A Bad Bit Nice (10 page)

Em stood in the middle of the ballroom for a moment; then she spun around and walked briskly through the door while she made a call. She knew no one would answer on a Saturday night, but it didn’t matter.

“Rory, this Em Davidson. Holbrook doesn’t need me any more after all. Do you still need me to go Portland to back you up? Let me know and I can be on a flight tomorrow.” She ended the call and hailed a taxi.

Em sank down in the back of the cab. She made another call.

“Ashley, I’m ready to put an offer on that converted Victorian. I’ll explain everything when I get to your place.”

*****

By the time she finished talking, the bottle of Cragganmore was nearly empty, but Mick still had his initial glass. Em had stopped crying and was now speaking calmly, albeit slurring her words. Mick continued to rub her back, making soothing noises and refilling her glass without her asking. She laid her head on his big shoulder and closed her eyes. Mick pressed his mouth against her hair and silently wished Tripp a violent death or even just a terrible case of venereal disease. What a horrible person, acting like that. Who did that? Entitled assholes like Tripp Holbrook, it would seem. Mick kissed Em’s head again and pulled her tighter against his chest.

Em suddenly sat up and put her hands on either side of Mick’s face. “You, Mick Brennan, are the. Best. Listener. Ever,” she declared. Mick chuckled at her slurred words. He smoothed her hair behind her ear and placed a hand on her cheek. Em took another deep breath and said, “You’re also the best kisser ever, ever, ever.” She leaned into him.

Mick knew that he was about to get into a very sticky situation. “Em, love, you’re about half cut. You need to go to bed and sleep it off. Come on, I’ll help you.”

Mick swung her up into his arms and took her into the bedroom. He laughed softly at the hyper-femininity of Em’s room. Jaysus, this was the girliest room he had ever been in, all white wicker and fanciful wrought iron and eyelet lace. It was kind of at odds with her giant stocking tattoo, but in a way, it was totally Em. He pulled the covers back and laid her in the bed, then pulled a blanket over her.

“You joining me?” Em slurred sleepily, running her fingers over Mick’s jaw.

“In a bit,” he said, hoping that she would be passed out before he got back with the glass of water he intended to put on her nightstand.

Mick got a glass and filled it, then rummaged around in her bathroom, looking for pain reliever. He finally found some under the sink, along with a vibrating sex toy that he fastidiously ignored.

When he returned, her delicate snores filled the otherwise quiet room. He pulled the covers up higher and kissed her forehead before placing a wastebasket near the bed. He turned to Beauregard, who was keeping watch from the dresser. “You keep an eye on her, Beau. Don’t let anything happen to her. She’s going to feel right logy tomorrow, so don’t make her get up early and feed you.”

Mick smoothed her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek with his thumb, giving her one last kiss.

“Love, I’m going to let you get some sleep. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

Mick wrote a quick note and left it on the kitchen island. Then he slipped out the door, locking it behind him.

He ran his nose up her cheek and over to her ear, nipping the soft curve, his breath almost a purr. His arm lay heavily across her chest, holding her down. The soft hair on his bearded jaw glided along her cheek, teasing Em with its softness. Soft nips at her chin followed more nuzzling. Em offered up her neck for better access to those nuzzles.

“Mmm, that feels good, Mick,” she sighed.

The whisper touch became more insistent, the hushed breathing louder. Em opened one eye. Instead of Mick’s sparkling silvery-blue eyes, a pair of whiskey-amber eyes with slit pupils glared at her.

“No offense, Beauregard, but you’re
not
who I want to see first thing this morning.” Em sat up and immediately regretted it. She didn’t even remember getting into bed. She swung her feet to the floor, knocking into the small trashcan at the side of the bed. She squinted at the clock and saw her glasses on the nightstand next to some pain reliever and a glass of water.
Huh, I am never this well prepared for the morning after a night of drinking
.

As she drank the water and took the pills, Beauregard decided that he’d had enough waiting around for his breakfast and attacked her feet.

