Forever At Last: (An Ireland Forever Short Story) Read online

  Forever At Last

  An “Ireland Forever” Short Story

  Rebecca Norinne

  Contents

  About This Book

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Rebecca Norinne

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  Copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Norinne

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product(s) of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or meant to lend credibility and authenticity to the story. The use of brand names and locations should not be read as an endorsement of this author’s work.

  For all the fans who’ve been begging me to write another rugby story … this one’s for you.

  About This Book

  Gemma

  When my fiancé left me for his secretary, I thought my life was over. Thankfully, my sister refused to let me wallow in misery. When she dragged me to Dublin, I never expected to fall for a sexy rugby player with the body of a gladiator and the heart of a gentleman. All I’d wanted was to get over my ex; I never meant to fall in love.

  Ross

  For years I’d been the best fullback in the league, but an injury forced me to retire early. I’ve been walking around numb, wishing for something that would make me feel alive again. But when I met the brokenhearted beauty with a body made for sin, I wished for something different. Something that looked a lot like love.

  Prologue

  Gemma

  The loud whoosh of my fluffy, warm comforter being unceremoniously yanked off my body was followed by a sharp smack against my thigh. “Get up!”

  I pried my right eye open to find my sister Bailey standing over me, her hands fisted on her hips.

  “Go away,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from a marathon crying session.

  “I will not go away.” Bailey plopped down next to me before vaulting back to her feet, her fingers pinching her nostrils together. “Eww, you stink. When was the last time you showered?”

  I lifted my arm and rolled my face to the side to sniff my armpit. Holy hell. I was rank. I nearly gagged when I answered, a new wave of sadness washing over me. “Saturday morning.” My eyes stung and my throat prickled, but I managed to keep the tears at bay.

  Bailey groaned. “It’s Wednesday, Gemma.”

  “It is?” I pushed up onto my elbows and glanced around my bedroom, the contents of my suitcase flung every which way. And on the back of my door, my wedding dress hung limply, one delicate lace cap sleeve barely holding on by a thread—kind of like me. “Are you sure?”

  “Gemma!” My sister threw her hands up in exasperation. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  I sat up on the side of my bed and planted my feet on the floor. “No, I’m not kidding. In case you haven’t noticed, my world just imploded.”

  “Can I be honest?” she asked, her voice a mixture of tough love and sympathy.

  I laughed humorlessly. “If this is where you tell me everything happens for a reason, I might have to punch you in the tit.”

  “You have to admit, Gem, you’re better off without him.”

  The him in question being Blake Carlington, my former fiancé and one of city’s wealthiest real estate magnates. Perhaps I’d been naive not to notice that he’d been fucking his secretary (and who knew who else), but I’d been blinded by love—and also, if I were completely honest, a little bit of fear.

  Not that Blake had ever physically hurt me, but I’d become wholly dependent on him during the years we’d been together. Once he’d put that six-carat diamond on my finger, he’d forced me to quit my job and give up my apartment, moving me into a luxury penthouse in his latest development. An apartment, I now realized, I’d have to give up. But even so, Bailey was right. The moment his whore had shown up at the church, her belly swollen with his baby, the blinders had been forcibly removed from my eyes.

  I just wished it hadn’t happened in front of three hundred people.

  My gaze flicked back to my dress. It really was beautiful. It was too bad Cassidy had tried to tear it off of me while shouting about how it should have been hers. If she hadn’t ruined it, I could have sold it in at a consignment shop; the cash would have come in handy right about now. Instead, I was basically penniless.

  I pushed to my feet with a groan as my back popped and my hips ached. I was only twenty-six, but it felt like I’d aged decades in the last five days. Pain aside, it was time to shower and get on with my life. I was jobless, and about to be homeless. The days of hiding under my covers were over.

  As I moved past my sister toward the bathroom, I squeezed her arm. “You’re right, Bay. I am better off without him. Or at least I will be, as soon as I figure out what I’m going to do next.”

  “About that …”

  Chapter One

  Gemma

  I had to hand it to my sister. A trip to Ireland for St. Patrick’s Day was pretty epic.

  A handful of girls in Bailey’s sorority had scored exclusive VIP tickets to the first date of Blackthorn’s world tour, and while Bailey wasn’t necessarily a fan of their music, she was a fan of hanging out with her friends and getting shit-faced on someone else’s dime.

  While they were all staying in a castle outside of town, I’d opted for a room at the most exclusive hotel in Dublin—courtesy of my ex-fiancé’s black AmEx. I wasn’t sure how long it would be before he realized I still had the card he’d given me to pay for the wedding, but until he did, I planned to use it as often and as liberally as possible … starting with a room overlooking St. Stephen’s Green and a full day at the hotel’s spa. I was ready for some rest and relaxation—just as soon as I could muscle my way through the crowded lobby.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered to an older woman standing near me.

