Groaning loudly, I press cancel on the phone, taking my anger out on the phone.
Uh. I’ll never be able to come now that Liam has weaseled himself into my head. Now there’s a guy who could come quickly. All I had to do was give the guy’s willy a wee tug, and he was exploding faster than a gas tank with a lit match.
The lunatic outside sounds like he’s drunk-crying.
“Answer the phone, Clodagh!”
Fuck.
Double fuck.
Please say this isn’t happening.
I leap out of bed so quickly I feel dizzy. The vibrator falls to the ground with a thud. My pulse is pounding, but my limbs are frozen.
Stones hit the window. Not just at my window, but at the house in general.
This is not good. Not good at all.
The drunken ramblings grow louder.
Stalking toward the window, I rip up the blinds to see a disheveled Liam stumbling back and forward on the pavement.
He hasn’t spotted me yet.
Please don’t wake my boss.
Liam is singing Irish love songs. He’s changing the words to suit my name, but it doesn’t work. His feet hop as if the pavement’s on fire.
“Cloooooodagh!” It’s the desperate cry of an unhinged man, as if his soul is being ripped out of him. He closes his eyes and arches his back, rocking his hips back and forth as if in worship of the moon.
This fucker will get me fired.
I race through the studio to the front door, not bothering with socks, shoes, or a dressing gown. I don’t care that I stumble up the stairs and graze my knee. I’m going to murder him.
If Quinn comes out, it’s game over.
My heart hammers in my chest as I race out into the main hallway, the marble cold to my bare feet. I’ve never been so angry in my life.
The main door is heavy and hard to open. Finally, I pull it open with force.
Mid-sentence, Liam stops singing and stares up at me as if I’m not real. Then he has the audacity to smile.
“What the absolute fuck, Liam?” I spit out, glowering at him.
His eyes are bloodshot and glazed. His hair is a mess. He’s holding flowers that look like they’ve been stepped on.
“I’ve missed you, Clodagh,” he slurs, taking a step forward. “I’ve come to see you.” He stumbles up the first step of the townhouse. “I haven’t had sex in eight weeks because of you.”
“What do you want, a fucking medal? Stay away!” I yelp, looking for something in the hall to push him backward with. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Clodagh!” It’s another loud howl from the pit of his stomach.
“Shut up, man.” I wave my hands to shoo him away. “You’ll get me fired! Go away! Fucking hop it, dude. Go home.” I use my fiercest Donegal growl. “Now.”
There’s movement upstairs.
“Liam, please,” I whimper, begging him with every cell in my body. “Please. Just go before you get me in trouble.”
He burps.
“Soz-sorry about that. No.” He shakes his head furiously. “No. I can’t do that.” He takes one more step up, within punching distance. “That night, darlin’. God, that night. I can’t think of anything else since.”
Dropping to his knees, he thrusts the flowers out in front of him and begins crooning loudly again. He closes his eyes, and a vein in his forehead throbs as a painful rasp explodes out of him. It’s safe to say he’s not going to make Broadway.
I see red.
The cold stone slabs are like ice under my feet as I step out of the doorway, ripping the flowers from his hands.
Then I whack. I whack, and I whack, and I whack.
He’s not expecting it. He stops mid-wail, replacing the singing with grunts.
There’s no stopping me. Spewing curses at him, I bash him again and again over the head with the flowers. Petals are flying everywhere, and I don’t care.
“You make me crazy, Cloooodagh! You’re driving me out of my mind,” Liam wails under the flowers. His breath smells like he’s just given a pig a blow job.
I yank him by the arm and drag him down the steps with surprising strength.
“What the hell is going on?”
Dread hits me at the sound of the low, gravelly voice.
I turn, ass clenched in terror, to see a half-dazed, half-angry Quinn in low-hanging boxers glaring at me. He runs a hand through his dark hair.
Too close to the fantasy.
His eyes pierce through mine, fury building as he takes in the shit show on his doorstep.
“I’m so sorr-”
Arms wrap around my legs, and a drunken Liam lifts me off my feet before I finish.
I let out a piercing scream as he stumbles to his feet and hoists me over his shoulders until I’m fully airborne. Liam is strong. He works in construction. Even in his drunken state, he easily lifts me. With one arm, he pushes me into the fireman’s lift. I flop down on his back until my face is against his butt.
What the fuck is happening?
My pj shorts eat my crack.
“I’m taking you back to Queens,” Liam shouts as a deafening alarm sounds. The police?
No, it’s Quinn’s house alarm.
Kill me now.
I swing over Liam’s shoulders like a rag doll, blood rushing to my head.
Quinn shouts something, but I can’t make it out with my head banging against Liam’s butt.
“Put me down!” I rasp, beating his back with my fists.
He’s on the move. I feel every footstep he takes in my throat. He’s going to drop me, and I’m going to land on my head. “Liam, put me the fuck down. Now.”
The house alarm drowns out my cries. Everyone on the street must have woken up now from the noise.
Liam’s making good speed down the street as I hang upside down, watching the stones of the pavement move beneath me.
I’m past angry.
To make this ordeal worse, this must be the least flattering viewpoint of my ass.
I just want Liam to let me down so I can put some clothes on, pack my belongings, go to Orla, and put this terrible experience behind me.
I’m freezing.
He stops abruptly.
“Put her down,” says a deep American voice above me. Quinn. He sounds close.
“She’s my lass,” Liam snaps, tightening his grip on my hips.
“She’ll be the judge of that.” Quinn sounds furious.
I see a second set of feet on the pavement. Hairy big toes. A warm arm slides under my belly, hoisting me off Liam’s shoulders and onto even broader shoulders.
Quinn.