Forever Mine (An Ireland Forever Short Story) Read online

  Forever Mine

  An Ireland Forever Short Story

  Laney Powell

  Copyright © 2019 by Laney Powell

  Spar Island #6

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  Jyn

  I looked around the club. This wasn’t fun anymore, but boring. Claude, my date, leaned over and shouted in my ear, “Hey, babe. Having fun?”

  “No,” I said, not looking at him.

  “Why not?”

  “I think I’m going to go home,” I said. I stood up.

  Claude put a hand on my arm. “Now? Babe, it’s so early. We have a long way to go tonight,” he added with a leer.

  Last week, I’d thought that was cute. Now it wasn’t. I smiled. I didn’t end things with guys on bad terms. I just didn’t. There was no need to be an ass. “I’m really tired. You stay. I’ll grab a car.”

  His frown smoothed over. Claude was a partier, and while I wasn’t staying with him, as long as I wasn’t stopping his party, he’d be fine.

  Just my kind of guy. All fun. No strings. Not ever. Maybe one day but that day sure wasn’t now.

  “OK. I’ll call you in the morning,” he said, pulling me down for a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe late morning.”

  “That’s totally good with me,” I flashed another brilliant smile and walked away from the couch where we were sitting. As I headed toward the door, several guys made eye contact. There was an invitation in their gazes. I kept a smile on my face and offered nothing.

  Bernard, the bartender, gave me the chin nod. I returned it, albeit a smaller motion.

  The doorman opened the door, and I spilled out into the night, the noise level instantly lower. Pulling out my phone, I arranged for a car, and waited.

  I wasn’t sure what happened. Claude had been lots of fun, and he wasn’t interested in any strings, either. What had happened?

  I looked at my phone again. Another text from Nat.

  Last month, I’d rescued her from some guy who stood her up, and then this month, they’re a thing. She’s deliriously happy. She told me all about it, and I had to admit, he didn’t sound as bad as his first impression.

  Another one bites the dust.

  All my Spar Island girls were getting some sort of hitched. Dating, engaged, seriously involved—and I was none of the above.

  Was that what was biting my ass? I shook my head as the car driver pulled up and stared out the window all the way home.

  The next morning, I got up and took care of my deadlines. As the social editor for my local paper here in Chicago, it was my responsibility to let the good citizens of my city know what was new, happening, and hopping. The club last night, The Frisco, was fairly new, and I’d been excited to go. The club itself had been fine. The problem was me. But that wouldn’t get in the way of my review. The DJ was good, the snacks above average for a night club, and the drinks and bottle service were perfect. I finished my piece and sent it to my editor.

  Whatever anyone could say about me, I got my work done. Always. I might party my face off, and skid in ten minutes before something was due, but I turned in my work on time. Until now that had been enough.

  Not to mention I went to law school during the day.

  What was it? The Spar Island girls. So many of them were pairing off. We’d known each other since we were kids. Even then, I was the wild one. Our parents were friends and used to take us all out on their boats. We’d go out to these little islands—the Spar Islands—in Mt. Hope Bay, and take grills, and coolers, and all kinds of food, and spend the entire day fooling around, eating, talking and playing in the water.

  As we got older, we took the boats out without our parents, and hung out on lazy, hot summer days. They were some of the best days of my life. I loved all the Spar Island girls. There were tons of us by the time I graduated. Everyone had a friend, or cousin, or little sister, or whatever. That’s what I loved the most—it didn’t matter who you were. Once you hung with us that was it.

  Which is what made this so hard. We’d all gone our separate ways, because Bristol, Rhode Island was not the most happening place, but we all kept in touch. And now there were new people coming in—men. Men changed the dynamic of everything.

  With my work finished, I checked in on all my social media sites, and then to my email. I forced myself to be disciplined about social media because I could fall down that rabbit hole and get lost all day. Social media was fun—which is why work had to come first. My homework was also done, although I had to admit I was ready for spring break.

  Janie Locke had sent me an email. Oooh. This could be good. Really good.

  Casey, one of our Spar Island girls, was in a sorority at Oak Ridge University. One of her alumnae was a big name promoter of an Irish band, Blackthorn, and her guys had just hit it big. Her name was Janie Locke, and I’d met her when she came home with Casey for part of the summer.

  Janie and I hit it off, and so even though she was originally a friend of a friend, we chatted regularly online. Her band was throwing a big shindig at a castle in Dublin, and she was sending me a personal invite.

  Yes, please. Not that I wanted to try to hook up with a guy in a band. Not me. I covered bands in my work for the paper, and they were the one group of men I stayed away from. It was an ironclad rule for me.

  But I’d interview them. I emailed Janie to see if she’d set up an interview with them for me. Nothing huge, just a chance to take a few pics and add some personal stuff to the piece.

  Checking the dates, I knew I’d need to clear this with my editor. But Janie was offering to fly me over, and put me up, so if I agreed to do a story, with some live updates at the show, and from around Dublin and the castle, I would bet he’d let me go.

