anything to scare you off."

"Not going to happen, Kennedy. I trust you."

And I do. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this man will not willingly hurt me or push me to do something I don't want to do. The problem is, I want to do something. I want him .

We clean up the evidence of our water fight before I grab the bag of scones and curl up on the far end of the couch. Pulling my feet underneath me, I watch Eamon walk in my direction, eyeing him from head to toe.

"You keep looking at me like that, and I may have to kiss you again," he growls playfully, giving me a wicked grin .

Heat floods my body, and my face flushes in embarrassment. I can't take my eyes off of him though. He sits down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and drawing me closer to him. When he brushes my cheek with the thumb of his other hand, I lean into his touch because it just feels right. Everything about Eamon feels right.

"That's not really motivating me to stop," I say breathlessly, heat still lingering in me, but it's a slow burn.

Eamon groans and closes his eyes. "Norah, I'm going to be honest with you. I would love to take you right here on this sofa."

And now I'm on fire.

"But I want more than just the physical with you," he says softly. "I want to get to know you. And I want you to know me. I want you to be one hundred percent positive that this"—he gestures between us—"is what you want."

I take a shuddering breath. "I…I want that too, Eamon."

Bringing his hand back to cup my face gently, he slowly presses his lips to mine in a chaste kiss.

"Good," he says then leans back. "Now, what are we going to do for the rest of the evening?"

I hum as an idea forms. "We could watch Beauty and the Beast. I know we said we'd watch it tomorrow, but maybe we can find something else to do."

I don't care what we do just as long as we're together, and I should probably be ashamed to feel like a teenager in the throes of first love, but I'm not. I didn't date in high school, and after the attack, I didn't even consider dating as a possibility. Eamon just does something to me, and I like it.

"Aye, we could. What did you have in mind for tomorrow?" he asks.

"I don't have anything in mind, really, but we could figure that out then. I feel like being spontaneous."

He looks at me dubiously. "I'm intrigued now. You don't strike me as a spontaneous person. No offense."

I huff a laugh. "I'm usually not, but apparently, all things Irish bring out a different side of me. Like a drinking contest. "

My mind wanders back to my time in Ireland. I was a different person on that trip; exploring everywhere, trying everything, and talking to everyone. Then I discovered O'Nelly's, which led me to Eamon, who has a way of drawing me out of my comfort zone.

Eamon looks at me in mock outrage. "I see how it is. Blame it all on the Irish bloke! Never mind the fact that I tried to talk you out of said drinking contest."

Laughing loudly, I turn to poke him in the chest, but he catches my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips and kissing them. "I'm really glad you didn't listen."

"Me too," I sigh, resting my head on his chest.