Authors: Kerrie Dubrock
* * *
Rick
returned home and took a hot shower. Multiple jets hit his skin, loosening up
tight muscles.
As
hoped, he did feel better and thought clearer. He remembered how Grace didn’t
like when he went a few days without calling her. He’d try that approach again.
It wasn’t a game he was playing. He was simply giving her time to think about
things.
* * *
A
lump formed in Justice’s throat when Grace opened the door. She shot him a
genuine smile, the second one, he noted.
“Hey,”
she purred, causing a lump to form in his trousers.
“Hey,”
he replied huskily.
Grace’s
heart hammered in her chest at the sight of him. He looked ruggedly handsome
with two inch beard growth on his face. Her eyes focused on his lips. Suddenly,
she wished they were pressed against hers.
‘Twas
not hard to notice the gel staring at his lips. She wanted to kiss him just as
much as he wanted to kiss her. “Feck bein’ a gentleman,” he cursed before
taking her face into his hands.
Grace
found herself powerless to resist him. In fact, she didn’t want to resist him.
She buried her hands into his thick hair and pulled him closer.
Strategically,
Justice kicked the door closed, turning her so her back was against it. Her
soft curves molded to the contours of his muscular body, causing a soft moan to
escape from her lips. Knowing her feelings for him had nothing to do with
reason; she freely gave in and pressed herself against him harder.
Justice’s
mouth covered hers hungrily and she returned his kiss with reckless abandon.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he gasped for air and rested his forehead against
hers, struggling for control.
“What?”
she panted, wanting more.
“Gel,
are ya tryin’ to kill me?” he rasped, pulling away.
Grace flinched at
his withdrawal and hastily wiped her mouth. “Hey, you started it,” she snipped.
“Aye, I’m also
stoppin’ it,” he mumbled, waving a hand. “This isna me and it sure as hell isna
you.”
Grace crossed
her arms over her chest. “How would you know how I am?”
Justice bent
and placed his hand on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Can we start
over then?”
“Start over?”
she snorted. “How far back do you want to go? When we first met at the hockey
game?”
A deep laugh
erupted from him. “Feck! I wanted you then, too!”
“Really?” she
asked, inching towards him.
“Stop Grace! I
mean it! Doona come any closer,” he warned.
Grace bit back
a giggle. When he said ‘closer’ it sounded like ‘clooser’.
“It’s gonna happen between
us sooner or later,” she called in a sing-song voice on the way to the kitchen.
* * *
The phone rang,
waking Rick from a much needed nap. “O’Shea!” he barked into the phone.
“We’re headed
to Murphy’s. Wanna meet us there?” Kanga yelled into the phone.
Rick pulled the
phone from his ear. “Are you drunk already?”
Kanga laughed.
“Nope. We’re riding on a double-decker bus. Ya know, doing touristy shit.”
Rick shook his
head. “Sure. I’ll meet ya there.” It’d be good to hang out with the guys. Get
back to the way he used to be.
* * *
Justice
followed Grace with Chewy hot on his heels. “See? How do you know we’re going
to end up…ya know?” he stammered, removing his brown leather bomber jacket.
“I’m a witch,
remember?” Grace stated, taking a sip of wine. “Would you like some?”
“Alcohol and
you aren’t a good mixture for me. I might do something stupid.”
She flinched.
“Being with me would be stupid?”
“Now, don’t ya
be puttin’ words into me mouth.”
“Why did you
come here?”
His eyes
widened. “’Twas not to make love to you! I’d like to get to know you better
first and I hope you’d like to get to know me as well.”
Grace gaped at
him, and then blushed. “I’m so sorry. You’re right, I’m not like this. It’s
just that I’ve dreamt about, well, you, I think, since I was ten.”
Justice’s
eyebrow lifted. “I think I’ll take that drink now, but I’ll need something a
wee stronger than wine.”
* * *
“Ricochet!”
Kanga called across the bar. “Over here!”
Rick rolled his
eyes. So much for trying to enter quietly. As expected, he was stopped by
several fans before making his way to the corner table.
“Got some sweet
babes here tonight,” Kanga replied giddily.
