Pull At My Heart Page 16

Plus, I want it to be me. I want to do this for her, to be the man in her life however I can be. Just like what I’ve been doing with the studio on the second floor, day after day the past two weeks when she’s not around. It’s coming together so nicely. I can’t wait for her to see it, because making her happy is the only good thing in my life right now.

  So that’s what I do for the rest of the morning. Box by box, up two flights of stairs. My joy at having her here is nearly outweighed by distress over my dad and the lost hope of something more for my life.

  Julie

  Eoghan Murrough: I got caught up with stuff. Mind taking the bus home?

  Juliana Rodriguez: No problem at all.

  Eoghan Murrough: Okay, lass. Wrap yourself up with your Blarney scarf. It’s cold out there.

  Juliana Rodriguez: Already done.

  I pull the scarf snug around my neck and shoulders.

  Eoghan Murrough: Gotta little surprise for you when you get home.

  Juliana Rodriguez: Tell me.

  Eoghan Murrough: Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.

  Juliana Rodriguez: Damn you, Murrough.

  Eoghan Murrough: See you later, lass.

  I’m smiling. I always am, every time we text. He just does that to me. I wrap up some final things at my desk.

  Everything has been going swimmingly at work the past two weeks. Aiden returned to the office, but only briefly before he was gone for a meeting in Tokyo. He was so swamped and stretched that our only interaction was in meetings as a team or on the phone—and to the point and professional—which has been a relief. We still haven’t discussed that moment in his car, and I’m glad for it.

  Truthfully, I’m a little bit jealous that he’s getting to travel again, but then I remember he won’t be visiting Mount Fuji, he’ll be stuck in a conference room in some highrise for days. No thanks.

  Brigid is getting closer and closer to her maternity leave. Javier and I are most definitely going to miss her. We’ve been taking a lot of long lunches and I notice on more than one occasion that Deidre watches us come and go with keen interest. I’m not sure what her game is, but I don’t care for it.

  I’m eager to get home and find out what this surprise is all about, so I pack up and head out. I’ve got an idea, since basically I’ve been tracking the shipment of my stuff from San Diego.

  And sure enough, I’m right. When I get home, I find the boxes stacked nicely inside my bedroom. Eoghan must have done it, hopefully with some help.

  All of the boxes are just as I packed them, but one of the plain brown boxes is mysteriously covered in black and red sharpie doodles of stars and hearts. It looks distinctly like something Cara would do. I get a knife from the kitchen and cut the shipping tape. Right on top of the box of photo albums and journals is a framed photo of me and Cara at college graduation. Taped to it is an envelope with my name scribbled across it.

  With a gleeful smile on my face, I pull it off the frame and open it quickly.

  Dear Julie,

  My grandfather taught me that handwritten letters have a way of touching the heart in such a deep way. I figured it would be nice for you to get one with all this stuff. Could you be any more organized, by the way? This was the easiest task in the world for me.

  I giggle at that as tears well up in my eyes.

  Anywho, I miss you girlie. I love Reid with every bit of my being, but I need my best friend. We’ll be headed back to England soon and we’ll detour through Cork. Call me!

  XO.

  Cara

  I’m thrilled at the idea of Cara visiting me. God, I hope she does.

  “Everything look as it should, lass?” Eoghan says from the doorway.

  I turn his way and nod, so happy. “Thanks for getting these boxes up here.”

  “No worries,” he says and crosses his arms. Boy oh boy, does he look good leaning up against the doorframe like that. His t-shirt sleeves are rolled up a few notches, showing off his biceps, and he’s got a light sheen of sweat on his skin. I figure he’s been down on the second floor working on the studio and that makes me feel all gooey, like a warm chocolate chip cookie. I have this crazy desire to put my hands on him, to feel the slickness on his skin, but I know that’d be crossing the line, so I stay put. “It wasn’t too tough.”

