Page 8 of Irish

“So, Sean told me you are in a motorcycle gang?” She changed the subject quickly.

“A motorcycle gang? Did he now?” Irish laughed. “I’m a member of a motorcycle club, not a gang.”

“There’s a difference?”

“A large difference. The Spartan Watchmen are a veteran’s motorcycle club. Our mission is to support and defend our fellow special forces operators as they transition from active duty back into civilian life. We raise money for a variety of charities, work together with our brothers who fight child abuse and continue to protect and serve society the way we know how.”

“Sounds noble.”

Irish’s deep laughter filled the space between them in the truck. “Please tell Lucky, Arrow, and Savage that they sound noble. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when you do.”

CHAPTER 3

MAKENZIE

Makenzie watched the landscape transform from the bustling city to the serene countryside. Eventually, the truck slowed down as they entered the city limits of Grand Ridge. It was a quaint town with an idyllic main street, something out of a Hallmark romance movie.

She admired the majestic mountains looming in the distance, their snow-covered peaks glowing with golden hues of the setting sun. Nervousness bubbled within her as she stole a glance at Irish. The tall, lanky teenager had turned into a strong, broad man. She’d caught glimpses of him through the years, but had never truly looked at him, always occupied by something or someone else. Now, sitting beside him, breathing in his scent, all she could see was him.

His large hands on the steering wheel, his thick legs spread confidently apart, the sharp lines of a toned body beneath the shirt that gripped his abs. Sitting beside him, she felt something she couldn’t identify. Something undeniably comforting, a sense of safety and familiarity she hadn't realized she craved until now.

When they pulled up to Irish's house, Makenzie's breath caught in her throat. The four-bedroom brick home stood proudly against the backdrop of the mountains.

“It’s not fancy, but it’s home,” Irish said as he cut the engine.

“Not fancy? It’s beautiful.” She countered.

“It was a new build. I met with the builders and designed it myself. I wanted an open layout. It’s my forever home. My place of retirement, you know?”

Makenzie could tell how proud Irish was of it, as he should be. “Let me show you around. You can stay in the guestroom as long as you’d like.”

Irish walked around to the passenger side of the door and helped Makenzie down. As she stepped out of the truck, Irish’s hands went around her waist. Makenzie startled at the shiver that ran down her spine. He smiled down at her, almost as if was acknowledging the chemistry between them.

Makenzie returned his smile, suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of shyness. Together, they walked up the path to the front door, and Irish unlocked it. Clover bounded ahead of them and a second later, she heard barking in the distance.

“Doggie door. Clover likes to go chase the birds and squirrels that dare to enter her backyard.”

Makenzie laughed. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

“Not with everyone. She has good instincts.”

As they cleared the front hallway and stepped inside, the cozy living room greeted Makenzie. Plush sofas adorned with soft cushions invited her to sink into their embrace, while with the flip of a switch, a crackling fire danced in the fireplace. She couldn't help but notice the military memorabilia adorning the walls – plaques, medals, and certificates from Irish's days as a Navy SEAL. Each item was a testament of his courage and his dedication to serving his country.

Irish led her on a tour of the house, showing her the spacious kitchen where he promised to make dinner for her later that evening, the dining room where he had a table that could grow to seat twelve or with removal of the center leaf, be moreintimate and seat four, and the cozy den where they could curl up together and watch movies on the massively large television adorning the wall.

Leaving the open layout of the living space, Irish led her down the hallway. There were two doors on each side of the hallway. Irish opened the door to one room, revealing a space filled with soft pastels. A couple of posters hung on the wall, and a neatly made bed stood in the middle. “This is Harper’s room. Wyatt’s room is next to it,” he explained, referring to his fifteen-year-old daughter and his sixteen-year-old son.

Makenzie smiled, imagining the laughter that must fill the house when they were here. If his kids were anything like he was when he was a teenager, they’d be rambunctious and full of energy. It was clear from their talk on the way here, his children meant everything to him. She hadn’t pried too much into his strained relationship. Sean had spoken some about Irish’s ex-wife in the past. Makenzie knew it was a tough situation and that there was little love lost between them.

As they continued their tour, Irish led her to another bedroom, this one decorated in a more understated style. “And this will be your room for the weekend,” he said, gesturing toward the inviting queen-sized bed adorned with soft linens and fluffy pillows. “Or for as long as you need. There’s a full bathroom through there with a clawfoot tub.”

“Nora’s influence?” Makenzie asked after his sister-in-law. Nora, who had married Irish’s youngest brother, had been one of her classmates in school. “She loves her clawfoot tubs.”

“Yeah. I was going over the plans for the house at Christmas a few years back and she added a few details.” He smiled warmly at Makenzie. “It’s nice having someone here who knows my family. I have another family here. My brothers in Spartan Watchmen and my veteran brothers over on Valhalla but having you here kind of ties the two worlds together.”

“I thought it was strange when you decided to settle down across the country from your family. Colorado is beautiful, at least, what I’ve seen of it. I can see why people would be drawn to the mountains. I’ve never seen anything so majestic.”

“It wasn’t just the mountains. It’s the sense of purpose I have here. I left the military and at first, it felt like the brotherhood was severed. There’s something about the military lifestyle, you create a second family, a chosen family. One that isn’t blood. It’s not easily replicated. Here I found another purpose, with the kids I work with, and I ride beside the men who understand, truly understand and relate, to what I’ve been through. Anyway,” Irish seemed a bit uncomfortable, and it was clear to Makenzie that he wanted to change the topic. “I arranged for a few things to be brought for you.”

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