Pull At My Heart Page 10

  After that, I set up my laptop and camera on the desk in my bedroom and then venture over to the kitchen to find a bite to eat. His fridge is stocked pretty well with lots of fresh foods. I hope he’s into sharing. Cara and I certainly were. God, I miss that girl. I sit down at the breakfast bar with a sliced apple and text her.

  Julie Rodriguez: Hey, you’ll never guess where I am.

  I check the time on my phone. It’s already nine. Cara and Reid are probably tangled up together.

  To my surprise, I get a text back.

  Cara Montgomery: I’m gonna guess work. (It’s a safe guess.)

  Julie Rodriguez: Nope! In my new apartment.

  Cara Montgomery: Awesome! The one by your job?

  Julie Rodriguez: No, you won’t believe it. In the city, above a pub!

  Cara Montgomery: Seriously?

  Julie Rodriguez: Yes!

  Cara Montgomery: How did you work that out?

  Julie Rodriguez: It’s kind of a long story, but basically, I moved in with this guy named Eoghan.

  My phone rings.

  “It’s as if you have me on speed dial,” I say to my best friend.

  “You know you’re the top of my favorites’ list. You moved in with a guy? What the hell?”

  “Yeah, his name is Eoghan, and he’s very nice.”

  “Oh…Eoghan,” she repeats my pronunciation. “I was so baffled by the spelling, I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, apparently it’s an Irish thing.”

  “Got it, yeah, that makes sense.”

  “So where did you meet Eoghan?”

  “At the airport. He gave me a ride.”

  “What, like a taxi driver?”

  “Yes, he’s a taxi driver.”

  “Ummm, Julie, have you lost your mind?”

  “Don’t be a snob. He also owns a pub and a motorcycle.”

  “A motorcycle? Did you ride on this motorcycle?”

  “Yes, when he took me to look at apartments.”

  “Wait, what?”

  It’s fun to blow her mind. I’m usually the responsible one and now the tables are turned.

  Reid makes a comment in the background and she places her hand over the receiver so that it’s muffled when she says, “Nothing, I’ll tell you later.”

  Of course. They are a unit now. Not that I mind Reid knowing things, but sometimes I long to just have my best friend back.

  “Sorry, go on,” she says.

  “Eoghan is this really nice guy who picked me up at the airport when my boss didn’t show. He’s from Cork and he’s been showing me around a bit. We’ve had a nice time together and well, he owns this spacious two-bedroom place above his family’s pub and he offered the spare room to me for super cheap. I couldn’t resist.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she says—not to me, but to Reid—and I hear her shuffling around and then a door closing. She clearly wants a little privacy to ask her next question. “And what does this Eoghan guy look like? How old is he?”

  I sigh into the phone as I picture him. “He’s probably like thirty or something. He’s tall and broad shouldered, so strong, he’s got dark brown hair that’s a little longer and to-die-for stubble, light brown eyes—a little rugged, but striking.”

  “Okay, that’s quite the description. Be honest, is he good looking?”

  I look over my shoulder to the stairwell, as if hearing my one-word reply would somehow out me. “Yes.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “We’re friends,” I tell her and keep it at that.

  “Be careful there,” she says

  That makes me laugh. “Seriously, you’re telling me to be careful. What world is this? Plus, it’s not like you didn’t do the same thing when you basically moved in with Reid.”

  “That was temporary,” she argues.

  “Temporary, right. Look at you two.”

  She giggles. “I know, but let me give you a little bit of advice. When things got rough with Reid or when it got awkward, there was nowhere to run. When you’re living with someone, they are always there.”

  “Of course they are,” I say, deflecting. “Plus, it doesn’t matter anyway. I have no intentions of getting in a serious relationship and I don’t think he does, either. One of the new people I met, Ruth, told me that he’s a big old flirt but doesn’t get serious with anyone.”

  “And how are you going to feel if he brings a woman home?”

