Page 36 of Kissin Irish by Morgan
“Yeah, I caught Irish rushing out of the clubhouse. Let’s just say I gave him aweetaste of what to expect tomorrow.”
My brother beating him up on top of me throwing him out the other morning. No wonder he went back to Charlotte.
“You ought to throw the fight, Pagan Not for me and Irish. For Jass. We need to look for another nurse. She’s serious about leaving you. Says you’re making a mistake.”
“She won’t leave. And I’m not scared of Kingpin.”
“You’re not?”
“He’s not going to hurt me.”
“He’ll stick you where it hurts. He pays Jass. Hell, Kingpin paid thirty grand for Waldo. Do you think he’s going to buy me another guide dog if you beat Irish and humiliate him?”
“You’ll just have to go back and pass that program. You can get a dog for free… Kingpin doesn’t understand that family’s more important than money. I’m about to teach him a lesson.”
“Pagan. I love Irish.” As I said it, I felt it deep down in the pit of my stomach.
“Don’t be ridiculous, sis.”
“Do you want me to be alone forever?”
“Nah, but I’ll know the right guy when he comes along. This Irish isn’t the man for you.”
“I’m not even sure he wants me anymore,” I admitted with a sputter.
“I’m not throwing the match, sis. But nice try.”
“I’m serious, Pagan. I heard him talking to Charlotte Jones yesterday. Talking about how he’s wanted nothing but to be with her for years.”
Pagan hugged me close. His leather cut smelled just like Irish’s. I cried into his enormous chest.
“Sis, this is why I don’t want you to fool with these motorcycle men. They’ll just break your heart. They get what they want and leave you high and dry.”
The tears came faster. “You can throw the match now. You don’t have to worry about your bet. Irish doesn’t want me.”
“Hell, nah. He’s broke your heart. I’ll kill him dead now.”
Chapter 17
Stretching and yawning the next morning, the awful fact hit me. It was Friday. The match was tonight. My brother would fight Irish. The man probably hated me now. The thought of it had burst my heart. My chest ached.
I thought of us at the waterfall when he said he’d wanted to take someone there, like it’d been a special place. I never dreamed a man would take a blind chic to a waterfall. My face burned with the happiness he’d born there.
At the falls, Irish uttered a word I didn’t quite understand at the time. Now I wondered about that word he called me. What did it mean? Even if it meant I was somehow special to him, none of that mattered now.
I’d fucked up. I’d been so angry about him asking about Riff and me, that I’d blown up. Our short relationship was such old news. And fuck, I didn’t want to talk about going blind to Irish. I’d overcome that sadness. Sure, I was going through a rough patch with all the trouble with Jass and my brother, but I wasn’t a basketcase.
Not even having Irish’s number so I could say as much, I felt helpless. I wanted to talk to him before the fight.
After I showered and dressed, I grabbed my cane. With a flick of my wrist, it unfolded. Recognizing the sound of my brother snoring, I left Jassica sleeping in her room with him. I made my way to the clubhouse. Ignoring Sweet Tea complaining about the floors, I folded my cane and stuck it in my back pocket. I felt my way to the stairs leading up to the rooms over Royal Road.
Thorn lived in the one just off the staircase. He’d told me Irish was staying up here somewhere. I knocked and waited. Taking my phone out of my shorts, I pressed for the time. It was past noon. I’d slept in. A gust of wind let me know Thorn opened the door. He had his windows open.
He always smelled of the baby oil he used to shine his muscles. And thankfully foot powder. When he didn’t smell like foot powder, I smelled nothing but feet. It was a common problem with all the men here and their sweaty boots.
“Hi, Thorn.”
“Hey, sugar. Looking for towels? I’ve got a bunch hoarded up in here, sorry.”