  “I hope you had help with all this,” I tell him, but I have a feeling he did it all on his own.

  He confirms my suspicions when doesn’t answer in the affirmative. Instead, he plasters on another smile, but there’s something a little off about this one, like he’s trying too hard.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  His eyes meet mine and there’s something there, some sort of sadness.

  “Yeah,” he answers, but it’s a lie.

  I blow right through it. “Is it your dad?”

  His gaze turns downward. “Yeah. Same old story, lass. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “But I do worry,” I tell him.

  “Truly, it’s nothing,” he says, and meets my eyes again. He’s reassuring me and taking care of me, as always.

  “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

  “It’s fine,” he says again, and then immediately moves on. “I’d offer to help you unpack, but I just got the taxi back from Seán and I need to head over to the airport for the six-thirty arrivals.”

  “Sounds good. Try to not to pick up any girls while you’re there,” I joke.

  He stops in his tracks and I suddenly realize how possessive and crazy that sounded.

  “I mean, well…you know,” I try to backtrack. “I just got all my stuff, so I’d hate to move out.”

  He laughs a little and gives me a genuine smile before turning on his heel and taking off.

  I plop down on my bed and shake my head at how idiotic I am. But as I think about it more, the idea of Eoghan meeting a girl like me at the airport does sting. I like being the one that gets to live with him and be around him. I like being on the receiving end of his attention. And more and more, I like being his girl. I can’t stop thinking about how Liam called me that a couple of weeks ago. As much as it startled me, I’ve learned to love the idea since I’ve become possessive of Eoghan. But only as a friend, I tell myself, because I would be a damn fool if I started to have feelings for my roommate. That would be just as stupid as letting my boss kiss me one night after too many drinks.

  Shit, I’m screwed.

  Studio

  Julie

  “Do you really have to cover my eyes?” I ask Eoghan as he nudges me forward.

  “What fun would it be if I didn’t?”

  “You could let me see it already. That would be much more fun.” I can’t wait to see the space he set up for me to photograph the band.

  “Just a little farther.”

  “I feel like this is some sort of trust exercise you’re putting me through. Or at least a patience exercise.”

  “If that’s the case, lass, you’re failing at it.”

  I audibly “grrrr” and that makes him chuckle.

  We finally come to a stop. The front of his body is pressed against the back of mine and I have to remind myself to breathe. If he wasn’t already covering my eyes, I think I would have shut them anyway at the sensation coursing through me. Something about his stature, his masculinity, and the way he’s holding me close makes my chest tingle. He’s anything but small and can easily rest his chin on the top of my head, even though I’m wearing high-heeled boots.

  He leans down and his lips graze across my ear.

  Dear Jesus.

  “Remember, if you don’t like it, we can change it.”

  I bite my lip to hold in the moan that wants to escape me. I quickly gain my composure and murmur, “It will be great. I know it.”

  “Ready?”

  “Since like yesterday.”

  He slowly pulls his hands away and the light that streams through the windows pierces my eyes. After a few blinks, the space comes into focus. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. T
here’s a red velvet couch, some stools, two umbrella light kits, and even a white muslin backdrop.

  “What the…” I start, unable to find the rest of the words or close my mouth, for that matter.

  I notice that the boxes that used to be spread throughout the space are now organized and on some new shelving units made from two by fours.

  “Eoghan…”

  He runs a hand through his hair and looks down at his feet.

  “I can’t…” I murmur.

  His eyes snap up to mine.

  “Do you like it, lass?”

  “Like it? Are you serious? This is incredible. It’s almost…”

  My eyes wander over to a dark wooden desk accompanied by a weathered green leather chair. There’s a power strip on top of it, just begging for me to plug in my laptop.

  “…too much,” I finish.

  He shrugs. “Nah, not at all.”

  “Did you?” I ask, pointing up at the antique crystal chandeliers.

  “Christ, don’t be ridiculous. Those were already here.”

