Page 13 of The Four Leaf

Willow blows out an annoyed breath, but I ignore her and take back the second shot. “It’s why we named the hotel, The Four Leaf. Our parents signed the lease on St. Paddy’s Day and thought it was their good luck charm.”

“That and they said it cost them a pot of gold to buy the damn place,” Willow tells Tommy. “Would you give us a minute?”

He holds up a hand and nods. “Got to go to the John anyway.”

She smiles an appreciative thanks, before narrowing her eyes at me. “Samantha Rayn, tell me what happened. You are–oh my gosh, are you okay?”

It’s only now I’ve realized I haven’t eaten anything but the breakfast hoagie this morning. Which was over nine hours ago. My head is already fussy, but I think it’s more from working on an empty stomach than it is the liquor just entering my gut.

“You have a snack back there?” I mutter, pushing the glass toward her with my index finger.

She scoffs, gesturing to one of her barbacks. His name is Klien. Such an odd name, though also unique. I remember him telling me it was German, and when I researched it, I thought it was ironic. It means little. He’s almost as tall as Adrian, which for me means I have to tip my head almost the whole way back–

The double snap of my sister’s fingers forces me to stop staring at Klien. “Sam. Answer me.”

I blink twice, my brows furrowing as I try to recall her asking me something.

Willow blows out a hard, irritated breath. “I asked what you wanted to eat, ass.”

“Well, I definitely don’t want ass to eat.” I smile, trying to lighten her snappy mood. But then I consider a song I once heard that gloried what a good tongue can do to the back door. “Well, I mean, not right now. I’d prefer something digestible.”

“For fuck’s sake.” She turns to Klien, clearly exasperated. “A croissant, please. Butter on the side.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite.” I sit up straight, my mouth already watering at the promise of food. “I hadn’t realized how much I’ve done without eating. Also, why are you so crabby?”

“Because my relatively straightforward sister is acting like an elusive dingbat rather than facing her one fear head-on.”

“Rude,” I mutter, tracing the bar top’s grain with my pinky.

“Tell me what happened between you and Adrian.”

Heat blossoms across my cheeks as the mere mention of his name makes me recall what he did. WhatIdid.

My feet were freaking stuck to the floor when he said my name. I couldn’t help but turn around–see if he’d stop if he knew I was there. But he didn’t.

He kept going, and Istayed.I listened to the whole ordeal while my pussy clenched so tight it hurt. Like physically ached from how badly I wanted to… give in?

I bite the inside of my lip too hard and wince when I taste the copper spread across my tastebuds.

The realization–the concrete evidence, finally settles in, sending goosebumps down my arms.

Adrian Stokes was masturbating to me.Me.His best friend.

What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Are things about to be awkward as hell? Or do we dive right in and make out on the couch?

If I’m being honest, I never thought about the beginning of what would happen if it ever did. Only the middle. The good parts. The place where we’re comfortable with each other and everything just flows. Never in the fragile space where I could do something clumsy and possibly drive him away.

Funny thing–in Irish Lore, St. Patrick was known for driving snakes out of Ireland.

“You’re trying to deflect. I see your mind working on another Saint Patrick's Day fact as we speak.”

I swipe my hands down my face before peering over my shoulder. Tommy still hasn’t returned, and all the patrons are too engrossed in their own conversations to give us a second glance. When I turn back to Willow, her amber eyes are wide, and her head is tilted to the side dramatically as she waits for me to speak.

“Fine, but for once in your life, please,please,Willow, don’t say anything.”

She takes an extensive pause, and for the first time, I realize what a “pregnant pause” is. It’s one that lasts abnormally long, and when you think it’s supposed to end, it keeps going, building anticipation.

It makes me feel jittery, so I decide to perform a C-section. “Promise, now.”

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