“Good lord, I will feed you in a minute. My bladder is about to burst.”

By the time Em made it to the bathroom, she was queasy and overheated. She leaned on the counter and looked in the mirror. She looked as bad as she felt.

Em groaned as she sat on the toilet with a cool washrag, trying to remember the lovely dream she’d been having. She could remember strong arms picking her up and carrying her across the threshold to bed, and then soft lips kissing her sweetly on the forehead. She remembered reaching up to touch Mick’s strong, bearded jaw line.
If only he had actually spent the night.

Em’s eyes flew open and she launched herself out of the bathroom. She saw an almost empty bottle of Cragganmore on the counter and two rinsed glasses in the drainer. Then she saw the note.

Em,

Hope you don’t feel too worse for the wear today. Come see me when you’re feeling up to it.

Mick

404-555-3678

P.S. Nice tats.

Em’s stomach roiled. Oh God, what had she done? Were those sexy dreams real? Oh no, had she showed Mick her tattoos? Oh God.

Em blew out a breath. Okay, plan of action. She always functioned better with a plan.

First things first: hangover tonic. She knew she was feeling okay now, but she would crash and puke soon. Tonic was definitely first on the list.

Second: call Ashley and ask her what the hell happened.

Third: move away and avoid seeing Mick Brennan’s handsome face ever again.

Okay, maybe not the third thing, but she was going to avoid the big man for as long as possible.

Em fixed a double batch of hangover tonic and drank the first glass down. When the first had done its purgative job, she drank the second and got in the shower. By the time she finished, she felt almost human again.

She called Ashley, who irritatingly found the whole situation hilarious.

“God, Ashley, I think I threw myself at him. I am so embarrassed.”

“How do you know you threw yourself at him?”

“Hello, Whiskydrunk Em equals Flirty Em! You know how I get!”

“Hello yourself , Em! I’ve been trying to get you to release your inner hussy for years! And it’s actually Flirtyfun Em when you’re lit.”

“Why did I have to do this with Mick? He’s such a nice man. He’s probably appalled. Ugh. I’m going to have to move so I can avoid him.”

“Didn’t he say to call him?”

“No, he left me his phone number and said to come see him!” Em practically shrieked. “It’s even worse!”

“How is that worse? You want to see him, obviously, because if you didn’t you wouldn’t be completely freaking out about possibly bad behavior that you can’t even remember. Do you have any real reason to think that you guys fooled around last night?”

“Well, no,” Em admitted.

“Well then let’s just bank on him being a super nice gentlemanly guy, and chalk up the tattoo comment to the fact that he saw that big-ass tattoo on your calf.”

“I
was
wearing sleep shorts when I woke up. And underwear. And a t-shirt.”

“See? You have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh lord.”

*****

Mick didn’t see Em at all for the next week, but she wasn’t far from his mind. Even drunk and weepy, she was very appealing. Did that make him a weirdo? He hoped not. He thought about her soft hair under his hands and the feel of her sweet curves as he held her. It was nice. Well, the circumstances weren’t nice at all, but the actual holding? Very nice.

He met Rory for their weekly burgers and beer. He’d considered inviting Em and seeing if she would bring Ashley, but now he didn’t think that was a great idea.

He got anxious just thinking about Em. It had been a week. Things were going to be awkward enough without Rory being himself and not-so-subtly insinuating that they should sleep together. But as obnoxious as his friend could be, Rory was the only person who could understand Mick’s feelings of conflict around this growing attraction to Em.

“So, you’re in her apartment, she’s completely trashed and looking at you for comfort, and you leave? Are you crazy, man? That was a prime opportunity!”

“God, I am not a rapist, Rory. She was way too far gone.”

“Good God, boyo, I wasn’t talking about doing anything that night. I’m not completely uncivilized. I’m talking about afterwards. You didn’t stay? Comfort her in the cold light of day? I’m not saying that you needed to sleep with her, but maybe get to second base!” Rory looked at his friend and shook head as he noticed Mick’s hand pressing the left side of his ribcage.

