Page 6 of Killian

“Let’s just say I don’t spend much time on this side of the pond anymore.” She looks away for a moment. “You always drink Dead Rabbit Whiskey?”

I roll my glass in my hand and smile. “Let me guess, you expected an Irishman to drink Jameson?”

“And I only drink red wine,” she deadpans, taking a sip of her whiskey.

“What’s your name?”

“Greer.” She holds out her hand.

I take her hand in mine. “Killian.”

“Nice to meet you, Killian,” she murmurs as her eyes devour me.

“So what brought you to the city that never sleeps?”

“My brother is getting married.”

“You sound thrilled. Don’t like the bride?”

Greer bites her lip, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Would you like to go up top? Less crowded and we can speak freely,” I offer, pointing above at the loft.

Greer slides off her seat. “Lead the way.”

I stand, grabbing the bottle of Dead Rabbit from behind the bar and our glasses. Greer weaves her hand through my elbow and walks with me. Once upstairs, everyone lingering leaves, giving us the room without a word said.

“Nice party trick.” Greer smirks.

“I aim to please,” I reply as I fill our glasses. I sit on the couch and wait for her to join. “Where were we?”

She takes a drink. “I would have to know my brother’s wife in order to not like her.” She gauges my reaction as she sits.

“Not close, I take it.”

“My family is complicated. But I’m sure you understand that.”

Reaching over, I pick up a strand of her hair, running it between my fingers. “You could say that.”

“It’s a beautiful place you have here,” Greer says as she brushes her hair away from her face.

“How would you feel about leaving here with me?”

Greer leans forward, giving me a peek at her perky breasts covered in the green lace once again. “Forward, I like it.” She smiles quickly. “I would, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“Because even though I know who you are, you don’t know me. And the last thing I want is for you to regret our time together because I know I wouldn’t.”

“What makes you think I would regret it?” I challenge as she stands, putting distance between us.

“I know who you are, Killian O’Reilly. I know you drink Dead Rabbit because it makes you laugh drinking a whiskey named after another Irish family long gone. I know I came here with no intentions of meeting you and mean you no harm.”

“Who are you?” I ask as she walks away.

At the top of the stairs Greer stops. “If you still want to know me, I’m sure you’ll be able to pull your resources and figure it out.” She smirks before letting it fall. “Have a good life, Killian O’Reilly. Remember to stay vigilant.”

I stand and watch her walk out of my bar and can’t help but think, no matter who she is, I want her.

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