My insistence on driving had zero to do with who should or shouldn’t drive or whose car could handle the twisting roads better—hands down his could. It had everything to do with giving in and giving him what he wanted. If I caved over something as small as driving, Keegan wouldn’t merely walk all over me, he’d stomp me into the ground.
I swiveled my body inside the car and yanked the door shut. I turned the ignition, blasted the heat, and winced when nothing but cold air hit my face.
Once the car warmed up, the heat would kick in, I hoped. Keegan hadn’t moved, and I wanted to leave him there, but if I did, he’d jump into his rental and tailgate me the entire way home. I cracked open the window.
“Stay there, or get in. Either way, I’m leaving.”
He jogged around the car, opened the passenger door, and dropped into the seat. I controlled the urge to punch the air in victory.
The tip of his nose and cheeks were now a delicious winterberry red, and the rich scent of his sandalwood cologne infused with snow filled the air. Why did he have to smell so goddamn delicious, and why did I have a ridiculous desire to lick him from head to toe?
I’d welcome a cold and a stuffy nose, anything not to spend the entire journey smelling his aftershave. To stop myself drooling over him, I’d have to spend the car ride breathing through my mouth. That, or stuff my nostrils with a tissue.
“Don’t kill me,” he said.
“Wouldn’t that be a shame?”
While the car idled and warmed, Keegan occupied himself by scrolling through his phone, and I called Tyrone to rearrange the tasting for the next day at the castle. The culinary wizard’s expletive-laden response would’ve impressed Gordon Ramsey. After promising him the wedding would make him into a worldwide celebrity chef, I hung up and maneuvered my way over a rickety wooden bridge and out of the secluded castle grounds.
Thick hedges and tumbling stone walls hugged the narrow two-lane road, and bleating sheep huddled together in patchwork fields in a bid to keep warm.
The snowfall thickened and stuck to the roads, hiding the many pool-sized potholes scarring the asphalt. Despite the turmoil whirling inside of me and my foot wanting to put the gas pedal through the floor, I forced myself to drive slowly.
At our current zero-mile-per-hour speed, the drive to my apartment would take more than an hour instead of the usual twenty minutes.
The repetition of driving the route for the past few weeks set me on autopilot. There was no doubt I was in a sucky situation. How to get out of it was the question. I could either use every ounce of my creativity and business acumen to fight for what was mine, or I could hand the job over to Keegan and walk away with my pride somewhat intact, but maybe even that wouldn’t stop him blabbering to everyone.
If he exposed me, no one would want to be associated with a liar. Ireland was a small place, the wedding and event community even smaller. Once the gossip started, nothing would save my already ice-thin career. Screw Shane fucking Gorman and his fucking empty promises. I smacked the heel of my hand against the steering wheel.
“Everything okay?” Keegan asked, not looking up from his phone.
“Oh, everything’s perfectly fine.” The irritation in my voice said the opposite. “Frustrated by this weather and the roads, is all.”
“I should have driven. You’re too timid.”
“And I suppose you get all ‘I am man hear me roar’ and aggressive behind the wheel?” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.
He leaned over the center console, close enough that his breath fanned my cheek, and his musky cologne invaded my senses. “If you mean I like to be in control, you’re right, I do.”
A flash of desire shoved my irritation out of the way, and my breasts conspired with my nipples on the best way to bust out of my bra to get closer to him.
Previously comatose hormones opened their eyes and fangirled, leaving my underwear more than a little damp, which, in subzero temperatures, wasn’t as fun as it sounded. His sexy accent and alpha male act would not turn me into a swooning simpleton. No way. That particular road was one I had no plans on traveling ever again.
“You’re an arrogant ass.”
“I would say confident.”
“I would say conceited.”
“I would disagree.” Keegan shrugged and shifted back into his seat. He shoved his phone into his pocket. “We should find out a wee bit more about each other, don’t you think?”
“Thanks, but no. I know all I need to know about you.” I switched on the radio, and the sound of Santa Claus is Coming to Town blasted from the speakers.
“You don’t know anything.” He switched the radio off.
I switched the radio back on. “Exactly. Like I said, ‘I know all I need to know.’”
“I have three brothers and three sisters.”
“Don’t care.”
At a turn in the road, a tractor with monster-truck wheels bigger than my car swung around the corner, cutting me off. I slammed on the brakes and sent up a silent prayer thanking God I was driving so slowly and that my tires had enough tread to grip the road.
The glove box flew open, and a landslide of unopened envelopes plummeted onto the floor and onto Keegan’s lap and feet.
“Great filing system,” he said. “Don’t you ever open your mail?”
“None of your business.” I leaned over to pluck up the envelopes. The final demands inside would give him more ammunition. Not that he couldn’t already assassinate me with everything he already had.
“Drive.” He motioned toward the now clear road. His finger hovered over the back of an envelope as if