  “Ah, an American. I suppose you’re not a fan of the rugby then?”

  “Rugby?” I knew it was a sport, but that was where my knowledge ended.

  “You’ve come to Dublin during the most important competition of the year. The team stays here before every big international match.”

  All at once, a loud roar went up in the room.

  “That’ll be them then,” she added.

  I raised up onto my tiptoes to see what all the fuss was about. I couldn’t make out much from the back of the room, but what I could see was … impressive. And then, as the team drew nearer, I had to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. These weren’t just men, they were big, hulking gladiators. With their muscles and their scars and bruises, they were the exact opposite of Blake. If you’d have asked me two minutes ago which type of man I preferred, I would have said the chic, urbane businessman, but being up close and personal with the kind of raw animal magnetism these guys radiated had me reconsidering.

  “Wow. They don’t make them like that where I come from,” I said to my companion, only to be met with a deep, rumbling laugh.

  “Is that so?”

  “Oh!” I jerked back, startled to find the woman I’d been speaking to had moved on. In her place stood a man so handsome, so
stunningly commanding, that it almost hurt to look at him. I tried desperately not to stare, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to look away either.

  Which, to my mortification, he noticed. “See something you like?” His full, soft lips quirked up in a devilish smirk.

  “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head to dislodge the fog of lust that had rendered me momentarily stupid. “That was completely inappropriate.”

  He chuckled, an easy, lighthearted sound. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not like you asked me to fuck you.”

  I gasped. “Oh! Um, err …” I looked away before he could see the guilt written on my face. I hadn’t asked for it, but I’d certainly been thinking it.

  I wasn’t opposed to some horizontal time with this guy. I’d spent hours on the plane listening to Bailey and her friends recount their most recent hookups, and I’d realized that it had been years since I’d experienced that sort of wild abandon. I hadn’t said anything to my sister, but one of the reasons I’d opted not to stay with them was because I wanted a hookup of my own while we were here in Ireland.

  To quote my friend Bianca, the best way to get over one man was to get under a different one.

  And with his hard, taught frame with muscles in all the right places, he looked like the type of man who knew what to do with a woman. After Blake, I was ready for something a little more creative than a blow job followed by missionary with the lights off.

  My face grew warm just thinking about it.

  Thankfully, he misinterpreted the blush creeping up my cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that some of these women aren’t even interested in rugby. Rugby players, however, are a whole other story.”

  “Really?” I squeaked, before clearing my throat. “That’s a thing?”

  He lifted his shoulder in a careless shrug, and his eyes scanned the room for a second before he jutted out his chin. “See that brunette over there, sucking down a gin and tonic like her life depends on it?”

  My eyes followed where he’d indicated, my gaze landing on a woman with defined cheekbones and perfectly-lined lips locked around a straw in a rather suggestive manner. She was dressed in head-to-toe black, her hair and heavy makeup better suited to a night out on the town than a mid-afternoon meet-and-greet in a hotel lobby. In a sea of green jerseys and denim, she looked out of place. Honestly, she kind of looked like a hooker.

  “The prostitute?”

  He tossed his head back and laughed. “Not a prostitute. At least, not that I know, but she has been with three of my mates and has tried twice to get with me.”

  I ignored the pang in my stomach at the idea of him sleeping with anyone but me. Ridiculous as it was, I hadn’t been thinking rationally for the last week.

  “You could do worse, I suppose. At least she’s pretty.”

  Wait. Why was I encouraging him to pursue her when what I really wanted was him to go after me?

  He looked down at me with bemusement. “Are you always this adorably awkward?”

  “Um, no? I’m usually much more eloquent, but you seem to have caught me at a bad moment. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone so … so ...” I pointed his way, wagging my finger as if to encompass the whole of him. “Anyway, you’re attractive—which I’m sure you know—and the fact that you’re talking to me instead of her has me a little discombobulated.”

  “You think I should be talking with her instead?”

  “No!” I squeaked, my eyes going wide over my outburst. I schooled my features and tried to play it cool, but his lips had already split into a grin while his beautiful eyes danced with suppressed laughter. “I mean, um, no. You should talk to me. That’d be great. Yeah.” I blew out a breath. “Sorry, I’m terrible at this.”

  He extended his arm toward me. “Why don’t we start over?”

  I placed my small hand in his much larger one. “Agreed. It’s nice to meet you ...” I trailed off, realizing that I didn’t know his name yet.

  “Ross,” he answered as he squeezed my hand.

  “Hi, Ross. I’m Gemma.”

