Page 16 of Irish

“And red means no?” she said, interrupting him.

“Yes, red means no.”

“How do you decide?”

“Well, I read through the file for potential warning flags. If I don’t think a kid is ready to attend yet, whether it’s physically, emotionally, or educationally, I flag them as yellow. However, if they have a history of violence or predatory behavior and could be a danger to the other campers, it’s red.”

“Do you just give up on those kids?”

“No. The red folders get sent to Hudson’s team. They go through them, and if possible, pair them up with a veteran mentor and invite them to a more intensive camp with a lot more supervision.”

“What about the yellows?” She asked, seemingly concerned.

“Yellows, we call their parents or social workers and discuss what we feel they need to work on before they can attend. More times than not, it’s just a kid that’s gotten off track but is still salvageable with the right guidance. I have a high success rate if I do say so myself.” He winked at her.

Irish watched as Makenzie leaned in and picked up a file. He tried to focus on the folders, but her presence was distracting in the most delightful way. He watched as she bit her bottom lip, reading the piece of paper she had in front of her intently. That simple action had him hard in his jeans.

He shifted in his seat, his cock pressing uncomfortably to his zipper and went back to pretending to read files, but he couldn’t concentrate for shit with her so close. The entire room was filled with sexual tension, thick enough to cut through with a knife. Her warm vanilla scent permeated his nostrils, driving him to distraction. The words on the papers in front of him blurred together as he thought about having her beneath him in his bed, his cock taking her in quick, hard strokes.

“I think this one should be yellow,” she said slowly. “He doesn’t come across as violent or dangerous, but it says here that he’s quick to anger and impulsive. He’s thirteen. I remember how impulsive my brothers were at the same age.”

“You aren’t lying. I was constantly trying to talk Sean out of some stupid idea or another.”

“My mom told me once that Sean tried to fly off our house when he was six and you grabbed his cape and held him back.”

“Foolish kid would have broken his neck,” Irish said with a laugh.

“My parents owe you for saving his life, more than once.” Makenzie giggled. “He wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the pack.”

They went back to reading the files, although, after rereading the same file four times and not being able to remember anything he’d just read, Irish gave up. He placed the folder on the table and turned to Makenzie.

“We’ve spent the last couple of days catching each other up on what we’ve been up to for the last two decades. I feel like I know you pretty well, but it seems that you are still keeping a secret from me.”

The instant blush on Makenzie’s cheeks told Irish he was right. He was on to something.

But before he could dig deeper, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the moment, pulling them back to reality. With areluctant sigh, he reached for his phone, silently cursing the interruption.

As he glanced at the caller ID, a sense of disappointment washed over him. It was a reminder of the responsibilities that awaited him outside of this bubble they had created.

“I'm sorry, it's Lucky. I have to take this,” he said, his tone apologetic.

Makenzie nodded understandingly, though he could see a hint of disappointment flicker in her eyes. As he listened to Lucky on the other end of the line, his mind kept drifting back to the woman beside him, to the warmth of her presence, and to the undeniable chemistry that simmered between them. And for the first time in a long time, Irish allowed himself to entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was a second chance at love out there for him after all.

“I’m going to finish this call in the kitchen while I make you dinner,” Irish said, after telling Lucky to hold on for a second. Makenzie nodded, picking up another manilla folder.

“I’ll keep reading these. It’s fascinating.”

Walking into the kitchen, Irish pulled out everything he needed and placed the ingredients on the counter. He listened to Lucky talk about a possible issue with a rival club as he buttered the bread.

“How’s Makenzie?” Lucky asked, changing the topic.

“She appears to be fine,” Irish answered.

“Appears?”

“On the way to the house from the airport, we had great convo. I didn’t think I would fall for my best friend’s sister but here I am. I knew. I just knew when I saw her… You can laugh all you want.”

“Why would I laugh? Several of our friends have fallen in love at first sight?—”

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