  “Okay,” I say, and let out a big breath. “So, I can use this for the band?”

  “Yeah, and anything else you might like. In case, you know…”

  “What?”

  “You get more jobs,” he says, and rocks back and forth on his feet.

  “Oh,” I reply and start laughing. “I doubt it. I mean, I like taking photos, but it’s not a business.”

  He lifts an eyebrow and doesn’t respond.

  Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. I wouldn’t dare to dream of it.

  “So, can I practice?” I ask him.

  “Practice?”

  “On you,” I say, and he answers with a mischievous smile. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He quickly glances at his watch and it’s not lost on me that it’s a Sunday. He’s usually with his mom on Sundays.

  “I suppose that’s a yes,” he says.

  “Awesome. Let me go grab my camera and tripod.” I dash upstairs to get it, totally exhilarated. When I return, his back is to me and he’s looking out the window. I take a moment to admire the view, because I dig the backside as much as the front of him.

  He turns around, with his hands in his jeans pockets and that crooked smile that I’d like to think he saves for me.

  Fuck, that’s hot.

  “Where do you want me?” he asks.

  Between my legs, my mind immediately answers.

  “How about on one of these stools,” I say, and drag one over in front of the backdrop.

  “I’ve never had my photo taken…well, except for school and the church directory.”

  “Never?”

  “Never,” he says, and laughs a little like he’s nervous or something.

  “There’s nothing to it. Just think happy thoughts.”

  “That’s not a problem,” he says, and his eyes meet mine.

  I take a deep breath and guide him over to the stool. He lets me, as if he needs helping finding it.

  I gently press him down onto the seat and leave him there to get my camera set up on the tripod.

  “I’m not sure I’m model material,” he says.

  I can’t hold back my laugh. “You’ll do just fine. Trust me about that.”

  I take a few test shots and employ my light meter.

  “So technical.”

  “Shut up, talent,” I tell him, and notice he bites down on his lip to hold back a smile. “Okay, ready?”

  “What do I do with my body?”

  Another question that dropkicks my mind directly into the gutter.

  “Here.” I walk over to him and put my hands on his shoulders. It’s like putting my hands on stone. “Relax your shoulders. Turn to the side, just a touch,” I say as I gently nudge him. He goes with it, as if he’s putty in my hands.

  “And let’s lift this leg up and rest it there.” I put one hand beneath his knee and the other on his inner thigh and then pull his leg up onto the bar that stretches between two stool legs. I don’t miss how his breath hitches in his throat. Maybe it’s the contact, or maybe it’s because I’m standing between his legs with our bodies only a few inches apart. My breasts are nearly touching his chest.

  I catch his gaze. His eyes are more black than hazel, and I’m guessing mine are too.

  “And then turn your head like this,” I say in a near whisper and gently place my hands on either side of his face. His strong jaw twitches beneath them.

  “What do I do with my hands?” he asks, his voice raw.

  “Um…” I say slowly, lost for an answer, lost for any kind of logic.

  “Here?” he asks and then places his hands on my hips.

  “There?” I reply in a breathless voice.

  “Yeah.”

  He squeezes my hips and pulls me ever so slightly closer to him, my tight nipples grazing just the tiniest bit against his chest. He’s daring me to come over to his side of the line. I’m right on the border, right on the verge.

  He works his jaw and looks down at my breasts and then up at my eyes again. I’m so overwhelmed by him that my eyes close and all I know is the feeling of his hands on me and his breathing and my breathing, and the craving on my lips and the heat that’s traveling to my center.

  Pull me across, I beg in my mind. I don’t care about the consequences. I want him.

  “Juliana?” he whispers against my lips and it’s a question, like he’s asking for permission.

  The word yes is on the tip of my tongue, when his phone starts ringing. Loudly. Abruptly. Terribly.

  He gently pushes me back to my side of the line and lets me go.

  I open my eyes and for the second time today, I’m blinded by the light in the studio. It’s disorienting and harsh.

