She rose gingerly, secretly loving the soreness between her legs.
She’d missed sex, even the lackluster variety she’d endured the past few years.
Now…God…
Kelli wasn’t certain she’d be able to settle for anything less than what she and Robbie had shared last night.
Robbie.
She turned to look at him, but he faced away from her. She admired his bare, muscular back. She hadn’t realized he was so strong, so physically built. He hid way too much of the good stuff under his loose-fitting T-shirts.
Glancing around the room, she spotted her Merida dress laying in a heap near the corner. She hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothes, which was stupid. She’d known she was spending the night, but she’d been running late and figured she’d just borrow something from Darcy for the return trip home.
She stood up and stretched. The shifting of the mattress didn’t wake Robbie, but it roused him enough that he turned over, his arm claiming the spot she’d just vacated.
Kelli started to bend down to see if she could wake him with a kiss, but as she shifted closer…
Fuck.
No.
Fuck no.
She backed away from the bed quickly, her heart suddenly lodged in her throat, her lungs constricted so tightly, she couldn’t breathe.
Padraig?
She shook her head, sheer panic clawing at her, as she studied the sleeping form on the bed in the dimly lit room.
Not Robbie.
Padraig’s clean-shaven face was peaceful as he slept.
Kelli’s brain was on system overload as she tried to figure out what was going on.
Padraig had been drunk last night. Very drunk. And sad about Mia and upset about almost losing Seamus.
Had he sought her out? For sex?
No.
Jesus, no. He wouldn’t do that. It didn’t make sense.
He shifted again and she reacted before she could think.
Escape.
The headache she’d thought bearable was now a blinding migraine, and she suddenly felt nauseous.
She had to get the fuck out of there.
Kelli quickly reached for her dress, shoving it on, only bothering to zip it halfway up her back.
Where the fuck are my shoes?
Downstairs. The rest of her stuff was downstairs.
Tiptoeing to the door, she left the room, managing to get her stuff and get out of the apartment—and closed pub—without running into anyone.
Dashing across the street in her ridiculous ballgown—talk about the ultimate Halloween walk of shame—she got into her car and stared out the windshield without seeing anything around her. Her hands were trembling as one thought kept beating a tempo in her aching head.
What the hell have I done?
Chapter Six
Kelli stood outside Pat’s Pub a week later and cursed herself for being such a damn coward. Running away last Saturday had been wrong. Stupid.
But she’d been hungover, shocked, and God…so freaked out.
So she’d gone home, taken some Advil, crawled into her own bed, and slept until dinnertime. After that, she’d gone on autopilot, sleepwalking through her days, tossing and turning all night.
At work, she was able to forget what they’d done before coming home and staring at her phone for hours, wondering and worrying what it meant that Padraig hadn’t called or texted her.
Then chastising herself for not calling or texting him.
On Wednesday, Padraig put her out of her misery.
Sort of.
He’d texted to see if she’d recovered from the party. She’d responded with one tentative word.
Yes.
Just yes.
Then he’d given her a “me too—barely,” followed by LOL and “See you Friday?”
And that was it.
Again, she’d just said yes, assuming he wanted to talk about what had happened after the party face-to-face. It was just like Padraig. He was sensible and kind and not a complete chicken shit, like her. Obviously, he wasn’t angry at her for leaving or upset about what had happened. She could have saved herself a lot of angst if she’d just stuck around the morning after. They could have talked it out, laughed it off, and moved on.
Except…Kelli wasn’t sure she could do any of those things.
She wanted to. Desperately. But…he’d rocked her world. Shaken her to the core. Good sex was pretty rare in her realm of experience.
Great, amazing sex? Unheard of.
Plus, Padraig had been her best friend since kindergarten, and never, not once in all those years, had she looked at him as anything more than the brother she’d never had.
Now…she kept remembering Friday night. The way he’d kissed her, spanked her, held her. It was fucking hot.
But even now, a week out, she couldn’t make the pieces fit. Because Padraig still loved Mia, deeply. He hadn’t gotten over her death and he wasn’t ready to move on.
She knew that because she was his best friend, and in a lot of ways, she felt like she knew him better than she knew herself.
So. No.
Nothing fit here.
She glanced through the plate-glass window and spotted Padraig behind the bar, pouring drinks, talking and laughing with Emmy.
He looked and acted exactly the same.
Meanwhile, she felt as if she was someone completely different, a stranger to herself.
She’d been doing Friday happy hours at the pub for years, but this week…God, this week it was taking everything she had to walk into the place.
“This is Paddy,” she murmured, trying to reassure herself that they could talk this out, make things right.
She couldn’t lose him over this. She wouldn’t.
Steeling herself, she opened the door and walked in, walked right over to the counter and claimed her stool.
Padraig gave her the same sweet, friendly smile he always gave her, the one reserved just for her, and she felt like she could breathe for the first time in days.
“There’s Merida! How was your week, Kell?” he asked.
She glanced from Padraig to Emmy, then back again. He was acting like, well, like Padraig.
So she gave him the same. “A whole week of five-year-olds hopped up on Halloween candy. I’ll let you puzzle out the answer to that.”
He laughed and lifted a wine bottle.
She raised her hand with an unspoken “stop” cue. “God, no.”
Padraig laughed harder. “Yeah. I hear you. Pretty sure it’s going to be a damn long time before I
