Wild Irish Dreamer - Tricia O'Malley Page 0,6
thinking it was because he was fascinated with her.
It was only when she met him at his mate’s party the next night that she’d realized how wrong she’d been. Walking in, Fi knew immediately something was off. Somebody flipped the switch on the music, and like a bad teen movie, all eyes had landed on her.
“That’s the psychic!”
“She’s a witch.”
“Maybe she’ll help me cheat on my exam…”
“Does she know what I’d like to do in bed with her?”
“Think she can read me the lotto numbers?”
The whispers hit her like shards of glass in a hurricane, cutting her from every direction, as her eyes sought Brian. Finally, they landed on him, tucked on a sofa next to a curvy blonde, a smirk on his face.
Fi had walked right over to him, hands on her hips, and stared down at him until he had no choice but to meet her eyes.
“What have you done?” Fi demanded, her heart hammering in her chest as the room fell silent once again. Not that it mattered – she could hear people’s thoughts pinging around her head like a manic pinball machine.
“What’s the big deal? I thought it was cool,” Brian said, shrugging a shoulder and looking away.
“This isn’t how you treat people you love,” Fi said, blinking back tears, her voice low with fury. “You don’t do something like this. It’s not right.”
“Ah, what’s the big deal, Fi?” Brian scoffed, glancing back up at her. In that moment, Fi read in his eyes what she should have allowed herself to read from his thoughts all along. The only person Brian loved was Brian.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Fi whispered, and then turned to the room. “This man said he loved me. Is this how a man in love should treat someone?”
“How could I love you after you told me about… that?” Brian waved a hand at her head.
“Yeah. Couldn’t you just read his mind and see how he felt?” His mate, Luke, set the room laughing. Fi drew a shaky breath, willing the panic back. A tear escaped, dripping down her cheek as she stared Brian down.
“Aww, the freak is crying.”
Brian laughed at that, high-fiving his mate, and Fi’s sadness turned to rage. It took everything in her power not to lay Brian’s secrets bare to the room, but she couldn’t resist sharing just one.
“Just like Brian cries after sex.”
The room exploded in laughter. Fi caught Brian’s horrified look before she turned on her heel, running from the house and their laughter with her heart shattered in her chest.
She’d vowed then and there to keep men at a distance. Being vulnerable just wasn’t worth the risk.
The rule had served her well – right up until she’d met Liam. The night she’d lain in his arms, feeling the rightness of him, was still embedded deep in her brain.
Why was Liam on her mind today? Fi wondered as she picked up her paper and her cup and wandered to the kitchen sink. Of all the men she’d been involved with through the years, her time with him had been the shortest. And yet he seemed to have left a lasting impression on her.
“Enough,” Fi said out loud, rinsing her cup and placing it in the drying rack. In the bathroom, she squeezed into the shower, lingering under the miniscule shower head and letting the warm water clear the rest of the cobwebs from her mind. Getting out, Fi studied her face in the mirror. Shadows ringed her large eyes, making her look like she’d had a wild night out instead of a listless night of sleep, and her tangle of hair was already beginning to dry.
A moody face, her mother always said. Her father had called her an indignant pixie.
Either way, Fi’s emotions always rang out across her face, and today she looked wounded. Sighing, she applied some concealer under her eyes, smudged a smoky liner along her lids, and patted a rosy hue on her lips with her fingers. Considering herself ready for the day, Fi pulled on a trim grey jumper and slim black pants, and slid her feet into the soft leather boots the Italians were such geniuses at creating. Tossing a checkered scarf around her neck, she hitched her leather tote over her shoulder and left her flat, clattering down the six flights of stairs to the busy street below. The stairs had put her off at first, but now, after routinely indulging in the delicious food Italy had to offer, Fi