Page 10 of Wild Irish

My fingers hover over the numbers. I think about calling my mom, but the last thing she needs is more stress. With Maeve having always been so sick, I’ve tried my best to never give them a reason to worry about me.

And now…

Everything I’ve done in the past twenty-four hours defies who I am. The rules I set in place. Rigid and safe; that’s how I lived, how I ordered my life. Even Matt, with his perfect smile and perfect job, fit into my perfect life.

At least, I thought he did.

“He’s bland. Boring,” Maeve had said. “What you need is wild and dangerous.”

Wild and dangerous. Two words that couldn’t define Cillian more. Maybe Maeve was right, perhaps a tiny taste of danger is exactly what I need. I’ve tried safe, and look where that got me.

Even if it ends in him rejecting me, it’s not like I’ll ever see the man again after tonight.

I bite my lip, tempted to flip through his contacts and pictures. I want to know more. I debate it for a few seconds until the phone starts vibrating in my hand, causing me to jump, and my heart is racing like I’m a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

God, I must be on edge.

I cough on a laugh when I see the name that pops up on the screen.

Bloody Fecking Bastard

“Clearly, I’m not the only person he has a problem with,” I mutter, putting the phone down and wondering whoBloody Fecking Bastardis.

I walk around the house, trying to get a better sense of the man. But the place is bare of mementos or pictures. The only thing that gives me any clue about him is the guitar beside the couch.

Yawning, I go to the bedroom. More bare walls. I open his closet. T-shirts and jeans make up the majority of his wardrobe. There’s an old guitar case hidden in the back, the first real clue of who he is.

If I was at home, I’d Google him. Or at least stalk his Facebook page, if he has one. He doesn’t seem like the type to spend much time on social media.

Not knowing what else to do, and completely exhausted, I lay down on the bed, burying my face in the pillow. It smells like him. Or at least what I think he smells like. Something wild and Irish. Woody and masculine, with a hint of a spicy cologne.

I’m going to do this.

Him.

Tonight.

Cross off number four on my list –kiss a stranger.

Then see where it goes from there.

But first, I need to close my eyes.

Just for a second.

Chapter 4

Cillian

Groceries and boozearen’t the only reason I needed to get out of the house. I had to get away from those curious hazel eyes. Eyes that beg me for something I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to handle.

Delaney.

I’ve always been good at reading people, but I’ve never met anyone like her…like there’s a war going on inside that pretty little head. Pain fighting against hope. Reservation against an untapped wildness.

The woman’s gotten under my skin and I can’t figure out why.

There’s a part of me that wants to protect her, keep her safe – even from myself. Because from the second I laid eyes on her, I haven’t been able to think about anything other than being inside her.

---