well.
And me? This story will win me the recognition I so desperately want. Opportunities knocking and doors opening. My reporting on little Christiana’s life getting the attention in needs. My success will allow me to pay tribute by keeping her memory alive.
I smile, feeling more hopeful now than I’ve felt in ages.
Due, in part, to the man eating his breakfast in the seat across from me. God help me, but even with a mouthful of eggs, he’s beautiful. My pulse speeds up and I find myself hungry for more than breakfast. I can’t get enough of him.
“Something you want to say?” He doesn’t even look up from his plate. Does he know? Has that wicked sixth sense of his raised the alarm on how my feelings have changed? I love him. Yes. I do.
“You’re a beautiful man, Finn McDuff.”
Instead of smiling, he scowls. “I’m not.”
“So humble.”
“Being honest. There are things about me you don’t know.”
“Enlighten me. For starters, where were you born?”
“The north.”
I sigh. “Can you be more specific?”
“Can’t a bloke eat his breakfast without being harassed by a sassy reporter?”
“Fine,” I say, sipping my coffee and wondering what’s put a burr under his saddle.
“Derry,” he answers out of nowhere.
“Do you go back and visit?”
“No point. My brother Jimmy died young. My parents are long dead and buried.”
“And friends?”
“Don’t have any.”
I snort. “Now that I find hard to believe.” I take another sip of coffee then tackle a harder topic. “Why did you have me ask the tortilla woman for the daily special?”
He stops midchew, a look of disbelief crossing his expression. “You still on about that?”
“Worried your boss would raise hell if he discovered I approached you?”
“Raise hell is putting it lightly.”
I must make a weird face as I consider what I’m not telling him because his eyes narrow on me like he can smell my lie. Before he can ask, I steer our conversation away from that discussion. “You jerked off onto my stomach after calling me a cab. Not very gentlemanly of you.”
“Can we talk about Derry some more?”
I lean in. “But we’re a far cry from Antonio, aren’t we? You played me. I mean, how did I ever fall for you being that horrible a lover?”
“I’m a brilliant liar.” He chews a piece of ham then swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does so. Watching him eat shouldn’t be such a turn on. “Truth is you shouldn’t believe half the malarkey that comes out of me mouth.”
That gives me pause. “You said I could trust you.”
“You can trust me to do what’s right for you. There’s a difference.”
I sit up in my chair, alarmed. “What are you trying to communicate here, Finn? What big lie are you alluding to?”
He sets his knife and fork onto the side of his plate. Looking away. Stalling. My heart sinks.
“I wanted to send you away with a wee bit of hope is all.”
“What?”
“The woman at the tortilla stand. I was going to disappoint you, so I fed you the lie to give you a wee bit of hope.”
“That’s just twisted. I was almost arrested.”
“What was the first thing you did after you left me?”
“I washed your come off my stomach.”
His jaw drops and a laugh escapes my lips.
“Cursed you to Ireland and back.” I pause in consideration. “Then booked a bus ride to Acapulco so I could speak with the woman at the tortilla stand.”
“Still, you were hopeful.”
I roll my eyes. “I was stupid.”
“No. You are intelligent and brave and everything a man could want in a woman.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Thing is, I’m a man who doles out disappointments like they’re carnival prizes.”
I wait for him to elaborate. But he picks up his fork and resumes eating, as if we’d been talking about the weather, as if our conversation hadn’t seeded any doubts about whether or not I can trust him. But I’m in like Finn now. Too late to second guess things.
“Okay.”
He stops eating. “Okay?”
“I’ll let it drop.”
“Thank you.”
“But I have another question for you.”
He visibly stiffens, bracing himself. Such a showman. “How old are you?”
“How old . . .?” He doesn’t answer immediately, go figure. But after a few seconds, his eyes go wide. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“It’s my birthday.”
“What?” I jump up and move around to his side of the booth. “You didn’t remember your birthday? Finn!” I throw my arms around him and hug him close. “Happy birthday.”
“Easy there. Gonna give the ol’ ticker a heart attack by smothering me with those sweet