  I bite down on my bottom lip. It’s something that has been floating around in my head a little. Since it annoyed me down in the pub, how would I handle it in my home? I would have to deal with it. “It’s his home. He can bring whomever he wants to bring here. I won’t mind.”

  “Right,” she says, and I’m not sure if she believes me. I’m not sure if I believe me. “So, have you told your parents yet?”

  “Yes, well kinda,” I tell her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t told them about Eoghan yet. I’m pretty sure they think I’m living with a girl. And well, they don’t know that the flat is above a pub.”

  “Ouf,” Cara sighs, because she knows what my parents are like. “Aren’t they supposed to ship your stuff to you?”

  “In theory, yes…but wait, when does your trip end?”

  “Tomorrow is our last full day, then we’ll head to Rome and fly out from there the day after.”

  “Can you ship it to me instead?”

  “You don’t want to tell your parents about Eoghan, do you?”

  “You know how my dad is. He will not be okay with this.”

  “And you’re okay with lying to him about it? That’s so unlike you.”

  “I know, but I really want to live in the city and I think this is the only way I can really do it and stay within my budget. It’s such a good deal, plus the pub is so much fun. I’ve been able to make friends here already and I think that’s important, you know?”

  “I do and I am so happy that this Eoghan guy came into your life, I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’d hate for you to be on the outs with your parents. Trust me, it sucks big time.”

  “I know,” I tell her, and reflect back on the troubles Cara had with her mom. “So, will you ship the boxes?”

  “Sure, I’ve got to hand over the keys to the landlord next week anyway.”

  “I’m sorry I left you with all the cleaning.”

  “Ah, don’t be. Reid insisted that we pay someone to do it. I gotta tell you, I’m not used to this money thing. It’s a waste to have someone clean it when I could do it myself.”

  “Hey, if I were there, we’d do it together, but I’m glad Reid insisted. You shouldn’t have to do it on your own.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so. Okay, text me the address and I’ll make sure your stuff gets to you.”

  “Thank you so much, Cara.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Oh, and Cara, thanks for the advice.”

  “Of course. As long as you’re not hooking up with your boss, you’ll be fine, okay?”

  “Mmm,” I murmur and have a flash memory of Aiden’s tongue sweeping against mine. A chill ripples down my spine. “Right.”

  I’m on the verge of telling Cara what happened with Aiden, but she cuts me off too quickly. “Okay, I should get back to Reid. Have a good night.”

  “You too, baby girl.”

  Maybe my best bet is just to forget what happened with Aiden. He was so drunk, he probably doesn’t remember it anyway. It’s not like I’m totally traumatized. At least I don’t think I am.

  The last slice of apple is dangling from my mouth as I grab my new set of keys and head downstairs to see what’s happening there and get my mind off all this Aiden stuff. When I enter the pub, I’m shocked to see the police there, talking to Eoghan and taking one of the old timers out of the place. I hadn’t heard a thing upstairs.

  Dylan’s still there, standing on the other side of the bar for once.

  “Hey, what happened?” I ask him.

>   “Harold and Seamus got into a fight,” he answers, and points to a man sitting at one of the tables with an ice pack on his cheek.

  “A fight about what?”

  “The same old fight they’ve been having for years. Seamus married Harold’s girl and he can’t ever get over it.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…fifty years ago.”

  “And they’re still friends?”

  “Nah, they’re brothers.”

  “Ohhhh.” No wonder.

  “Seamus insisted we call the Gardaí, em…the police, as you call it.”

  “Why this time?”

  “Because he hit him pretty hard. Most of the time, it’s just a pint in the face, ya know?”

  “Oh,” I say again and watch the scene play out. Harold is screaming from the Garda van and Seamus is yelling back.

  “Too much drink,” Dylan mumbles and walks over to Seamus. “Ahh, out wit ya, Seamus. Get home now to Lu,” he says and picks the man up by his arm.

  The old man mumbles and set his ice pack down on the table as he stumbles out of the pub. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the first time this has happened.