  “Hello, Gemma.” He smiled down at me again. “Wanna get out of here so we can actually talk?”

  YES!

  Except, as a rule, I didn’t wander off with strangers—no matter how insanely hot I thought they were. I was a good girl, who did good girl things. And leaving with a man I’d just met was definitely venturing into bad girl territory.

  But look where being a good girl your whole life has gotten you the she-devil on my shoulder whispered enticingly.

  I had to admit, the imaginary devil had a point. I’d followed every rule, done everything I was supposed to, and all I had to show for it was a failed relationship where I’d been publicly humiliated. Seemed to me that being bad like my sister Bailey would have been a much better use of my time.

  As if Ross could sense my hesitation, he squeezed my hand again and then stepped away. “Would it make you feel better if I promised to be a perfect gentleman?” He shuffled on his feet and glanced around the room with a look of defeat in his beautiful brown eyes, his easy mantle of confidence slipping. “It’s just that I used to be on the team, but I had to retire a couple of months back because of a recurring injury. I’d hoped to come out and support the lads, but it’s not as easy as I thought. Since I don’t get the impression that you’re into watching the match, I was hoping we could get lunch or something instead?”

  I studied him for a few heartbeats. A handsome man wanted to have lunch with me to take his mind off his troubles. There were certainly worse ways to spend an afternoon.

  I smiled up at him. “Sure, Ross. That sounds great.”

  After all, what was the worst that could happen?

  Chapter Two

  Gemma

  As it turned out, falling head over heels for Ross O’Connor was the worst thing that could happen.

  I didn’t know many professional athletes, but the ex-rugby player was unlike any man I’d ever met before. And best of all, he was everything my ex-fiancé hadn’t been: kind, considerate, funny—and entirely focused on me.

  We were only three hours into our lunch together, but already I knew I was doomed. When he asked me a question, I could tell he was really listening to what I had to say. When he told a story, he didn’t hold anything back or try to be something other than who he was.

  It was refreshing, and it allowed me to do the same in return.

  “Looking back,” I mused, slowly stirring the ice in my glass with my straw, “I think I was more in love with the idea of being Blake’s wife. In the beginning, I did love him, but lately I’d felt like something was missing. I hate to say it, but I might be more upset about giving up my apartment and my career to appease his ego than I am over the fact that he got his secretary pregnant.”

  “Such a cliché,” Ross said.

  “Total cliché,” I agreed before biting into my cheeseburger.

  Inwardly, I admitted how good it felt good to talk to someone who wasn’t swayed by Blake’s charm and money. I knew he’d never tell me view the situation from Blake’s point of view or to consider the role I might have played in the breakdown of our relationship. He’d never ask me what I could have done to make sure that the man had stayed faithful.

  “What are you going to do now?” he asked, pushing his empty plate to the side.

  I finished chewing and wiped my mouth. “Honestly, I don’t know. I suppose I could call up my old school and see if they have any positions available. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m a pretty kick-ass teacher.”

  “I’m sure you are. You think they’d take you back?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe not right away since the school year is almost over, but maybe for next term? I won’t know if I don’t ask.”

  “What will you do in the meantime?” He stared at me for a beat, then opened his mouth as if to ask a follow-up question, but nothing came out. His eyes darted quickly away and then back. “Do you trust me, Gemma?” r />
  I didn’t even have to think about my answer. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  Maybe it was dumb to put my faith in Ross, but we had a connection I couldn’t explain. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’d never felt as comfortable with anyone as I did sitting in that restaurant with him.

  He gripped the back of his and pulled a deep breath into his lungs. “Okay. I know how crazy this is going to sound, but what if you didn’t leave on Monday?” Whatever he saw on my face must have been bad because he rushed to continue. “You said it yourself: you don’t have anything to go back to in Boston, and I could use a nice distraction until the tournament is over.”

  “A distraction?” An uncomfortable churning in my belly made me feel slightly nauseated.

  While at first a “distraction” might have been enough, now I wanted something more. Deep down, I knew that was unrealistic—after all, he lived in Ireland while I lived in America—but the fact that he only saw me as someone to bide his time with until the next distraction came along cut deep. I’d already developed feelings for him, and I didn’t think I could handle being his plaything for the next couple of weeks. It would hurt too much, and I was tired of handsome men hurting me. “Sorry, but no.”

  He frowned, and an awkward silence fell between us. He tilted his head to the side and stared at me as if he was trying to read my mind. “I’m sorry,” he eventually said. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. It’s just that I like you, and I’m enjoying spending time with you. I thought the feeling was mutual.”

  I sighed wearily. “It is, which is why I can’t do it. I’m sorry, but I can’t be your plaything.”