“Come upstairs. You can sleep in Finn’s room. Sheets are clean. Set your alarm early enough that you can go home, shower, and suffer through a hungover Thursday.”
Kelli stood up. “That sounds perfect. I don’t feel like being alone tonight.”
Colm felt the exact same way.
Chapter Two
Kelli was no stranger to sleepovers at the Collins Dorm—the name Aunt Riley had given the apartment above the pub. She, like so many of the Collins friends, had spent countless nights there, either after too many drinks or simply because it was late and they were tired. Now that so many of Colm’s cousins—and his brother—had moved out, there was plenty of room.
The two of them settled their tabs, then trudged upstairs. Kelli started to turn toward the staircase that led to the third floor, where Colm’s room and what had been his cousin Finn’s room, until he’d moved out, were located.
Colm stopped her. “I’m not tired.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Me either. God. We’re going to be totally fucked tomorrow.”
She was right, but he was keyed up, wired. It was strange, given how completely wiped out he’d been after work. He walked over to the couch and dropped down heavily. “Guess Darcy and the guys have already turned in for the night.”
“Looks like.” Oliver, Darcy, and Gavin had all stopped by to chat for a few minutes as they’d returned home from work before heading upstairs.
Kelli followed him, claiming the other side of the couch. “Do you regret your chosen career?”
It made sense that Kelli had gotten that impression after listening to his work horror stories the past few hours. “Not a bit.”
“I’m glad. Paddy told me once he worried about you, about how hard you work, but that he understood the reason why. That it was because of your mom.”
“You know our mom was in foster care when she was a kid.”
Kelli nodded. “I do.”
Colm’s mother, Lane, had grown up in the system, and while she’d shared bits and pieces of her childhood, it was evident her upbringing had been rough. When Colm decided to study law, specializing in family law felt like a no-brainer because he wanted to do as much as he possibly could to make sure other kids didn’t suffer the same fate as his mother.
“So it makes sense that you’d want to help kids who might find themselves in that same position,” Kelli continued. “Much as it pains me to say it, I’ve always admired you for that.”
“Damn, Kell,” he joked. “I bet that hurt.”
“So fucking much,” she muttered.
“You still happy wiping shitty asses and finger painting every day?”
“I’m teaching children how to read and write and learn to live in society as decent human beings. And yes, I’m happy with my decision.” There was no heat behind her words as she set him straight.
“It’s an admirable profession.”
She looked at Colm, waiting for the punch line. He didn’t have one. He knew for a fact she had a hard job, and he also knew she was damn good at it. God knew he couldn’t spend seven hours a day in a room with twenty-eight five-year-olds for the shitty pay she got.
“Thanks,” she said at last.
It occurred to Colm that this was the longest the two of them had ever been alone together, and civil. Whenever Kelli came around, it was to see Padraig or his cousins, Yvonne, Darcy, or Sunnie. Any conversations between the two of them were had while surrounded by his family, and they consisted solely of playful jabs.
“You still seeing Brooke?” she asked.
“Yup.”
She grinned. “Doesn’t bother you that she was totally into Paddy first? Sort of makes you the backup twin, doesn’t it? Sloppy seconds?”
“Gross.” Colm knew she was teasing him, but he bit anyway. “She and Paddy only went out on a couple of dates. They weren’t in a relationship and they didn’t engage in more than one good-night kiss at the door.”
Padraig had actually been the one to set Colm up with Brooke a couple months earlier. His brother had taken Brooke out a few years ago, but the dating ended the night he met Mia. After that, Padraig was a goner, falling fast and furious, for his beautiful future wife. Padraig had always been the king of love at first sight, but Colm had to admit, with Mia, his brother hadn’t been wrong.
“Well, I guess it’s a safe bet that you, the last of the original gigolos, have done more than just kiss the girl.”
Colm leaned back, adopting a cocky pose. “Let’s just say I’m rounding the bases at a steady pace. Always was a better ballplayer than Paddy.”
Kelli snorted. “Rounding the bases, huh? No home run. Sounds like you’re slowing down in your old age.”
“You don’t have to worry about that happening. Ever. That scoreboard’s about to change. Brooke and I have made after-party plans for Halloween. I’m going to spend the night at her place.”
“Well, she’s definitely your type.”
“I have a type?”
“Don’t be thick, Colm. Of course you do. Blonde, bubbly, more cute than pretty, boobs a must, but brains optional.”
Colm considered that, then smiled. “Damn. I do have a type. You realize you have a type too.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m open-minded.”
“Bullshit. You go for wimps, guys you can run roughshod over and control.”
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with sensitive men, guys who actually have souls, and who don’t look at women and only see a nice pair of tits and a firm ass.”
“Maybe not, but I guarantee none of those men have ever rocked your world in bed.”
He got the sense his words had struck a chord when she didn’t reply right away. It seemed as if it took her a second to regroup.
Interesting.
Maybe he was wrong about Kelli’s type.
“My sex life is just fine. Or…it was…when I had one.”
He shook his head, as if disappointed. “Just fine? Wow. What a terrible description. You ever been tied up in bed, Kell? Spanked? Had your hair pulled?”
Kelli rolled her eyes, her usual response to pretty