  The guards finish getting their report from Eoghan. When he turns around, he spots me and lifts his chin. “Pub life, lass,” he says, and starts walking around to pick up all the empties. Dylan joins in and then I do, too. I grab one of the trays and fill it up with empty and half-full glasses. Apparently, the fight or the Gardaí scared off all the other customers.

  Eoghan watches me closely and comments, “You’re a natural.”

  “Yeah, I’ve worked in the food industry quite a bit. I’m a decent waitress.”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Eoghan says, and it makes Dylan look up from his table and look back and forth between the two of us with his jaw askew. Eoghan catches on and says to his bartender, “Go on, Dylan, we’ve got this. Have a good night, mate.”

  Dylan doesn’t budge. “You sure about that, mate?”

  The men stare at one another a beat too long, and then Eoghan nods. Dylan lifts his eyebrows. “All right then.” He grabs a messenger bag from the back and heads out.

  Eoghan locks the door behind him and shuts off the outdoor lights. We finish closing down the bar, mostly keeping quiet except for the occasional phrase like “here you go” and “please hand me that.”

  It’s nearly eleven o’clock when we finish and go upstairs. I really need to get to bed, but I’m not tired in the least bit. There’s so much to be nervous about, like my first night in a new apartment with a new roommate I don’t really know that well, my first day of work at a new office, and of course, my first time facing Aiden since we kissed.

  When we get upstairs, Eoghan excuses himself to his room and I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash off my makeup. When I come out, he’s leaning against the arm of the couch, wearing nothing but gray sweats and his arms are crossed over his broad, bare chest. I stop dead in my tracks and I can’t divert my eyes. My mind immediately flashes to riding on the back of his bike and how he felt in my arms. He’s chiseled in a way that I didn’t expect, although based on his arms, I probably should have. He has the right amount of chest hair, and a dark trail of hair that goes from his belly button down below his pants. He has that magic V that makes my own V clench.

  Dear lord.

  “I’ll have to get used to sharing a bathroom again,” he says, breaking me out of my spell. “Haven’t had to do it since I lived at home.”

  “Right, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean…” I mumble and then hightail it to my room. “Goodnight,” I blurt out without looking back, and close my door as soon as I’m across the threshold.

  Smooth, Julie. Real smooth.

  I quickly change into my pajamas and get into bed. It squeaks so loudly that I’m afraid to move. I listen carefully as the water runs for a little while and then I see the lights turn out from beneath the door. I shut off my own bedside lamp and lie there with my arm over my head. Living with Eoghan could be much more difficult than I planned.

  As I strategize about how to make all this work without looking like a damn fool, or a perve for that matter, my phone dings.

  I figure Cara had texted, but it’s actually Eoghan.

  Eoghan Murrough: Hi.

  I smile at the goof and then text back.

  Julie Rodriguez: You’re texting me…from across the hall.

  Eoghan Murrough: Yeah, you ran away. I wanted to thank you for helping downstairs.

  I plant my face into the pillow, mortified that I ran away because I couldn’t deal with seeing my roommate, my friend Eoghan, without a shirt on.

  Julie Rodriguez: You’re welcome.

  Eoghan Murrough: Goodnight and sleep well, Juliana.

  I stare at his goodnight text. It’s the third night in a row he’s been the last to wish me a goodnight. There’s something a little bit comforting about that. As hard as it might be to live with someone so damn good looking, he sure makes it easy to be his friend.

  Julie Rodriguez: Same to you.

  Eoghan

  The hollandaise sauce I made from scratch is almost done. I whisk, and whisk, and whisk some more. I add paprika, turmeric, salt, and white pepper, then whisk again. Perfect. I hope Juliana likes Eggs Benedict.

  The water is boiling to poach eggs, so I carefully crack each egg and drop it in, one at a time.

