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  Liam heard a commotion in the background before the sound muffled, as if she’d covered the phone. Then, she cursed. “I’m sorry, Liam.” She cursed again. “I’m okay, I promise, but I need to call you back.”

  “You sure?” Haven had never lied to him before, and he had no reason to believe she’d start now. Still, he worried. “Shouldn’t the pub be closed by now?”

  Haven had worked at O’Somachain’s forever—handling the office and kitchen work until she’d turned legal age and took up residence behind the bar. These days, she pretty much singlehandedly ran the place. Much like his own father wished for Liam to do at Tavern J. The idea intrigued him but didn’t necessarily fire his blood. Not like being a SEAL had. Did. Whatever.

  “I’m sure it is. Have fun at McP’s tonight. Gotta run.”

  “Haven.” Her words tickled his instincts. “Wait. What do you mean you’re sure it’s closed? Why don’t you know? Aren’t you there?” She always worked during the week.

  Haven hesitated, causing warning bells to go off in his brain. “Talk soon,” she finally said, right before she hung up.

  2

  Haven bounced on the balls of her feet. She’d never done anything so impulsive in her life. As she watched the cab drive away, she prayed she hadn’t made a mistake. Not that it mattered. There wasn’t much she could do now that her ride had disappeared.

  Move forward. Not back. This is the adventure you’ve been itchin’ for.

  She drew the salty air into her nose. A giddy, nervous excitement rose within her, rejuvenating her travel-weary body. She preferred the rush of adrenaline over the confusion and anger that had driven her to board the plane in Ireland.

  Haven picked up her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder, squaring her shoulders in the process.

  She wouldn’t think about that now. She had plenty of time to figure out the mess life had presented her. For tonight, there were no ultimatums, no manipulative ex-boyfriends who refused to let go, no life-changing decisions to be made. She hadn’t travelled all this way to wallow. Well, not only to wallow.

  Haven turned in slow circles, drinking in the sights and sounds around her, letting the excitement fuel her back to life.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she’d done it. She’d never been anywhere. Not even to Dublin, until she boarded that train two days ago. And now, she was in California.

  Haven hadn’t left with a plan beyond getting the feck out of Killarney. She’d tossed a few things into a bag, dug her unused credit card and passport out of the kitchen drawer, and headed toward the station.

  The decision to travel across the ocean hadn’t occurred to her until she’d arrived in Dublin. After missing several calls and aggressive texts from her ex, Haven had had the urge to keep going, to get as far away as she could. When faced with the decision of where she would go from Dublin, there was only one place she could imagine. Only one person she longed to see.

  Liam Jamison was her best friend in the whole world. Other than her parents, to whom she wasn’t speaking at the moment, Liam had been the one constant in her life. They didn’t speak every day. Sometimes, they didn’t speak for months. But their friendship existed outside of the realm of space and time. No matter how long they went between contact or what happened in their respective lives, they were always there for each other. Nothing could break the bond they shared. That pure, resolute knowledge gave Haven a sense of peace she couldn’t explain.

  Haven tipped her face toward the miniature lighthouse that topped the building in front of her. Her gaze slid down to the sign resting against the roof. McP’s was boldly scrawled across the green painted metal or wood—she couldn’t tell which—in an archaic white script. She loved everything about the place. From the white brick and the green accented flower box hanging from the large front windows to the Irish and American flags hanging from the upper corners of the McP’s sign.

  What she loved the most of all? That Liam was somewhere within its walls.

  And she couldn’t wait another second to see him.

  Liam checked his phone for the hundredth time in the last two hours. With it being the middle of the night in Ireland, he understood why Haven hadn’t called back yet, but damn. Way to leave a guy hanging.

  “Yo, Lucky. You’re up,” Cole “Joker” Landry yelled. “Get your ass over here and prepare to lose.”

  Liam shoved his phone back into his pocket, determined to leave it there for the rest of the night. He had no reason to worry. Haven was fine. She’d promised as much. She’d said they would talk soon.

