Page 34 of Trying Sophie

Chapter Twelve

Declan

“We’ll beopen in another hour,” Cian called out as I stepped into the pub.

“What kind of welcome is that? A lad would think you weren’t happy to see him, you fecker, after you begged him for a visit.”

Cian’s face split into a grin and he stepped out from behind the bar and clasped me in a tight hug. “Hey, good to see you man,” he said, pulling back and standing next to Sophie, who’d also joined us.

“How long are you here?” she asked, and unless I was mistaken, I heard hope in herb voice.

I’d only intended this visit to be a quick stop in to my mam’s, but if Sophie was as happy to see me as the current look on her face indicated, I’d come by every fucking night of the week if I had to.

When I’d left the pub after our lunch the other day, I’d worried I might have made things weird between us. I hadn’t known what sort of favor she was going to ask, so when I realized it was a financial one, I froze. Ever since word got out about the contract I’d signed this spring with the Irish Rugby Football Union, I’d had a few people slither out of the woodwork to ask me for money.

I hadn’t wanted to think Sophie was like that, especially since I knew she came from money herself, but my reaction had been automatic. When she’d assured me she was only looking for my time, I’d relaxed. But then I’d felt weird about her not asking me to invest in the pub. If anyone could do it, it’d be me, and of course I’d give Colm and Maureen pretty much anything they asked for. That no one had asked for a dime suddenly made me feel like maybe we weren’t as close as I’d thought. Rationally, I knew my reaction was ridiculous, but when it came to Sophie Newport I wasn’t what you’d call a rational man.

“I’m just stopping in a couple of evenings this week. Mam insisted she needed my help decorating for Christmas.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to piss off Colleen,” Cian shuddered. “Anyway, you remember Sophie?” he asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Sophie Newport?”

His words held an added weight and I wondered why he was being so weird about her. Next to him, Sophie was blushing and chewing on her lip. As I looked between them, I had the weird sense I was missing something. And then I realized what it was. Sophie hadn’t told Cian we’d been texting and hanging out. But why hadn’t she? Was she ashamed to be friends with me?

“Sophie?”

Misinterpreting my question, Cian shook his head and grimaced. “This is going to be so good,” he said laughing. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d rather not watch you get gutted.”

I turned to Sophie and drank her in.

When we’d been kids, she’d had a golden halo of frizzy hair, but now she wore it in sleek waves that cascaded down her back. I wondered what it would be like to run my fingers through that mane, to wrap it around my fist when I fucked her. What those legs—miles and miles of legs—would feel like wrapped around my waist.

Of course I remembered Sophie Newport. I’d never forgotten her. And since she’d come back, she was all I could think about. Needing to touch her—something I’d avoided doing so far the couple of times I’d seen her—I reached out and clasped her hand in mine. Something snapped and sizzled between us, like when you stuck a battery against your tongue, but this current hissed throughout my whole body.

“Sophie,” I whispered, running my thumb over her palm in slow circles. Her name, spoken quietly so only she could hear it, came out sounding like a cross between a growl and a moan.

She closed her eyes and licked her lips, confirming she felt it too, whatever was happening between us.

When Cian returned, his eyes bounced between us.

“How could I forget Sophie?” I asked, answering his earlier question.

When I eventually dropped Sophie’s gaze and met Cian’s, he looked … curious, scheming. I knew that look and I didn’t like it. But then it was gone, replaced by a mask of indifference I’d grown to hate. Ever since his injury, Cian had become a master at hiding his thoughts. Not to be too much of a chick about it, but it hurt he didn’t trust me enough to share his feelings. I’d tried calling him on his bullshit once before, but he’d brushed my words aside, told me I was imagining things.

Well, I sure as shit wasn’t imagining what I’d just witnessed. Cian didn’t want me flirting with Sophie, and I wanted to know why. I could guess, but did I really want to go there?

Cian was a natural born charmer, and I knew the effect that charm had on women. Shit, everybody knew. All Cian had to do to get a girl was smile, say a few sweet words, and she’d be putty in his hands. But Cian wasn’t just a charmer. He was also a major player, going through women like I went through socks. He’d practically plowed his way through every girl in Ballycurra before we’d gone off to Dublin.

We both had.

And yet somehow, while my behavior had been the talk of the town, his reputation had remained untarnished but I hadn’t wanted to rat him out. I’d always figured one of his girls would be the one to do that, but nope. Never happened. He’d said it was because he stayed friends with them in case he wanted to go back for seconds. Fuck if I understood how that worked.

What I did understand, though, were Cian’s motives now. As he stood next to Sophie glaring back at me, he gave himself away.

His voice flat, he said, “From the way you’re holding her hand, I’m guessing you already knew Sophie was back in town and have become … reacquainted.”

Maybe I was just projecting, but he sounded spiteful. Yes, she and I had become reacquainted, but not in the way he insinuated. Not that I was opposed to getting acquainted with Sophie in that way—hell, it was all I could think about—but the snide way he’d hinted that’s what this was about was disrespectful.

Dropping Sophie’s hand, I warned him he was treading on dangerous ground. “Watch it man.”

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