Page 25 of Taming Irish

Back in the kitchen, my mom is still scurryingaround.

I shake my head. “What are ye doingnow?”

“Making bread pudding. Yer favorite.” She glances at me and I swear I can see the scheme she’s cooking up in her mind before she says the words. “I invited Rose to join us at Emer’stonight.”

“Rose Sullivan?” I ask cautiously. One of my mom’s friend’s daughters, the woman has been pining for me since before we were out of nappies. Not that I’d turned her down every time she knocked on my door, but she’d become a little too desperate, showing up at my Dublin apartment wearing nothing but skimpy lingerie under herraincoat.

“She’s a nice girl. Ithought-”

“I don’t need ye setting meup.”

Especially not with Rose. There was nothingniceabout her. But I wasn’t about to tell my momthat.

A small huff is her only response as she turns back to her baking, mumbling one of her sayings. “Brick and mortar make a house, but the laughter of children make it ahome.”

I roll my eyes, and my right ear starts to burn, warning me that I’m about to get one of her lectures if I stickaround.

“Ye’ve got Emer to give ye all the grandbabies ye could want.” I kiss the top of her head, then turn to leave. “And do us both a favor and get somerest.”

“I don’t need yeto-”

“I’ll stop pestering ye, when ye stop nagging me about getting a wife.” I wink at her, knowing neither of us have any intention of doingso.

She gives a small grunt, holding my gaze for a moment, then shakes her head. “Ye’re abrat.”

“And still yer favorite,” I say over my shoulder as I leave the house, plugging Colleen’s address into my phone. It’s still early. Probably too early to show up at a stranger’s door and spring an impromptu date onthem.

But my mom wasn’t wrong when she said I was already going a little stircrazy.

Twenty minutes later, I pull to a stop in front of Colleen’s little house, ready to give her American houseguest the surprise of herlife.

I give one rap on the door and step back, ready for the fangirl squeal I have no doubt I’llget.

But when the door opens, I’m not prepared for the familiar face under the mess of tangled, damp hair she’s rubbing with atowel.

Makena.What are the fuckingodds?

“I thought you weren’t coming until-” She stops mid-sentence when her gaze catches my shoes, then skims up my body, her brown eyes widening when they reach my face, full lips parting in a small O ofsurprise.

“Hello, love.” I grin down at her, agreeing with Colleen’s assessment of the woman. With her brown waves falling in a tousled mess against freshly washed skin, the woman is drop-dead gorgeous. Not to mention that she’s wearing nothing more than a towel, exposing a generous amount of cleavage that I knew was hiding under all her baggy clothes the last time I saw her. “Well, isn’t this anicesurprise.”

I owe Colleen a big favor for thisone.

Because my day just got a whole hell of a lotbetter.

---