  “Ha,” Liam barked. “In your dreams, motherfucker.”

  Damn right, they would talk soon because if she hadn’t called him by morning, Irish time, he’d damn sure be calling her.

  Liam sighed. Which meant there was fuck-all he could do about Haven tonight. He needed to let it go. In fact, he needed to let all his shit go and trust that things would work out.

  If it were only that easy.

  “I got twenty bucks says Lucky’s gonna make you eat those words, Joker,” Chris “Zig” Bykowski boasted.

  “Easy money.” Joker laughed and pointed toward the chalkboard where their running scores were tallied. “You see my numbers? I’m hot tonight.”

  Zig rolled his eyes. “You in, Pops?”

  Benjamin “Pops” Popovich shook his head. “Sucker bet. With that fucking magic mojo Lucky has, everyone knows he won’t lose.”

  “I think you mean skill.” Liam picked up his beer from the table and tipped the bottle to his mouth, practically draining it down his throat. He snatched his darts from the table and turned toward the board. “Which I acquired from a lifetime of practice,” he snapped. “No luck needed.”

  Damn. Even to his own ears that sounded harsh. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t the guy who snapped at his friends. Or anyone, for that matter. He needed to chill the fuck out.

  Liam wouldn’t deny some things came easy for him. He’d been born with good genetics, a natural athletic ability, and a well-above-average IQ. He couldn’t take credit for any of those things, but he tried not to take them for granted. If anything, Liam worked harder so he would feel like he’d earned the things he had, like the right to say he consistently beat the pants off these fuckers at darts.

  He sailed a dart through the air with more force than necessary. He missed the bullseye, but not by much.

  “Everything all right, man?” Brian “Heartbreaker” Anderson joined him at the line and clapped him on the shoulder.

  Liam didn’t even try to front. Brian knew him better than any of the guys on the team. He’d spot Liam’s bullshit from a mile away.

  “No.” Brian’s brows went up, clearly not expecting that answer. Liam blew out a breath and moved the next dart from his left hand to his right. So much for chilling the fuck out. Maybe he should switch to something stronger than bottled beer. “I don’t know.” Now, he just felt stupid. “I’m sure it’s fine. I just got a strange call from Haven earlier.”

  “The Irish girlfriend.”

  “Shut up.” The guys had given Haven the moniker years ago. Around the same time, Liam had grown tired of correcting their misconceptions about his friendship, so the title kinda stuck.

  “Well? Is she okay?”

  “She says she is.”

  Brian looked confused. Join the club, brother. “Then what’s the problem?”

  Liam shook his head. Brian was right. He was making too much out of nothing. He’d obviously fixated on one innocent little comment Haven had made as a way to avoid his own shit for a while. So what if Haven took a weeknight off from the pub? It wasn’t as though she hadn’t done it before. He was being ridiculous. “I suppose there isn’t one.”

  “Hey,” Joker called. “Are you having a private hen party, or can anyone join?”

  Liam flipped Joker off, elbowed Brian out of the way, and threw the dart.

  Bullseye.

  Just to be ornery, Liam quickly threw his last dart. Wel
l, looky there. Tucked all nice and snug against the last one. He smirked at his opponent. “That’s the win.”

  Liam felt better already.

  Brian chuckled as Zig and Pops erupted from their chairs, whooping and high-fiving across the table.

  Joker laughed good-naturedly and reached for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty and slapped it on the table in front of Zig. “Let’s go again.” Another twenty hit the table.

  Liam couldn’t help but laugh. He’d spent enough time with these guys that he was sure they could all sense his less than stellar mood. Leave it to Joker to try to lighten the load, if only for a couple of hours.

  God, he’d miss this. Blowing off steam with his teammates, being an integral part of a complex unit of men who knew him, who had his back.

