Page 15 of Irish

“So you say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t see him, but Irish made sure he is standing where he can watch you. He’s not taken his eyes off you. If I had to guess, there’s something more there than friendship.”

“No way. Irish is my older brother’s best friend. Nothing more.”

“Okay.” Kylie raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll pretend I don’t see your blush, or the way you both look at each other. All I am saying is, I’d bet you a hundred dollars you will still be here next month.”

“If I am, it’s not because of Irish. It’s because I needed a fresh start and liked the job.”

“Uh huh,” Kylie said. “I’ll keep my, ‘I told you so’ to myself. For now.”

CHAPTER 6

IRISH

Work was not getting done. He was too distracted. She’d been here for three days and while they spent damn near every second of their awake time together, she’d been off since they’d left The Watchmen’s clubhouse on Sunday.

Makenzie sat ten feet away from him on the laptop he’d secured from Jay, connected to his business accounts. He was supposed to be organizing the applicants’ files into three piles—yes, maybe, and absolutely not. But instead of reading files, Irish was staring at the woman sitting across from him. When he’d finished his conversation with Lucky and rejoined Makenzie and Kylie, the atmosphere had changed. He felt a sadness within Makenzie, an apprehension he hadn’t noticed earlier in the day. Unable to get it out of either woman, he’d chosen to put a pin in the conversation, for now.

His mind raced with ways to see if his instincts were correct. Was she a Little? She’d given off a few signs in the last couple of days but nothing definite. He’d tried asking her, but she had changed the subject, and he didn’t want to press too hard. He needed a plan to get it out of her.

As if she could read his mind, Makenzie sighed in her seat. He looked up, and she glanced over at him before waving her hand in the air. “Sorry, I’m just... I can’t concentrate.”

A plan came to mind. “How about we call it a day? I’ve got a ton of shit to do at home, anyway.” He stood and went to her side, taking the computer from her hands and placing it on the side table. “Let’s head home and I’ll cook dinner for us.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she glanced down at her watch. “It’s only three o’clock.”

“One of the perks of being your own boss is getting to set your own schedule. I don’t like how tight your eyebrows pressed together when you were staring at the screen.”

“That’s my number crunching face,” she countered.

“It would be adorable, if you hadn’t looked upset,” he said.

“Nah. I’m not upset. I’m just trying to make sense of your system, or lack thereof,” she said with a giggle.

“Well, you can make sense of it tomorrow. Let’s go home.”

“It’s too early for dinner,” Makenzie countered.

With a resolved sigh, Irish swept up the files from his desk and loaded them into his briefcase. “How about we go home, and you can help me separate these files and then I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Makenzie said, closing the lid on the laptop.

Once in the truck, Irish had a plan formulating in his head. He casually asked, “So, what’s your favorite food? If you were stressed out, or on your period, what food would you reach for? Your comfort food?”

Makenzie didn't hesitate, it was a no brainer for her. “That’s easy. Strawberry milkshakes and grilled cheese sandwiches with extra cheese with the crust cut off,” she said wistfully, then blushed when he glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What? I'm a sucker for a good grilled cheese,” she defended, laughing.

“Turns out, I have everything we need at the house to make both strawberry milkshakes and grilled cheese.”

“What? Really?”

“Yep. Really.”

Once at the house, they settled together on the couch. Irish was very aware of how close they were physically. He took out a stack of the manilla folders. “Okay so what I’m doing is color coding these files with a sticky note. Green means yes, yellow means maybe?—”

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