A small smile crossed his face as he leaned over. His eyes were on the TV, but his neck was a few inches from mine. One little move and my lips would be on his skin. I had to hold my breath and resist the urge to touch him. To inhale his manly scent.

  “You know, there is a documentary about rugby on Netflix. We could watch it together, then you wouldn’t have the excuse of not knowing the game. Could help in your job, too. So next time you try to find me a rugby-playing wife, you’ll know what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t know…” I said quietly, leaning back and putting my head down so I could get some space between us.

  “One little documentary, and I promise to bring you pasta from Rome.”

  I looked up to meet those beautiful blue eyes of his. The ones there was no way I could say no to. That’s what scared me the most. “Okay. But only if you promise to bring back chocolate, too.”

  He laughed. “Deal.”

  …

  I’d have liked to pretend I was very into the Hakas or whatever I was watching about rugby, but all I could focus on was how normal it was to sit on the couch next to Sean.

  Usually, watching a movie with a guy meant barely making it to the opening credits before he was hovering over me and we were naked.

  But Sean’s eyes stayed locked on the TV screen as he made little comments here and there and squeezed my shoulder at times to see if I was paying attention.

  When the documentary ended, he looked at me expectantly with his eyebrows raised. “So, now that you understand the game, how about Rome? Would love to have you in the stands wearing my jersey, cheering on your favorite hooker.”

  His dimpled grin was contagious, so I couldn’t help my smile, but I still had absolutely no idea how the hell the game worked—or if I could survive being in another country with the guy for a week. “You act like I should be an expert by now.”

  He nodded. “Okay, what didn’t you understand? I’ll try to explain it.”

  “Um…most of it?” I said with a grimace.

  “You aren’t serious, are you?” he raised an eyebrow.

  I shrugged. “I’m more of a doer, when it comes to learning, more than reading or watching something. Always been my thing.”

  He laughed then stood up, holding out his hand to me. “Okay, then I’m going to teach you the game.”

  I let him take my hand to help me up, but quickly dropped his, hoping he wouldn’t notice my sweaty palms or my nerves coming to the surface. “Right here? I’m not going to let you tackle me down. That’s a liability.”

  He frowned and took a step back, looking around the room as if he were searching for a magical answer. Then his eyes landed on the corner near my dresser, and he grinned, picking up a pair of red heels and setting them in front of him before going to pick up another pair.

  “Um, what are you doing exactly?” I asked, taking a small step forward as he placed a pair of Mary Janes in front of me.

  “You said you don’t want me to use you as an example of the game, so we are going to use your large collection of brògs.”

  “My shoes?” I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious as he lined up seven pairs, then another row of seven pairs facing the first.

  “Your shoes, or my new rugby team. Fifteen each, though, if this were the Olympics, we’d play sevens,” he said, his smile wide and his eyes glimmering like a little kid proud to show off his latest artwork.

  I nodded, my heart beating rapidly, getting excited at his own elation. “Okay, maybe I remember the guy saying something about that on the documentary.”

  He laughed, holding up one of my Mary Janes. “Ah, see, you were paying attention.”

  “Maybe a little,” I said, pinching my thumb and forefinger together.

  “Hopefully this helps to make sense of it, though these very lovely brògs are a lot prettier than the men I usually face in kickoff.” He held up a pair of my peep-toe pumps.

  “Is that one you or are you the lovely little black number?” I asked, pointing at my kitten heel to his right as I sat on the floor in front of him.

  He laughed. “You were paying a bit of attention to know I’m the hooker. And yes, this black kitten heel as you call it, would be my position.”

  He took a seat facing me, holding up the black shoe. “I’m the one who has the most contact with the ball, trying to hook it with my feet.”

  He moved the heel back and forth before picking up another heel and explaining the next player.

  Something in my chest tightened. I’d had so many problems throughout the years not understanding material when it came to school work. No one ever actually took the time to sit down and give the visual learner a lesson. Even if it did involve my shoes. Within an hour I was repeating plays back to him, and my pumps were battling my Mary Janes for a try.

  He finally pulled his phone out of his pants then slowly stood up. “It’s getting late, and I have practice in the morning, so I guess I should let you get your sleep, as well.”

  I nodded, standing up with him.

  Part of me wanted to invite him to stay. To put my arms around his neck and pull him close, inhaling his manly scent and forgetting all about me working for him, the marriage clause, all of it.

  But we both knew I couldn’t do that.

  That was probably why he just nodded and waved his hand. “See you tomorrow after practice? Still gotta find a date for Jack’s wedding, unless you’re going to accompany me.”

  “Well, at this point, it’s me or drunk rugby girl,” I muttered, not thinking he’d actually take that answer.

  He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “So does this mean you’ll go with me to the wedding, then Rome?”

  I shook my finger between us, the only part of my body that wasn’t completely frozen. “I didn’t say yes to either of those things. And even if I did, it would be just as friends for the wedding, since I’m probably going anyway.”

  “But you’ll think about it?”