“
She’s
not going to tell you what to do, Mick,” Rory said, his voice gentling and nodding toward where Mick’s hand lay on his chest. “She
can’t
tell you what to do.”

“But I think she is, kind of.”

Rory blinked. “What?”

Mick took a deep breath, knowing that Rory would probably think he had completely and utterly gone off the deep end. “I think Grace is telling me that I need to do…something...with Em.” When Rory didn’t speak, Mick continued. “For 20 years, almost every night, I’ve dreamed of those last moments, when I saw her off to take the boys to your parents’ house so we could celebrate our anniversary. In the dream, she’s always said ‘See you soon’ and then I get the call that she and the babies are gone. After Em kissed me, the dream changed. She’s been saying ‘Goodbye, Mick’ these past few weeks.” Mick swallowed hard. He reached for his glass, his hands shaking.

“You never told me you had those dreams,” Rory said quietly.

Mick blew out his breath. “It was a private moment, you know; something that the two of us, and only the two of us, shared. I remember every second of that afternoon. And I didn’t want to upset you. I know I wasn’t the only one who lost her that day.” He took a sip of beer. “I mean, I KNOW intellectually that she’s not really communicating with me from beyond, but…”

“But. Yeah, I know. Mick, you know I’m superstitious enough to take it as a sign,” Rory chuckled. “So what are you going to do? And, also, what the hell do you mean, ‘Em kissed me?’ When did this happen? I’m assuming it wasn’t when she was sloppy drunk.”

“Well, she
did
kiss me last night, but yeah, it was sloppy drunk, bawling girl kissing, so not exactly appealing. The Kiss happened after we got back from that very first visit to rec center the weekend we met.”

“Why are you holding out, Mick? Jaysus! You know I’m going through a dry spell. Fess up! I need details!” Rory laughed, knowing that Mick would never tell him exactly what happened. He never had. Not that he really wanted the details of Mick’s sex life, mainly because that past sexual partner was his sister and no, he absolutely didn’t want to know exactly what they’d gotten up to.

Mick grinned shyly. “It was really nice. And hot. And just...right.”

Rory grinned back at Mick. “Mick, boyo, I believe you’re smitten. So, my man, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, Rory. I do not know.”

Em wondered if Mick had said anything to Rory about her tearful, drunken encounter with him. She was still embarrassed, but what was done was done, and she couldn’t take it back. She was a grown-ass woman with her own house and a cat and a career. If she wanted to kiss and grope someone on the stairs and then get sopping drunk later and cry in that someone’s arms, she could very well do that. So there.

Em had been staring at the same screen for half an hour. This was ridiculous. SHE was ridiculous. She still hadn’t talked to Mick or even seen him, as he had been out of town for the past two weeks. She continued scowling at the computer screen, analyzing the situation because that was what she was –an analyst. Ashley Em said thought way too much about stuff. Maybe she did.

Maybe she
should
just go with it, but too much spontaneity made her break out in hives. Last-minute plans, she could deal with. Like the trip to the rec center with Mick. That was last minute and she’d loved every second of it.
A happy medium is what I need. Nothing crazy.

Em almost jumped out of her chair when Rory said, “Wow, you’re a million miles away, Em.”              

“Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me, Rory,” Em sputtered. “I was thinking about...stuff.”

“Would this stuff be about six foot six and have a soft spot for weeping neighbors?” Rory smirked.

“Oh, God, he told you,” Em moaned. “I’m so embarrassed. He must think I’m a basket case.”

“No, he doesn’t. But I do have a reason that I’m in your office and yes, it does involve Mick.” Em groaned again.

Rory laughed and said, “I promise it’s not going to be painful at all, Em. Some friends of ours from Boston are playing a show at the pub and I wanted to invite you. Mick will be there, but since it’s a show, it won’t necessarily be as tense as you two sitting across the kitchen from one another, wondering what the hell to say.”

