The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 73

“You do?”
She glanced at me for a second and then back out the window. “When you first saw him, I could just tell. It was like witnessing love at first sight.”
I reached out and squeezed her knee. “It was. I never thought to describe it like that, but that’s exactly what it felt like.”
We shared a weighted look, then I focused on driving. I didn’t move my hand, and instead brushed my thumb back and forth over her knee. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw her shiver.
“Bryan?”
“Yeah?”
“What made you decide to quit drinking?” Her curious eyes rested on my profile. My hand reflexively tightened on the steering wheel, and I blew out a breath.
“Kind of a heavy question for our first date,” I said.
“I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it we can—”
“No, it’s fine. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
She chewed on her lip. “It’s just, you seem so different now than before. I can’t imagine what might’ve spurred you to make such a massive change.”
I turned my head to glance at her, then back to the road. “They were going to fire me.”
Her mouth fell open. “From the team?”
“Yep. I showed up on the day of the Six Nations semi-finals drunk off my arse and unfit to play. Coach told me if I didn’t get on a program and get sober, I could kiss my place on the squad goodbye. Don’t get me wrong, I’d been pushing my luck for a while, and Coach was tired of giving me more and more chances that I just ended up throwing back in his face. It was rock bottom for me, especially since a few days previously I’d discovered my girlfriend stole my credit card and ran up almost 50k in spending.”
“Oh my goodness, did you call the police?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but she’d left the country by then. Probably purchased herself a one-way ticket to Ibiza.”
“That’s so awful,” she exclaimed, looking truly horrified.
“Those are the kinds of people you attract when you’re an addict. Other scumbags.”
She frowned. “You weren’t a scumbag.”
“I appreciate you defending me and all, but I was. Just look at what I did to you.”
I expected her to agree with me, but all I saw in her eyes was empathy. Christ, this woman. She really was too good for me.
“Anyway, I’m not gonna lie. It was hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I fell off the wagon a few times before I eventually found a balance.”
She stared me, genuinely interested. “Yeah?”
“It’s all in the routine for me. I need predictability. The same thing every day. That’s why you saw me get so pissed when my neighbors were throwing that party. They were interrupting my routine.”
I thought she might chuckle at the memory. Hell, even I could admit it was funny. I was a thirty-year-old guy acting like a curmudgeonly old codger. But she didn’t laugh. Instead, she frowned deeply.
“Surely that’s not sustainable though. You need to be able to allow for some spontaneity. You can’t predict what each day is going to bring.”
“Of course not. I know that. I just need my routine and my comforts, that’s all.”
Eilish considered me for a long moment. “You should do something spontaneous today. Something out of character.”
I shot her a perplexed look. “Why?”
“Because, like I said, it’s not healthy to be completely set in your ways. It’s too rigid, and life is way too flexible. You could end up losing your rag and breaking your sobriety.”
I stared at her, deadly serious. “I’ll never drink again, Eilish. I promise you that.”
“And I believe you, but I still think you should try it. Besides, doing new things can be fun.” She paused and reached over to pinch my cheek. “If you act like a serious, cranky old grandad all the time you might just turn into one. Or worse, develop a penchant for hemorrhoid cream,” she teased with a pretty smile.
I couldn’t help it. That smile of hers was way too persuasive. My mouth curved as I replied, “Fine, but you have to do it, too. We can embrace a new experience together.”
She held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”
When we arrived at the marina in Howth, we parked and I led her toward the private docks. She walked ahead of me, and I absolutely checked out the round, heart-shaped curve of her arse. My thoughts were running away from me, picturing her bent forward, legs spread, as I—
“Are we going for seafood?” she asked curiously.
I shook my head, my voice tight as I responded. “Nope. We’re going out on the water.” Jesus, get a hold of yourself and show some respect. Stop fantasizing about her for two fucking seconds.
“Oh. Are there some kind of tourist boats that leave from here?”
I shook my head again and didn’t speak until we stood in front of the Carver C37 Coupe I’d borrowed from a friend. He only used it a few times a year and mostly it stayed at the marina, going to no good use.
“We’re taking this baby out,” I told her and hopped on before reaching for her hand. She took a step back.
“That’s a yacht.” She appeared a little dumbstruck.
“Are you afraid of the water?”
“No. It’s just . . . is this yours?”
“No. Belongs to a friend.”