  I sighed, letting my shoulders fall. How the hell was I going to get out of this one? “Yeah. I will.”

  “Grand.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sean

  Only good thing about a wedding was usually free whiskey, or so I thought. Until I saw the little pixie in the tight green dress with multi-colored tattooed arms that made her look like a pinup princess from my dreams.

  She walked out of the building, her heels clicking on the pavement as she raised a thin eyebrow at me. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you constipated?”

  I shook my head, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

  What the feck?

  No way I had feelings for this girl.

  We were pals. Work associates.

  That’s it.

  “Just not used to seeing you this dressed up. The little dress pants and button downs are one thing, and even those little wavy dresses, but this is something else.” I waved my hand in front of her as if I could encompass all of the little dress, clinging to all of her curves in just the right places.

  Feck, she was gorgeous, and my heart beat faster just from looking at her, something I’d have to clamp down.

  “It was this or some fishnets and a corset. Thought this might go over better for a Catholic ceremony, though,” she said with a little smirk.

  I tried not to think about what she would look like in the other option. My body was already heated to the brink, and I couldn’t take any more, spending the entire day with her since both of us were dateless. She refused to be my plus one, so she got her own invite.

  “Ready for a wedding?” I asked, opening the passenger door of my car.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, sliding in as I shut the door behind her then walked around to the driver’s side.

  We drove in relative silence to the small church near the River Liffey, where Connor and Fallon were married a few months before. Now Jack was marrying one of my best mates, Grace. Finally.

  But I wasn’t silent because I was thinking about my friend marrying my brother. I was trying not to stare at the beauty next to me.

  She’d always been gorgeous, that was true. I’d spent the night explaining rugby to her, and I’d wanted so much more.

  To stay the night. Not even sexually, but to spend more time with her. To hold her in my arms as we both fell asleep.

  I enjoyed her company more than I had anyone else’s. That was the part that scared me the most. Because I couldn’t fall for her. She made it abundantly clear she had issues with her ex and needed this job, not me. Which is why I had her as my assistant. Nothing more.

  No matter how much the thought panged my chest of finding someone else.

  As soon as we parked and walked up the cement steps, Connor opened the door of the church, poking his perfectly styled head out. “Great job being on time.”

  “I promise I’ll be on time to his next wedding,” I said with a laugh, trying to lighten the tense mood. Or, well, my mood, since all I could think about was the girl at my side and how I shouldn’t even give her a friendly squeeze because if I touched her, I’d be done for.

  Connor jammed me in the arm, which normally wouldn’t have done much, but that damn ring Fallon put on his finger dug right into the corner of my elbow. “That’s your best mate marrying our brother in there. Show a little respect.” He laughed. “And give it at least five years or so. That’s the proper thing to do.”

  Leah raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged. “Just a little marriage-joke fun.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, her red lips curling into a small smile.

  Feck, that damn smile could bring me to my knees, and I had to keep my wits about me.

  So I cleared my throat and opened the door for her before following her and Connor into the small sanctuary.

  Knowing Jack, and of course his wife Grace’s wealthy family, I thought they might want a big to-do at the Cathedral or some shite. But instead, they picked this place on the River Liffey with its small wooden cross over the door and only a few rows of pews.

  The man presiding was one of Connor’s mates from childhood, and we were told the church women called the man “Father What a Waste” even though technically he wasn’t a priest, just a brother in the congregation.

  But I wasn’t staring at the tall man with the booming voice. Instead, I kept glancing at the girl beside me, trying to focus on the preacher’s words instead of the curve of her lips when she smiled.

  That fecking smile.

  Grace, my soon-to-be-sister-in-law and best friend from childhood, gave me the side eye a few times, but that quickly stopped as soon as she started her vows.

  Still couldn’t believe Connor married Jack’s former assistant and now Jack was marrying one of my best friends.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I watched the two looking at each other like there was no one else in the room but them.

  I never thought I wanted that. Never thought about anything more than a night with a girl.

  Now I needed it, more than ever if my brothers and I wanted to keep the company. The one my new assistant was helping me keep track of, a job she kicked arse at.

  I should have been talking to Leah about possible dates in Rome, but all I could think about was what her lips would taste like on mine.

  Fecking stop it, Sean. Focus on the couple in front of you. Your best mate who went through Uni and your punk phase with you.

  Grace stood there in a lacey white gown, her hair in long waves to her shoulders. Gone were the glasses and dark eyeliner, and instead, those deep brown eyes were locked on my brother with a look of pure happiness that made my heart swell with pride.

  I never thought much about marriage, but seeing these two together—and Fallon and Connor, too—made me rethink a happily ever after and wonder what girl might be standing in front of me as we exchanged vows.

  Not the one who was currently sitting at my side, making my entire body lighting up every time I bumped my shoulder against hers.

  Feck. This wasn’t good.

  Focus on the nuptials, Sean. Nothing else.