Em’s response to Rory’s invitation was interrupted by a jaunty ska ringtone. She blanched when she heard the ringtone and saw the look on Rory’s face. Licking her lips, she answered the phone. “Hey, Mick. We were just talking about you.”

“Hopefully good things, yeah?” Mick said. “I know it’s last minute, Em, but some old friends are playing at the pub tonight and I wanted to see if you and Ashley wanted to meet me and Rory there? The set starts at nine o’clock, so not terribly late, even though it’s a school night.”

“Rory was just telling me about the show. It sounds like fun. I’d really like to go. I’ll see if Ashley is available.” Em looked at Rory when she mentioned Ashley, and her boss’s face remained carefully bland.
Hmm, very interesting.

Em and Mick said some awkward goodbyes and Em hung up the phone to find Rory grinning at her. “What the hell is that ringtone, Em, and why have you associated it with Mick?” he asked, laughing.

Em reddened. “‘El Solo Toro,’ and you absolutely cannot tell him about it.”

“‘The One Bull’?”

“It’s ‘The Lonely Bull’ because Mick kind of reminds me of Ferdinand the Bull and he seems really lonely and he likes ska and it seems to suit him,” Em blurted out so quickly that Rory almost didn’t catch her explanation.

Rory’s face softened. The song
did
suit Mick perfectly.

“Ashley originally assigned ‘Mickey’ by Toni Basil to him, and that was just unacceptable.” Thank goodness Em had caught it before she was around Mick or Rory.

“Oh, you would have been in trouble if Mick had heard that. He abhors that song.” Em had expected that reaction to the popular eighties song, but not Rory’s demeanor when he confirmed it.

“Why does he hate that song, Rory? It sounds like there’s more to that story.”

Rory rubbed his forehead. “We met a couple of years after that song came out, yeah? People would sing that to him, taunting him, because, you know, he
wasn’t
fine at all in those days. He was a really tall, really skinny, really shabby kid with a terrible haircut and too-short trousers and holes in his trainers.”

Em frowned. “That breaks my heart, Rory. That’s horrible.”

“Of course, we were in junior high—no one looked beyond the bad haircut and terrible clothes to see that he really was very handsome, even then, and he was always kind and, yes, very gentle. Probably too gentle.” Rory shook his head at the bad memories. “So, you’re going, right? I’ll even look the other way if you tie one on and need to come in late tomorrow morning.” He looked at her with pleading eyes.

“Oh, all right. I’ll be there, even if Ashley’s not. This sounds like more my scene than hers, anyway.”

“Excellent! We’ll have a reserved table so we can see, but everybody usually ends up dancing, so dress accordingly. See you there!”

Em chewed her lip again as she dialed Ashley’s number. “Ash, you’re going to the pub tonight, I don’t care if it’s a school night or not. You need to come over at 7:30 and help me pick out an outfit. Mick will be there. And Rory.”

*****

“Em, love, you’re looking deadly tonight,” Rory said, kissing her cheek. “Ashley, as always, it’s a pleasure.” Rory squeezed Ashley’s hand in greeting, at which Em raised her eyebrows. When Ashley scowled, Rory quickly removed his hand.

Em spied Mick talking with a guy who, she assumed, was the guitarist of the band. He didn’t see her, and she took advantage of his distraction to peruse his long, lean body.

He looked good,
really
good, in his dark jeans and boots. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up. Boy, there was almost nothing sexier than a nice manly forearm. S
igh
. He was wearing his hair down and brushed back, which enhanced his strong profile.

Rory pulled her attention from Mick to introduce her to several members of the band. Em shook each man’s hand in turn. Liam, the bassist, held on to her hand a beat longer than the rest.

“I think you might have an admirer,” whispered Ashley from the corner of her mouth.

Em turned her attention back to Liam, who looked at her appreciatively. Em cleared her throat.

She just knew she was going to regret wearing this blouse, a red, short-sleeved, tailored chiffon number with white polka dots. And a very plunging neckline.

