Page 28 of Billionaire Romantic
Something about this information digs into Lucky Irish, I can tell. She likes it. Her eyes get even more blue, if that’s possible.
“So, did you come up with the name Lucky Irish yourself?”
She laughs. “No. That was my best friend Grace’s idea. She created my profile on that dating app. I haven’t been on a date in…a while. She thought I needed to get out more.” Her eyes are still on mine. Like mine are on hers. “How about you, Noah Steel?”
I laugh, running my hand across my jaw. “That name was my brother’s idea. So was the dating app. He thinks I work too much. He thinks I need to loosen up and socialize more. He’d heard of the app and signed me up.”
“So we’re both here against our will.”
I clink my glass against hers. “To being here against our will.” I can’t help myself. “And to our Irish luck. And the most beautiful blind date I could have imagined.” It sounds cheesy but I don’t fucking care. She deserves all the praise I can give her.
Lucky smiles and it’s so cute-hot, my chest feels tight with longing. For what, I’m not sure. Okay, I’m sure. For her.To kiss those lush lips and get my first taste.“Where are you from?”
“Born and bred right here in the Big Apple.”
“How about that.” Her smile lingers. “So am I.”
“So now we know two things about each other. And they both match.”
“I guess at ninety-eight point two percent, we’re bound to have a few things in common.” She takes a sip of her champagne as she continues to watch me.
“I guess we are.”Wow, she’s gorgeous. “Tell me more. What does Lucky Irish do when she’s not being set up on blind dates with random strangers? The app mentioned you work in finance.”
As if she weren’t perfect enough, little dimples tweak playfully. “Yes.”
“So do I.”
“How about that.” She touches her tongue to her plump bottom lip, causing my hard-on to crank up at least one more notch. “Another thing we have in common.”
My voice sounds low and husky as I dig deeper. I know it might strike a nerve as I ask it, but I want to know more about her.I want to know if she’s okay. If she’s safe.My curiosity is almost manic. I need to calm the fuck down. “Is your family stillin New York?” If I didn’t know better, she could be in her late teens, she looks that young.
The playfulness fades out. “No. Both my parents died. I’m an only child. I live with the same best friend who set me up on this date.”
“Grace.”
“Yes. Grace.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your parents. I lost mine too.”
“You did? When?”
“My mother died when I was seven. My dad had a heart attack around four years ago.”
She watches me for a few seconds. “I was four when my mother died. My dad died only recently.”
“I’m sorry.” She’s alone and this feels strangely unbearable. Some new protective instinct flares and I have to fight the urge to reach out and weave my fingers through hers.
“So, I guess we’re both orphans,” she says.
“I never really thought of it that way but, yeah, I guess we are.”
She exhales a light laugh at her own choice of words. “It sounds very Oliver Twist, but the whole concept has kind of knocked me around recently.”
“It’s a hard thing to adjust to,” I agree.
“You said you have a brother.”
“Three, actually.”
