Page 4 of Resurrecting the Witch
Yes, this was a better plan than the prospect of getting laid for the first time in—well, longer than I wanted to admit.
“Cliona?” A deep voice sounded from the body I had run into who still gripped my upper arms in a firm, but not overly aggressive way, like he was stabilizing me.
“Of fucking course,” I said before thinking better of it and shook my head. “You must be Patrick.”
I sighed and finally lifted my probably obvious-on-the-verge-of-tears eyes to see the mystery date I was about to walk out on. My breath caught as I took in the heavily muscled man that looked only slightly older than me. His blue eyes contrasted starkly against his skin that almost looked concerningly pale and tinged with purple in some areas. His black hair was tied back in a sexy man bun that made me swallow, and my thighs clench in an involuntary response. Good great and holy goddess… Patrick washot. I didn’t care what anyone had to say about a man bun. It was sexy as fuck. If Jason Momoa rocked it, then it worked. And Patrick definitely made his work. I brazenly took in the rest of him, which required an obnoxiously long up-and-down motion because he was at least a foot taller than me, and I was five-seven in the two-inch heels I wore. When I made my way back to his face, his thick black eyebrows quirked up, and he smirked in a way that let me know he knew I was checking him out and didn’t care one bit; he probably even appreciated my admiration.
“Feck me, woman, I haven’t had the best luck in the new world, but even for me, this is a new record if my date is running away before we even have a bite of an appetizer? Don’t wound my pride and say you were already running from me,mo grá?”
A challenge sparked in Patrick’s eyes, and he had to see the recognition in my own at him calling me his love before he wiped a traitorous tear off my cheek with the back of his fingers. His skin touching mine in the brief moment had me sway at the relief. As soon as his hand left my cheek, the power bloomed anew under my skin, but it felt more manageable. Like somehow, Patrick had kept it at bay, if only for a moment.
What had he done to me?
“Tell me who needs a beating in this restaurant for making you cry, woman? I only want your tears when my—” he cut himself off before he said something that, based on the deep chuckle, would have been less than appropriate for a stranger. “I’m already feckin’ this shite up. All I’m trying to say is that I haven’t even given you anything to cry about yet.” His swoon-worthy Irish accent had my romance reader fan girl heart beating wildly in my chest. “Cliona? Are you going to answer me,mo peata?”
“Pet?” I couldn’t help my lips twitch in disgust. Who was this man to call me his pet? “My name is Cliona.”
I may have overly annunciated my name in warning before he called me his fucking pet again. Even if part of me wanted to say he could call me whatever he wanted if he kept looking at me like I was something he could order off the menu.
“I had an incident with a water glass that was telling enough of how tonight would go for me, so yes, I was running. Merrick was obviously aware of my lack of ability to be on a date even though he’s a sweet kid despite him calling me fucking ma’am like I’m my fucking gran. I want to go home and eat frosting straight out of the container and snuggle with my cat and watch some trash television, probablyReal Housewives,because honestly, it is so good, and people are dumb if they don’t see the beauty of it. Then I can pretend this night never happened. Hopefully Lennox will join me so I’m not a complete loser.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth and instantly regretted every word I’d said. I might have had an occasional episode of word vomit, but I knew how to not divulge every detail of my life. Especially my frosting habit.
He did that to me. Was it his hotness? Or maybe the accent? I had been surrounded by Irish accents my whole life, but Patrick’s did something different to me. He also wasn’t family, so that was most likely the reason. Patrick saw the effect he had on me in my eyes because he had the nerve to lift the corner of his mouth in another smirk as if he bested me without me even being aware of our sparring.
“Come,my pet,” he said, this time in over enunciated English to make it clear he would call me whatever he wanted.
I should have been repulsed.Why was I smiling?
“Share a meal with me. This dating app seemed to think we were a good match for one another, and I think I can see why already.”
He didn’t so muchaskme to join him as hetoldme what he expected to happen. And then, as if he needed to add more confusion to my body, he leaned forward so his lips grazed my ear and his cheek lightly touched my own. I couldn’t help the traitorous reaction of my breath hitching at the feeling of him leaning over me. Patrick had this presence about him that already told me I would obey him no matter what.
His breath was hot against my skin as he whispered, “I guarantee I will be more than an adequate replacement for a night with your tabby and the housewives. The frosting, on the other hand, I’m willing to share with you after our meal if you let me. The others, well, I’m sure they’ll be right there waiting for you when we’re done getting to know each other.”
His free hand grazed down my back. My mind emptied of any previously anxious spiraling thought; I practically melted at his touch.
Wait. This stranger was touching me, and I wasn’t repulsed? Instead, I felt a bit relaxed.
“Holy shit, Cliona. If you don’t want to have dinner with him, I sure as fuck will.”
“Gioia!” I scrambled away from Patrick as best I could, but he held me close to him.
“What?” I watch her eye Patrick up and down and bite her lip seductively.
“I’m so telling Drew you tried to pick up my date,” I told her. It was perfect watching her blanch, and I laughed hysterically.
“Drew?” Patrick looked at Gioia and then continued. “Are you a Hemlock pup?”
“I’m not a pup! Ugh!” Gioia stomped away.
“Sorry about her,” I muttered. “She is going through a bit of a rebellious phase. Wait, do you know Drew?”
“Aye, I do, Cliona.” Patrick smiled.
My Irish giant of a man stepped back to look into my eyes, searching for an answer to his not-question. I gave a slight nod in a commitment to see this dinner through.
“Good choice,mo grá.”