Sweeping his
eyes over the area, Rick shrugged. “I suppose so.”
Harpo tsked.
“Poor love sick bastard. Don’t worry; you’ll get your groove back.”
Kop waggled his
eyebrows. “In fact, there’s a hot looking babe making her way over here now.”
Rick turned and grimaced
when he saw Taylor.
* * *
With a glass in
one hand, and a whiskey bottle in the other, Justice followed Grace into the
living room. After chugging a good portion of his drink he mumbled, “I think
I’m ready for this story.”
Grace sat
cross-legged on the couch, across from him and sighed. “Since I was ten I’ve
dreamt of an Irishman. Back then the dreams were tame. I just remember always
feeling safe and happy in his arms.”
“And this man
looked like me?”
She shook her
head. “The thing is, I never saw a face. I’ve also never heard his voice.”
“Then how do ya
feckin’ know it was an Irishman?” Justice sneered.
“I just know he
spoke with an Irish brogue. Anyway, the dreams started again, only this time, I
saw your face and heard your voice.”
Justice stared
at her intently before taking a sip from his glass. “Do your dreams always come
true?”
“For the most
part, yes.”
“And you’ve
dreamt that we become intimate?”
Grace tucked
her hair behind her ears and nodded.
He took another
healthy swig of whiskey and chuckled. “Do I have any birthmarks, moles or
scars?”
She swallowed
hard. “Not that I’m aware of. But you do have a Celtic cross tattooed on your
upper right arm.”
Justice shakily
placed his glass on the wooden coffee table. He stared at her as he rolled the
right shirt sleeve up revealing not only a muscular bicep, but a Celtic cross
tattoo as well.
* * *
“Hey Ricky!”
Taylor crooned, sidling next to him. “Fancy seeing you here! Where’s Grace?”
“Like you don’t
know,” he scowled, lifting the mug to his lips.
Taylor frowned,
“Well, I’ve heard rumors.” She placed her hand on his arm. “For what it’s
worth, I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “
‘Open wounds are shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick, but wounds
still.’” He shook his head sadly. “Out slumming with these meatheads tonight,
huh?”
Taylor lifted a
shoulder. “Don’t have any girl friends to hang out with yet so…” Her eyes lit
up. “Hey, wanna dance?”
“Sure,” he
mumbled. What harm could come of one dance?
* * *
“You’re scary
lass,” Justice muttered. “What else can you share with me?”
Grace blushed.
“Well…”
He lifted a
hand. “Never mind. I doona want to know.”
“It’s not bad,
ya know. I mean, it’s spectacular,” she giggled, nervously.
“You’re gonna
make me blush, so stop,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “What happened between
you and Ricochet?”
She quickly
lost her grin and took a long swig of her wine, draining her glass. “Long story
short, what I felt for him wasn’t real.”
“Ah-ah-ah. No
fair. You can’t be elusive aboot everything I ask ya.”
“Fine, let’s
get back to how you and I end up in bed together,” she challenged.
Justice cocked
his head to study her. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?”
“Gah! Fine! You wanna hear
my sob story? Pour yourself another drink and I’ll fetch my wine bottle!”
* * *
When a slow
song came on Rick pulled Taylor closer and rested his head atop of hers. A
redhead tapped him on the shoulder. “Can I have this dance?” she said
breathlessly.
“Sorry
sweetheart, this lady has my attention tonight,” he replied.
Taylor’s pulse quickened
at his words and sent a warm fuzzy feeling to her stomach. When she looked up
at him, he shrugged.
“You’re safe.”
“Huh?’
“Well, it’s not
like I’m going to cart you off to my bedroom.” When her eyebrows knitted
together he continued. “You’re my safety zone. My friend,” he clarified.
Taylor rested her head
against his chest.
Tonight friends, but next week he’ll be in my bed.
* * *
“That’s a
mighty tale,” Justice murmured an hour later. “Now I understand why you didna
want me to explain things to him last night.”
“Yeah. So,
what’s your story? And why do you sometimes talk with a brogue and other times
you don’t?”