  I’ve been up for hours after a crap night of sleep. I was too wired and my brain would not turn off. I stared at the ceiling for hours, thinking about everything going on with my family and with the pub, but mostly I thought about Juliana. She’s like an explosion of hope in my life. Hope for what, I’m not sure, but something more than it was before she arrived in Ireland. I think a shakeup is exactly what I need, and Juliana most certainly shakes me up.

  My five-in-the-feckin’-morning shower is proof of that. I tried. I really did, but I couldn’t get her out of my head, so I gave in and wanked it while picturing her plump lips around my cock, those wide brown eyes looking up into mine. I may be taking a lot of showers in the future, because I truly want to keep my word about this whole friends thing.

  The rashers are sizzling away in the skillet and the eggs appear poached to perfection. I’m carefully fishing them out of the water when I hear her hilariously noisy bed creak and her door swing open.

  “Are you making bacon?” she asks from her room.

  I’m still fishing out the eggs, so I don’t turn around to look at her. “I am. We call them rashers.”

  She sighs warmly and says, “Whatever you call them, bless you.”

  I turn her way to respond and forget whatever it is I was going to say. The lass is wearing a tight yellow tank top and matching too-short shorts. She’s the sun and I’m burning.

  She pads across the living room toward the breakfast bar. Her tits bounce with each step. Good morning, nipples.

  If I didn’t care about the consequences, I would walk around the island, pick her up, and place her on top the breakfast bar, then settle in between those luscious thighs and wake her up properly. But I do care, so I stay frozen on my side of kitchen.

  “Are you making Eggs Benedict?”

  “I am.”

  She sits on one the stools and I can’t tear my eyes away. Her hair is beautifully mussed and flipped over to one side. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep and her pretty lips are a little swollen.

  Jaysus.

  It takes an incredible amount of willpower to turn away from her and finish making breakfast.

  “Can I have some?”

  That makes me laugh. “Of course, Juliana.”

  “I like that you say my full name. No one ever says it. Like no one.”

  She can’t see my smile and that’s probably a good thing. It would reveal how much I like that fact.

  I plate her breakfast and pass it to her, then plate my own and decide for the sake of my sanity that I’ll stay on my side of the island and eat
standing up.

  “Thank you. So, do you always make breakfast in your boxer briefs?” she asks with an arched eyebrow as she raises a forkful to her mouth. Before I can apologize for not being more thoroughly clothed, she closes her eyes and drops the fork to her plate. The most satisfying “mmmmm” I’ve ever heard reverberates around the kitchen. Her eyes flash open and she gives me a funny look and swallows. “You are very good at this.”

  I wave her off and dig into mine.

  “No, seriously. First the lasagna and then this?” She takes another bite and says, “Christ, that’s delicious.”

  “It’s only breakfast.”

  “No, seriously, Eoghan. You should serve this downstairs, you know, for brunch or something,” she says, and practically devours the rest.

  My chest swells with pride. Sure, I’ve thought about. Even in the dark hours of last night it crossed my mind. I’d love to play a bigger role in cooking for the pub. Now’s not the time to explore that, though. Not with everything going on with my family.

  “Crap, what time is it?” she asks.

  I glance across the room to my Grandda Sean’s old clock that sits on the mantle. “Ten after eight.”

  “Son of a bitch!” She hops off the stool and hightails it to her room. “I’ve got to get ready or I’m going to miss the bus.”

  As she dashes back across the flat toward the bathroom with an armful of stuff, I tell her, “I’ve got the taxi today. Let me drive you.”

  She freezes. “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Of course. I’d love to take a little drive to Ballycoom on a Monday mornin’.”

  “Thanks, Eoghan, and thanks for breakfast,” she says before shutting herself into the bathroom. The shower turns on and I decide to give her some space by waiting in the pub. Really, I’m the one that needs the space, because if I focus too much on what she’s doing in there, well, this roommate arrangement is going to be over before it ever really begins.

  First Day

  Julie

  It’s a warm and muggy morning. Cork swells with cars and pedestrians getting started with their day, and we’re part of that herd. I’m hella nervous about starting work. Okay, mostly about seeing Aiden.