  “I’ll gladly beat your ass all night, but put your damn money away before we draw attention,” Liam demanded, a genuine grin—his first of the night—pulling his lips tight. SEAL’s were competitive by nature. McP’s had a decent crowd going for a weeknight. Because his nights out with the guys would soon be a thing of the past, Liam would rather not spend the evening cycling through a line of inflated egos eager to be the first to beat him.

  Liam took a step toward the board in order to collect his darts when Brian stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You good?”

  “Nothing a whiskey wouldn’t cure.” He followed his words with his trademark grin, letting Brian know that while he might not be great in this moment, overall, he’d be fine.

  “I’m pretty sure Ray’ll hook you up. I’m headed to the bar for another beer anyway. I’ll grab you a shot while you hand Joker his ass. Again.”

  The shot of whiskey went a long way to smooth Liam’s jagged nerves. By the third game, he’d even loosened up enough to share some flirty glances with a cute blonde who’d been undressing him with her eyes for the last thirty minutes. Once he wrapped up the game, he planned to invite her to use her hands instead.

  Right. Focus.

  Just as he set thoughts of the woman aside and adjusted his stance, Joker whistled, long and low, behind him.

  “Whoa. Guys,” Joker said, his voice weirdly breathy and awe-struck. “Check out the hot little redhead by the door.”

  Liam ignored him. He knew better than to fall for that shit. He was one dart throw away from another win and his victory lap around the blonde’s curves.

  Liam rolled the dart between his fingers and focused on his mark. He would not be distracted.

  “Whoa is right,” Pops agreed. “Damn. I haven’t seen her around here before. Anyone know who she is?”

  “No,” Joker said. “But I’m about to know her. I’m about to know her real well.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Liam dropped his arm and turned. “You know I’m going to win, so you might as well give up trying to distract…” Liam’s brain short-circuited when his gaze landed on the woman in question.

  Reddish-brown hair fell over shoulders bared by a tight, black tank. From where Liam stood, her pale skin appeared flawless, almost luminescent under the bar lights. Add to that her petite frame and delicate facial features…the woman looked like a bona fide angel.

  Or a fucking pixie.

  Liam’s heart kicked like he had a mule locked inside his ribcage. He blinked once. Twice. Huh. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the woman staring back at him was Haven.

  Liam frowned. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him, because Haven wouldn’t come all the way to California without letting him know ahead of time.

  “See, man? I told you. Hot.” Joker surged to his feet and smoothed a hand down his shirt. “Oh, hell yeah. She’s coming this way.”

  Haven’s doppelgänger made her way through the crowd with ease, the gentle sway of her hips downright criminal.

  Christ. The woman might look like an angel, but her body had been sculpted by the devil himself. Small, perfect breasts. Curves a man could spend days, weeks, fucking months exploring.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind where his dick had no jurisdiction, Liam knew he shouldn’t be wondering if her skin felt and tasted as pure as it looked. The woman wasn’t Haven—couldn’t be—but the resemblance to his friend made the stirring in Liam’s jeans all kinds of wrong.

  Unless he wanted their next video chat to be super awkward, he needed to stop the train his thoughts were on and re-focus on the game he was about to win.

  Liam turned to do just that when pseudo-Haven caught his gaze. She stopped, a soft smile slowly gracing her lips.

  Recognition hit him like a fucking Mack truck. While his brain fought to reconcile the message his eyes were sending, one thing was for damn certain. Liam knew that smile.

  All of a sudden, he had so many questions.

  “Dibs.” Joker proclaimed softly. “Fucking dibs on dibs on dibs.”

  Liam moved fast, smacking Joker squarely in the chest with his palm, stopping the guy in his tracks. “Not on your life buddy. This one’s mine.”

  “What the hell, man?”

  Liam’s feet were already in motion, leaving Joker and his protests behind.

  Those eyes…fuck. The woman was Haven. Haven was actually at McP’s.

  And Liam had imagined her naked.

  3

  “Haven?”

