Her Last Wild Ride. Эбби ГринЧитать онлайн книгу.
even happier to be leaving the frenetic pace of working on films behind me. The long hours and insecure freelance nature of the job had taken its toll. Not to mention my recent crappy dating experience.
I pushed down the lingering bitterness and looked at her. “So, we’re really doing this, aren’t we?”
She nodded, making her abundance of curly red hair bounce around her shoulders. “Abso-fricking-lutely.”
Nerves mixed with anticipation gripped me. We were setting up a joint business venture, a company called MacSullivan Inc. Jenna was a stylist, and together we were going to provide an all-in-one service for the hair/makeup/styling end of things for commercials, photo shoots and videos. Normally a production company called any number of freelancers to fill those roles, but we were going to be a one-stop shop and make a name for ourselves as the go-to girls everyone needed on their shoots.
We already had another old friend lined up who could do hair. The plan was to do it ourselves for the first few years, get it off the ground and then train up newbies so that they could take over. Eventually we’d hopefully have built up something of an agency with a byword in excellence. It also helped that one of my specialties from working on films was prosthetics, so we’d be able to do quirky stuff, too. I was also planning on teaching some workshops.
Ever since I’d gone to LA with my mother, I’d felt a little out of control of my own life, which had manifested as severe teenage rebellion. And even though I’d had a great career, it still felt as if I’d never really made the choice, because I’d been all but forced into an internship in the movie industry by my mother in a bid to keep me out of trouble.
But for the first time now, with this venture, I was taking control of my life. And it felt good.
Jenna turned businesslike. “Okay, so I’m going to Miami tomorrow for two weeks for the big family reunion for my nana’s eightieth birthday. Will you be working here?”
I sipped my cosmo and nodded. “Liam and Caitlin left for Mexico today.” My older brother had run the family business since our father had checked out in spectacular alcoholic style some years ago. I was happy to help out and find my feet after returning from LA, and make some money before throwing all my energy and savings into this new business venture with Jenna.
She said now with wide eyes, “I still can’t believe Liam is actually in love.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s freaking me out big-time. He’s always been so cynical...and I’ve never seen him so...content.”
Jenna shook her head again, still disbelieving. “This girl—is she a supermodel? Does she have magical powers?”
I shook my head. “Nope. She’s pretty, but not extraordinary, and she’s really sweet. I like her. She can stand up to Liam, which is cool to watch, actually.”
“Wow,” Jenna breathed, starting to space out. “I mean, if it can happen to Liam—”
I put down my glass and took her by the shoulders, making her look at me, and said firmly, “Exception to the rule. Ever heard of that one?”
Jenna made a face. “Too fricking often.”
“We don’t need men.” I imagined a long, dry life ahead and qualified it with, “Well, not right now anyway. We’re what’s important.”
Jenna lifted her glass. “Yes we are. And it’s a good thing we’re both single—no unnecessary distractions from world domination.”
“Exactly,” I said, and forced out betraying images of the hot, sexy stranger from earlier. “So we’re agreed—no men, no distractions.”
Jenna clinked glasses to mine and said, “Agreed.”
She gestured between us and our general pelvic regions and said, “No boys allowed in this area.”
And then she wagged a finger at me as if reading my mind. “Not even if Hottie McHotness from earlier makes a reappearance. If I’m going to resist the temptation of surfer dudes in Miami then you’re not getting any either.”
I had to repress a little illicit shiver of reaction at the thought of seeing the stranger again. Before Jenna could spot it, I clinked glasses and said with conviction, “I can guarantee that nothing is more important to me right now than getting our business off the ground.”
* * *
The following evening I was in irritable form. I hadn’t slept well thanks to one cosmo too many with Jenna, followed by a night of broken vivid dreams featuring an unsmiling gorgeous face and dark blue eyes.
Candy, the day manager and one of mine and Liam’s oldest friends who was also putting me up until I found a permanent home, had offered to stay and help, as I was still on my own manning the bar. But we both knew that wasn’t a solution because she already did the early shift covering breakfast and lunch, which was a vital part of the business.
I’d assured her I’d be fine. After all, most of the crowd were regulars, and I’d survived the previous night.
But the previous night had been Thursday. Now it was Friday, and things were already uncomfortably busy, and it was only 8:00 p.m. And there was no sign of any regulars. I would have given anything right then for Candy’s acerbic wit and tough presence, but she was on a date with a new girlfriend, and no one in their right mind came between Candy and a hot sex session.
It wasn’t until I’d taken the orders of a crowd of rowdy frat boys who’d come in and I finally had a second to take a breath that I noticed him sitting at the other end of the bar, on his own again, watching me. Immediately I thought of Jenna’s wagging finger warning me off fooling around and a very old urge to rebel made itself felt.
Crap.
I hated that my first reaction was intense excitement, followed by irritation. I was so not in the mood for this. I didn’t even realize I was glaring at him with my arms folded until he arched a brow at me.
I walked over, a mix of that excitement and unwelcome desire pulsing through me. “Yes?”
Those intensely dark blue eyes narrowed on me and I swallowed the urge to apologize. He’d all but run out of the place as if he’d smelled a skunk last night. So what was he even doing back here?
“I think I’ll give that Guinness a try after all,” he drawled with that luscious accent that put a serious dent in my irritation levels.
I fought the urge to smile—what was it about gorgeous men that had that ability to reduce perfectly intelligent women to simpering shadows of their former selves?—but I also knew I couldn’t be rude. Liam would have my hide if any customer felt less than welcome. So I just said lightly, “I have it on good authority that’s it’s as close to the real thing as you can get this side of the Atlantic.”
I went over to pull the pint, letting it settle for a minute while taking another order and then finishing the pour. I felt jittery, and between my legs was already damp. Shit. My body wasn’t obeying my firmly avowed resolution to swear off men for the foreseeable future. The last thing I needed now was the distraction of a hot guy. I wasn’t sure I trusted that my defenses had been fully reerected yet.
When I brought it back over, his mouth tipped into a sexy side smile and my insides tightened with pure, unadulterated lust. Christ, but you’d have to be made of stone not to react to that, wheedled a voice in my head.
“You know how to pour it like a proper Irish woman.”
“Well, I’d be letting the side down if I couldn’t pull a pint of the black stuff properly.”
He tipped the glass toward me. “Sláinte.”
“Sláinte,” I echoed. Then I heard from behind me, “Hey, miss! Can we order please?”
My cheeks got hot to realize I was neglecting customers. And when I turned around, my belly sank. The bar was heaving.