Liam lingered beside her and made small talk, asking how she knew Rory and generally being charming. He said something amusing, making Em laugh. The sound of her amusement caught Mick’s attention. He narrowed his eyes when he saw Liam’s hand on Em’s soft shoulder, touching the fluttery sleeve of that luscious blouse.

Mick’s eyes drifted down Em’s body. She had on her cuffed jeans, the ones that hugged her curves so perfectly, and the black platform sandals that she was breaking in when Mick showed up with breakfast those few months ago. In tune with the clothing, Em’s hair and makeup were rockabilly style, her hair caught up in a red bandanna.

“Who’s the chippie with Liam?” the guitarist, Rich, asked.

“That’s Em, and she is absolutely
not
with Liam,” Mick growled. Rich stifled a laugh as Mick stalked over to the two.

“Mickey! How are ya?” Liam exclaimed.

Mick simply nodded at Liam, but blazed a look at Em. “Em, I see you’ve met Liam.”

His gaze burned into her and took her breath away. “Uh, yeah,” She licked her lips. “We were talking about where they were headed on the tour.”

“Yeah, they’ll not be around for too long at all,” Mick said pointedly. Liam decided that now would be a good time to go tune his instruments, leaving Mick and Em to stare awkwardly at each other.

“You look great,” they both said at the same time, and then laughed nervously.

“I’m really sorry about the whole drunken, crying thing,” Em said. “I usually hold it together. I don’t know what happened. But thank you for being so thoughtful and sweet.”

“I would say it was my pleasure, but that doesn’t sound exactly right, seeing as how you were a miserable, bawling mess. But I was definitely happy that I could be of some help.” Mick looked at Em’s face. “Um, I
was
some help, right?”

Em laughed that tinkling laugh that Mick liked so much. “Yes, you helped. But I wasn’t a bawling mess; I’d passed that stage. I was merely sniveling by the time you arrived.”

Mick smiled that heartbreaking smile. “I’m glad you came tonight.” He lightly squeezed her upper arm.

“Me, too.”

“Looks like they’re about to get started. Can I get you a drink before they take the stage?”

“Yes, please. Can I get a hard cider?”

“Sure thing.” Another little touch sent electricity zinging up her arm and to her sex.
Yowza!

Em sat down at the table and Ashley immediately appeared at her side. “Girl, did you see how fast Mick moved to your side when he thought that bassist was moving in on you? That is HOT. He was totally jealous.”

Em made a face. “He wasn’t.”

Rory slid into the seat next to Ashley. “Em, he
was
completely jealous. I thought he was going to rip Liam’s arm off and beat him with it when he touched your blouse.” Ashley nodded her head emphatically.

Huh
. Mick returned from the bar with their drinks, eyeing Rory suspiciously.

There was no further conversation, because the band started playing. They performed a mixture of original tunes, Celtic rock, and ska. Em thoroughly enjoyed it.

Halfway through the set, Paulie, the lead vocalist, said “Now, this is the high-brow portion of our set. We have some friends from Southie in the audience and we’d like them to join us. Give a hand to Mick and Rory!”

The bar patrons hooted and Rory leapt from the table, while Mick remained seated. Em looked expectantly at Mick, who rolled his eyes and made his way to the stage.

Mick replaced the drummer, while Rory sat down at a piano. Paulie stepped back to let the saxophonist take center stage and Liam switched to an upright bass. Mick counted off the quartet and they exploded into a rendition of “Blue Rondo a la Turk.”

They were absolutely amazing. Rory’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and Mick looked at home behind the small drum kit, holding the drumsticks in a traditional grip. When they finished, the crowd was silent for a few beats, then erupted in cheers. Rory beamed and Mick smiled shyly but looked pleased.

“Okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way. Back to what we do best!” Paulie once again took the mike, and the saxophonist moved back, but Rory stayed on the piano bench and donned an accordion while Mick sat up on bar stool with a bodhran. Skankin’ Janey Mac, along with Mick and Rory, spent the rest of the evening performing a variety of songs, finally bringing down the house with a blazing medley of “Run Run Away” and “The Hills of Connemara.”