  This was exactly what I needed. I began composing my email immediately to my boss. The sooner the better.

  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so glum. Just what the doctor ordered.

  Declan

  “No, no, man. That’s not it,” Sean, our lead singer stopped our rehearsal. He came to me and showed me what he was after. Normally, I’d send someone to hospital if they touched my baby, my keyboard, but he was good, and he knew what he was doing.

  I played it back for him.

  “Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned and shoved his hair out of his eyes.

  I had to grin back. When Sean smiled, it was like the whole world turned on the lights. It was part of why we were where we were. He was the best front man I’d seen in a long time.

  “OK, let’s do it from the top,” he smiled at the rest of the band.

  The remainder of the rehearsal went great. Sean called it a night, and Liam came over to me. “You going out tonight?”

  “Nah, man, I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

  “What, are you getting old?” Liam laughed.

  “Maybe, but not too old to kick your ass,” I said, laughing with him.

  “Well, get some rest, old man,” he teased. “In three days, this castle will be crawling with fine young things who can’t wait to get to know Blackthorn, even you!”

  I laughed with him again, and Sean, Seamus, Liam, and Fergus decided where they were headed for the evening. I took one of the cars and drove back to the room Janie, our promoter, had booked for me in Castle Glenkerry. It was fantastic to be able to stay in the castle, and it was quiet at night.

  The la
st year had been a whirlwind, and as it was about to get even more insane, I liked having the quiet time. Janie had booked us here for a week before the show, so we could get used to the arena and get all our gear set up just so. This was a huge event not only for us, but her as well. She wanted everything to be perfect, and since she’d been pushing us from the moment we scraped our money together to hire her—we let her.

  She’d been right all along. Not to mention, she worked well with our manager. We’d just signed a huge deal, and two of our songs were in the top one hundred in the United Kingdom. It might get better, but now, I couldn’t see how.

  The thought of all the women who would be descending upon us was a tad intimidating. I’d had more panties thrown on stage at me than I’d ever seen in my life. Sean had it worse—and I wouldn’t trade places with him for ten record deals. I was a small-town guy. Panty tossing wasn’t my gig.

  At least, not in public.

  In private, that was another thing altogether. The problem was, too often the private became public. My last girlfriend, Aislan, had agreed to an interview just as we were coming up the charts and starting to get some traction. She’d hinted that we had “adventuresome” sex.

  Of all the things she could have said, she had to say that? Not that it hurt my standing with panty-tossers, but it wasn’t the message I wanted out there. She and I had fought about the interview, and she got pissed when I told her that she was just an in for that reporter. She’d screamed that it wasn’t all about me, and I was an arrogant tosser, blah blah blah.

  It had all ended with us breaking up, although I’d gotten a couple of calls from her since. Most recently, when our event was announced. Aislan wanted an invitation, but I wasn’t inclined to oblige her. I didn’t need any more drama.

  While all my band mates were enjoying the fame, and the things fame brought, I found it uncomfortable. I’d always been private, and I was in a band because I loved the music, loved being part of it.

  Not, however, that it wouldn’t be nice to have someone to share this with.

  But not if it meant I had to put up with bullshit. I didn’t have the patience for that anymore.

  As I headed up to my room, I thought about how long it had been since I’d had sex.

  Too long. Too long by half. I shucked my clothes and turned on the shower. It was one of those posh showers with all sorts of nozzles. The bathroom steamed as I stepped into the glass enclosure.

  Sex would be nice, really fucking nice. As I soaped myself, I felt my cock get hard as I thought about how nice. Before I knew it, my cock was in my hand, and I was stroking my shaft, enjoying the slippery feel of the soap.

  She would be tall, but not too tall. I could see her behind my closed eyes.

  Long hair, arms stretched over her head as she shared the shower with me, her skin glistening in the water. The outline of her body in sharp contrast to the steam all around her. As she bent over to wash her leg, I move in, and nestle between her legs, my cock eager for her. She braces her hands against the wall as I slide into her, the warmth of the shower around us feeling cool in comparison to how warm her pussy feels.

  I thrust myself all the way into her, and her gasp echoes around us. It’s all the invitation I need. I pound into her, and reality and fantasy slam together as I grasp my cock in my hand, moving up and down faster and faster as the woman in my head writhes on my cock.

  Opening my eyes, I breathe heavily, the image of the woman in my head still clear. That’s the kind of woman I want. One who loves sex like I do, who loves the richness of our lives together, and doesn’t need to share it with the world.

  One who is mine. Who wants nothing more than that.

  I’m not sure she exists.

  Jyn

  My editor, as expected, is delighted that I’ve scored a free trip to go and report on something this big. It’s bigger than my club reports by far. And because it’s still winter, I don’t need to unpick anything else. I teach sailing in the warmer months into the fall on Lake Superior, and support myself during the winter by clubbing like a mad person. This has come at the perfect time. I also arrange to take some time off class, and then email Janie back, letting her know that not only will I be there but I’m delighted to be asked. Her response is quick.

  Hey, girl!

