Wild Chance (Wilder Irish #13) - Mari Carr Page 0,27

fucked this all up,” he confessed.

“What the hell is going on over there?” Uncle Aaron asked, walking up to join them while pointing out Emmy and Joe in the booth together.

This time, Padraig couldn’t hold back. He laughed and shook his head. “We’re all discussing my stupidity. Join the party.”

Emmy glanced over at the group of men staring at her—none of whom even attempted to play it cool by turning away. Though their faces were turned away from him, Padraig was fairly certain they were presenting a united front in scowling overprotectiveness.

She caught Padraig’s eye and raised her eyebrow. “Told you so,” she mouthed before turning her attention back to Joe, who was also aware that the two of them had captured attention. She leaned in, saying something that had him laughing loudly.

Pop Pop turned back around and stared him down. “So, my boy, how are you going to fix this?”

That was the ten-million-dollar question, wasn’t it?

Emmy had to admit that as far as dates went, this one with Joe was the best so far, if she didn’t count the practice one with Padraig last weekend. Which she was trying to tell herself she couldn’t count.

The Collins men had proven her right as they’d all converged around the bar, shooting evil glares at Joe, as if to warn him they were watching. When she’d told Joe that’s what they were doing, he was amused and, scoundrel that he was, he’d upped his game, placing his arm around her shoulder, toying with her hair, whispering sexual innuendoes in her ear that had her laughing and blushing in equal measure.

She’d just ordered a third glass of wine, though she’d be smart to leave it untouched. She was feeling warm and fuzzy from the first two glasses and from Joe’s attention.

Okay. That was a lie.

While she was having fun with Joe and was flattered by his flirting, it was Padraig’s constant stare that had her all hot and bothered.

With the wine flowing through her veins, she gave up all pretense of accepting his just friends request. Instead of acknowledging that Padraig’s continual glances were the act of an overprotective friend, she allowed herself to pretend he was actually jealous.

And while she knew she was being stupid, she didn’t care. For one night, it felt good to let herself believe that Padraig could care about, could love her, the way he had Mia.

The stories he’d told her last Sunday about his late wife had done two things: made her admire Mia’s incredible strength and courage, and ensured that she fell even more desperately in love with Padraig.

She glanced toward the stage when Hunter started playing one of her favorite songs. Tonight’s entertainment was being provided by Hunter Maxwell, Aubrey Summers, Teagan Collins, and Sky Mitchell, all members—either by birth or through marriage—of the Collins family. They’d each come to fame through their music, and all of them—with the exception of Aubrey—were still touring regularly.

Aubrey was married to Padraig’s cousin, Fergus, and was currently eight and a half months pregnant with her first child. As such, Fergus was never more than five feet away from her, clearly ready to whisk her away to the hospital at the first twinge of labor pain. Despite her huge belly, she’d pulled a stool onto the stage and sung half a dozen of her most famous songs.

Hunter had now taken over for the next hour or so and then, according to Sunnie—who’d stopped by the table she was sharing with Joe—Teagan and Sky planned to entertain them until closing.

If Hunter, Aubrey, Teagan, and Sky’s names ever appeared on a marquee together, fans across the world would lose their collective minds and pay any amount of money for the concert tickets. Yet, here was Emmy, sitting in an Irish pub, listening to them perform like it was just any regular old Friday night. It was times like these when she wished her mom—the world’s biggest Teagan Collins fan—was still alive.

“Can I ask you something, Emmy?” Joe said after polishing off his second bottle of Peroni.

“Sure.”

“Are you sure you and Padraig are just friends?”

She frowned. “Of course. Why?”

“Because the way he’s been looking at you, watching us, is not the way a man looks at a woman who’s just a friend.”

Emmy glanced back toward the bar and saw…exactly what Joe did. She’d spent the last hour or so trying to convince herself it was her mind playing tricks on her.

But now…

Was Padraig jealous?

“I asked him out on Christmas Eve and he