  He quickly stands up and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

  “Yeah?” he answers, and paces around the room with his eyes closed as he listens. “Right.”

  He hangs up and turns toward me. “Seán’s here to pick me up. I’ve got to go.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Maybe another time?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I answer. “Or you know, I could practice on Ruth or something.”

  He has a funny look on his face and I realize how that sounds, based on what we just did. And God, I’m already feeling like a fool for what we just did. We almost made a huge mistake. One that could jeopardize our living arrangement, and I would hate to ruin that. I get the sense he’s realized that, too, because he’s backing away fast.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, and strides out of the room in double time.

  “Thank you,” I say after him, but it’s too late. I didn’t get to properly thank him or tell him how I’ll pay him back for the light kits and the backdrop, and for everything else he’s done for me.

  Eoghan

  Today’s been a pretty good day, all things considering. Sure, Mam saw more gray skies than blue, but church seemed to lift her spirits a bit and then we got to check out Seán’s architecture project he made for one of his classes. It’s a model for a brilliant building—a library reimagined and modern. I couldn’t have been prouder. I pray to God he stays on course and doesn’t let my father’s troubles tear him down.

  And then there was what happened with Juliana.

  All day long, I replayed our moment in her studio. The way her hands felt on me. The way she felt in my hands. The closeness of her body. The way she closed her eyes when I pulled her closer, like she wanted me to kiss her. And I almost did. I was so close to the one thing I want more than anything, but I was saved by the bell. And I mean that. I have no regrets about the interruption, because that kiss could be the end of us as we know it…and I don’t want to lose her. Just knowing that she wanted that kiss is enough to last me, at least for a little while.

  As I head home, I’m convinced I can still smell her lilac perfume on my clothes and I consider sleeping in them tonight. Because, apparently, I’m a creepy feckin’ bastard who’s obsessed with h
is hot flatmate.

  The pub has closed early, which is pretty typical for a Sunday night, so I figure I’ll just head to bed, but I’m surprised to find Juliana, Ruth, Dylan, and the band sitting at their usual table, all laughing and having a pint.

  “Eoghan!” the group collectively sings out.

  “What’s the craic?” I say.

  “You’re just in time,” Ruth says. “We’re playing Never Have I Ever.”

  “One of your favorites,” I say back.

  “It’s true, like,” she says, and takes a drink of gin and tonic, her usual.

  I pour myself a Murphy’s and then pull up a chair on the opposite end of where Juliana is sitting and take a drink. I steal a glance over at her and she gives up the smallest, most adorable smile. Her eyes are warm and I’m pleased she’s having a good time. I’m extra pleased that I didn’t scare her away with our photography session this morning.

  “Okay, okay. It’s my turn,” Ruth says, and she’s definitely a little tipsy. “Never have I ever sunbathed naked.”

  She looks around the table like an eager teenager to see who has done the deed. I take a drink, as does Liam, and to my surprise—and as added fodder for my wildest fantasies—Juliana does, too. Suddenly, all I can think of is sand in the most private of places on her body and my dick twitches in my pants.

  She’s smiling as she drinks, and then kind of shies away and laughs.

  “Oh, Julie. I’m surprised,” Ruth says.

  “I’m from California,” Juliana uses as an excuse and then points at me. “What’s your story?”

  “I was in Mexico,” I reply and then take another drink, hoping to hide my embarrassingly large smile.

  “Jaysus, I didn’t know I worked with nudists,” Ruth says, all giddy, and that makes Dylan chuckle ever so slightly, which is a lot for him.

  “Your turn, Julie.”

  “Okay, let me think,” she says, and presses a finger to her pretty lips and looks around the table…and then directly at me. “Never have I ever had sex with someone whose name I didn’t know.”

  Fuck.

  I consider lying, for the sake of her perception of me, but when everyone in the band lifts a glass to drink, I find myself doing it, too.