  Her feet stalled. Haven’s heartbeat took off like a racehorse out of the starting gate as the man attached to that familiar baritone stalked toward her.

  Liam. Her breath caught, causing his name to get lost in her throat. She instinctively took a step back and pressed her fingers over her mouth. Holy shite. No video chat in the world could’ve prepared her for his ridiculously tall height and the abundance of muscles straining his T-shirt. Her Irish Catholic side sent up a quick prayer for the seams of that poor garment, while the sinner in her entertained thoughts a girl should not have about her best friend no matter how…massive said best friend had gotten.

  Liam’s head cocked the slightest bit to the side, as if still uncertain of her identity. His gaze roamed her face, then took a detour down and back up her body, slow enough to make her question the motives of Liam’s own inner devil.

  “Aye, Liam. It’s me.”

  Liam’s gaze snapped back to hers. “It’s you.” He stopped a few feet from her, his lips curving into a wicked, dimpled smile. He ducked his head. He ran his fingers through the mess of red-blond hair as his eyes, as green as the Irish countryside, peered up through his lashes. “Fuck me, it’s really you.” He started toward her again, faster this time. “Get your ass over here, pixie.”

  Bursting with happiness, Haven launched herself across the void that separated them, dropping her bag at the last second. He bent down as she jumped, catching her as she locked her arms around his thick neck. Without thinking, she hooked her ankles around his hips and held on tight.

  Liam grunted, one arm cinching around her waist while his other arm hovered nearby, as if he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “My God,” she said against his neck. He felt warm and solid and real. No longer just a face on a screen. “You’re so huge!”

  “That’s what the ladies say.” Liam deep chuckle rumbled through her. “And you’re no bigger than a mite.”

  Ramrod straight, Haven topped out at five-four and a half. Not necessarily mite-sized, but everyone must seem small next to him. Judging by the distance to the floor, he had at least a foot on her.

  Haven pulled back and cupped Liam’s cheeks between her hands. She studied his face, absorbing the details no phone or computer screen could capture. The tiny laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. The subtle shadows under his eyes. The small scar above his upper lip. The scratchy feel of his scruff against her palms.

  Haven had convinced herself she’d never see Liam again. They’d dreamed big those first couple of years—talked about annual visits and such. The more time that passed, the less they discussed the possibility. And then it was as though they’d both just accepted the distance as a permanent part of the
ir transatlantic friendship.

  There’s no distance, literally none, between you now.

  Being with Liam again overwhelmed her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Flowery sentiment wasn’t her usual style, but she gave him the words floating around in her heart anyway. “I’ve missed you.”

  Liam surprised her when he leaned in and rubbed his nose against hers. The gesture felt playful, yet wildly intimate. Personal. Haven liked it. Maybe too much. “You, too, pix. I still can’t believe you’re here. How long are you staying?”

  “I have a month.”

  His eyes widened. “Wow, really? That’s fantastic. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  She dropped her hands to dangle over his shoulders. “I wanted to surprise you. I almost blew it when I rang you from the plane.”

  “I knew something was off about that conversation.” He took her waist and lifted her, setting her back on her feet. “I couldn’t put my finger on what.”

  “I had to figure out where you’d be when I arrived, so I’d know where to go.” The sudden change in altitude made her a wee dizzy. She clutched at the front of Liam’s T-shirt and glanced around the bar to orient herself. People were staring. She couldn’t blame them. Her best friend was a stunner, truly a sight to behold. “You’re not angry, are you?”

  That was a possibility she hadn’t considered.

  “Hell no, I’m not angry. I wish you’d given me a heads-up, though. I would’ve picked you up from the airport.” He spun on his heel and dropped an arm across her shoulders, hugging her against his side. “That said, I’m happy you’re here. Surprised, so well done you, but really fucking happy.”

  Haven sighed. She didn’t want to get into this now. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I was comin’. Didn’t know myself until the last minute.”

  One brow rose. “I’m going to need that story later.”