  As soon as the couple said “I do,” everyone was on their feet and clapping. The noise knocked me out of my lusty thoughts as I stood with them. Even Grace’s little Brussels Griffon, Jane Pawsten, stood and barked at her grandmam’s feet.

  In a haze, I followed the couple and rest of the guests toward the main foyer where everyone hugged and offered their congratulations.

  Finally, Grace came up to me, and I took her in my arms, spinning her around before setting her back on the ground with hers eyes wide.

  “Just had to show your strength, didn’t you? Or are you trying to impress someone?” She smiled, tucking a strand of her curly brown hair behind her ear before she raised her chin, eying Leah and Fallon.

  It took everything I had not to roll my eyes like an offended teen girl. I just grinned. “Come on, I don’t need to do that to show off for a girl. I have my charm and this handsome mug for that. Besides, she’s my assistant. Why would I need to impress her?”

  I stroked my beard, putting on my best charming smile, and hoped she didn’t hear the pounding of my heart or see the shaking of my hands.

  Grace knew me better than anyone, and if she sensed I had something blossoming for Leah, then others would, too. I had to tamp that down and find a new girl to date. Fast.

  She smirked. “Whatever you say, brother-in-law.”

  I winced, shaking my head. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that. Or the thought of you and my brother together.”

  “Well, get used to it,” Jack said as he put his arm around Grace’s waist, and she melted into him in response.

  I’d never actually seen Jack in a real relationship, and the fact that he was now married to one of my best mates was still odd to me.

  This was it.

  Both of my brothers had their happily ever afters with their wives.

  This happy little bubble everyone was in could soon be over if I didn’t do my part.

  But I couldn’t think about that right now, since it was time to head to the reception at the pub for the happy couple.

  I had to grin and watch my brothers and their wives. Pretend it didn’t sting that I’d been rejected by a certain American, who also happened to be the only single girl at the reception, except for Grace’s mam.

  While the newlyweds danced to some old song I hadn’t heard on the radio in years, and everyone lovingly watched, I took my chance to slide in next to Leah in the booth.

  “Enjoying the festivities?” I asked, keeping my hands at my sides, even though the desire to put my arm around her and trace the lines of her tattoos was strong.

  But I knew one little touch and I wouldn’t be able to stop.

  “Well, Grace’s grandma asked me if my tattoos were real then licked her finger, rubbing it on my arm to see if they’d wipe off.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Don’t mind her. She’s a little batty, but a nice lady.”

  “Yeah, she seems like it. They all do,” she said wistfully, looking toward the dance floor where all of the happy couples now tried Irish dancing, laughing and holding each other as the fiddler played behind them.

  I was on my feet with my hand out, doing what my heart wanted before my brain could react.

  “How about we dance?”

  She raised an eyebrow, staring at my hand. “I don’t really dance.”

  “Come on, everyone can dance.”

  She shook her head. “Not me.”

  “Then I’ll teach you. Come on. One dance, and maybe after some more pints and whiskey, I’ll get you to do the two-step.”

  She shook her head, but a small smile appeared on her lips. “Don’t hold your breath on that one.”

  “Come on. What’s one dance going to hurt?”

  A lot. If I couldn’t stop thinking about her as more than my assistant.

  “I leave tomorrow, and you won’t see me for a month. Indulge me this once?”

  She sucked in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against the thin green fabric of her dress.

  “Okay. One dance,” she replied, putting her hand in mine, sending an electric jolt straight through me.

  This was going to be much more than just a dance.

  Chapter Ten

  Leah

  Going to the wedding in the first place was probably a bad idea, and so was holding Sean’s tattooed hand.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  I already couldn’t stop staring at the guy in his tailored suit, and now I was agreeing to be pressed against his hard body?

  Taking in a deep breath, I let Sean pull me to my feet, but took my hand out of his grasp as soon as I hit the ground.

  Well, I thought I was standing and ready.

  I didn’t think my heel was caught in a knot in the floor.

  The resounding snap-crack of my shoe’s heel breaking rang out and I fell forward, only to stop mere inches from the floor with the strong arms of Sean Murphy gripped tightly around my waist.

  I should have been mortified, not thinking how warm and rough his hands were against me.

  “Are you okay? I didn’t think you were that knackered,” he asked, his voice filled with concern as he righted me, his blue eyes searching my body as if he was looking for any marks or bruises from just a little trip.

  Or maybe it was something more.

  I shook my head then bent slightly, avoiding his heated stare as I took off my now broken heel—stupid cheap stilettos ordered online. “No, but my shoe broke.”

  He laughed, taking the broken piece. “Oh no. I think this was my best fly-half, too.”

  “Pretty sure that was your flanker,” I said grimly, pulling off the other shoe then finally, unable to resist the urge anymore, looking up to meet his gaze.

  “Ah, you were paying attention.” His face broke out into a huge grin, and I couldn’t help my smile in return.

  “Maybe a little bit. But these rugby shoes aren’t going to help me right now, since I didn’t bring a backup.”

  “We aren’t far from Grafton. I could go pick you up a new pair,” he offered.