Justice smiled
and sat up straighter. “I’m trying to Americanize myself. Trying to convince
someone to not jump off a building speaking differently than them is a bit
disarming for some people.”
Grace shook her
head. “I don’t agree. People are more apt to listen to someone who isn’t like
them. Plus, it’s a known fact that American people would rather hear another
dialect than our own.”
“Really?”
“Yep! I’d
prefer to hear a hunky Irishman talking to me over an American guy any day,”
she giggled.
“Hunky, huh?”
he leered at her.
She wiggled her
eyebrows at him. “Very. So…have you ever been married?”
He nearly
choked on his drink. “You switch gears quickly, aye?”
“Yep. So?”
“For four
years. And, as you aptly pegged it when you read me aura, me marriage failed
because I was a workaholic. Next question.”
“When we first
met, you were hitting on me?”
Justice cocked
his head. “Is that a question or a statement?” She playfully narrowed her eyes
and he laughed. “Yes, I was hitting on you. I also thought you were dating him
for a meal ticket.” He held up a hand. “Until your aunt set me straight and
said
he
pursued
you
. She also told me aboot your spread in
Chicago magazine. I went out and bought an issue the next day.”
“And?” she
prodded.
“It’d been a
better article if there were more pictures of you and not so many of Chase
Storm.”
She
giggled and looked at him seriously. “In the parking garage, after you found
me. You said ‘a stór’. What does that mean?”
He
took a sip of whiskey. “I called you my treasure.”
Grace
swallowed hard. “Why?”
His
eyes brimmed with tenderness. “Because you are.”
* * *
The
following week, on October 31
st
, Rick scanned the crowd at the
arena. He saw plenty of women decked out as sexy witches, but not the witch he
was hoping to see. Zee waved to him from her glass seat. He nodded at her and
sped around the rink.
It’d
been over a week since he last saw Grace and when he prodded Dmitri for
information he came up wanting. Dmitri was very tight lipped when it came to
Grace and it pissed Rick off. Where did Dmitri’s fucking loyalty lie?
* * *
Tilda
and Grace sat at the large mahogany table in Tilda’s dining room. White
candles, fall leaves and ornamental gourds filled the center of the table,
along with more food than either of them would eat.
As
Tilda recited a prayer, Grace glanced around the room and spotted Reginald
standing in the corner.
When
the prayer ended, Tilda and Grace said, “Amen,” in unison.
“Poppet?
You seem distracted.”
Grace
lifted a shoulder. “Just wish mom and dad were here. Feels funny celebrating
without them.”
Tilda
scooped potatoes onto her plate and passed it to Grace. “I thought maybe you
were missing someone else.”
Grace
lifted an eyebrow. “Like?”
“Rick?
Justice?”
“Aunt
Tilda!” Grace hissed. “Rick is out of my life, okay?”
“If
you say so, dear. Pass the ham, please.”
“Reginald?
Keep your woman in line, will ya?”
“That’s
not bloody likely,” Reginald laughed heartily. “So, what are your plans for
this Samhain, Grace?”
Grace
swallowed a forkful of potatoes. “I’m meeting Justice at Murphy’s later. What
are you two gonna do?”
“Well,
since you asked. The portal’s wide open, isn’t it dear?” Tilda leered at
Reginald.
Grace
rolled her eyes. “Sorry I asked!”
* * *
Justice
sat at a table with Greg and Tamara, nursing a beer. Every ten minutes he
checked his watch and his mobile, waiting impatiently for Grace.
“Holy
fuck! Look at him beat that guy’s ass!” Greg yelled, watching the hockey game
on the big screen television.
Glancing
up, Justice winced. He hoped the game would be over before Grace arrived. He
sure as hell didna need her to see her ex on the telly. He had plans tonight
and didna want them ruined.
* * *
“What’s
the matter Brodie? Can’t take it when a man stands up to your bullshit?” Rick
taunted, punching Chuck Brodie, goon for the Stars, in the face a third time.
Brodie
was exhausted and couldn’t get a good jab in. So, he gripped Ricochet’s jersey
and tried to dodge another hit before the linesmen pulled them apart.