  I’m so glad you’re coming. I told the band I wanted to invite some of my friends, you know, to celebrate my hard work, and they were all good with it, but I’m finding that it’s going to be a madhouse, so we may not get to see much of each other. But I’m excited to see you at some point! I’ll set up an interview for you the day after the show—it’s going to be too crazy before that.

  XOXO,

  Janie

  Perfect. So she won’t expect me to be up her ass, and I can do my own thing. She sent along the contact info for her assistant so that I can start making arrangements, and I email him immediately. I want to bracket this with a day or two on each side from the official celebrations.

  The assistant, an on-the-ball guy named Oliver, emails me within minutes. He arranges a flight and tells me I have scored a room in the castle where the VIPs are staying. He gets me a ride from the airport, reserves a car for me to be brought to the castle, called Castle Glenkerry, and a ride to and from the concert at the Dublin Arena. Holy shit. Janie has hit the jackpot with these guys. This is beyond first class. He also books me for two days before, and three days after, the concert.

  This would be a real vacation, and unlike the small weekend getaways I’d been on with guys over the last year, this would be on my schedule. It was time when I was beholden to no one. Janie hadn’t said she expected a good review, or anything at all.

  Fantastic.

  I looked up the weather in Dublin and then went to my closet to figure out what I was going to take with me. I needed to look fabulous. All the guys in the band were hot. At least, that was what my brief look on Google showed me. I couldn’t remember their names, but that was all right. I’d figure it out before the interview. I tried not to look for too much about people I was going to interview. I liked to let them show me who they were during. Too much info painted a picture.

  But back to the men. The band was hot. The opening act was hot. There would be random hot Irish guys. After my reaction to Claude, it was time for a new guy. And a guy in Ireland would be safe, no strings attached, and fun.

  Exactly what I needed.

  After perusing my closet, I determined that some shopping was in order. I set out, hitting up a couple of boutiques where I was friendly with the owners. They set me up with some amazing dresses for going out. As I got home later that day, lugging my bags, I felt the mood that had hit me last night completely dissipate. I couldn’t wait.

  Two weeks later, I boarded an Aer Lingus flight, and found that I was in first class. I didn’t expect that, but I sent Janie all the good vibes as I settled into my seat. I closed my eyes, and after takeoff, I fell asleep. I didn’t wake until we were circling Dublin.

  I looked out the window, and was struck by how much green I could see, even over the city. I felt my excitement rise.

  Oliver was clearly a master of all things travel, because there was someone waiting for me with my name on a placard, and before I knew it, me and my luggage were whisked away almost before I knew it was happening. The countryside was lush and green and as we pulled up to the castle, I peered out the window.

  It was gorgeous. Light stone, and old and imposing looking, sitting in the middle of beautiful grounds and gardens. The car stopped in the drive, and one of the footmen opened the car door as another took my luggage out of the trunk.

  “Good afternoon, miss. Welcome to Castle Glenkerry,” he said in a rich baritone voice. “Might I have your name?”

  “Jyn Lyle. Jynger Lyle,” I amended.

  “Very good, Miss Lyle. We’re expecting you,” He nodded, and turned.

  I followed him into the wide doorway, trying not to stare. I’d been around, I’d seen a lot, but this w
as really lovely.

  The picture was broken as a group of young women—girls, really—came giggling through the lobby area. This must be where the band was staying. I looked away, not wanting to roll my eyes right in front of them.

  “Let me guess. The band is staying here?” I asked the doorman.

  He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “We don’t discuss our guests. But it seems the young ladies have heard from another source that perhaps our guests might be of interest.”

  I laughed. “That was very diplomatic. What’s your name?”

  “Rufus, miss.”

  “Thank you for not abandoning me in the middle of the lobby, Rufus,” I said.

  “My pleasure, miss. It’s right this way.”

  Janie did things right. I needed to send her a fabulous bottle of champagne immediately. She’d called this a hotel, but it was like no hotel I’d been in. Rufus led me up a grand staircase and then off to the right. He stopped in front of a pair of double doors. “This is your room, Miss Lyle. Miss Locke wishes you a wonderful stay. Let us know what we can do to ensure that,” He opened the doors to let me into the room.

  It was light, airy, and huge. It was essentially two rooms, with a sitting room and then the bedroom off to the left.

  “Your itinerary is on the desk, miss,” Rufus added. “Ring the bell if you need anything.”

  I nodded, and he left, closing the doors quietly behind him.

  There was a basket on the desk with what looked like wine and other goodies. A note was perched on top of several boxes in the basket with my name on it.

  Hello Darling!

  Welcome to Dublin! I hope you have the BEST time! Hope to catch up, but I’m busy as balls, so if we don’t, know that I love you! Enjoy the castle, and the show!

  XX,

  Janie

  Besides a bottle of wine, there are chocolate covered strawberries and two glasses. I smiled. She was being optimistic. But you never knew. Hot Irish guys, right? At least, that was the supposition I was going with. Not the band, though, I thought, recalling the pack of gigglers in the lobby. Never the band.