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  Haven gently cupped Molly’s face, her thumbs teasing the fur. “What a brave, beautiful girl you are, Molly. You make me wish I didn’t live so far away.” Haven dropped a kiss onto the top of Molly’s head and straightened. “My Nana used to raise Irish Setters. I had one when I was a girl.”

  “Fergus.” Liam remembered. Losing him had nearly broken Haven, and him, too, because there hadn’t been anything he could do to take her pain away. “He’s why I thought you’d enjoy meeting Miss Molly and her brood. Would you like to hold one of the puppies?”

  Excitement lit up Haven’s entire face. She kicked off her shoes. When she fisted the sides of her dress and yanked, Liam realized her intent. The crazy girl thought she was going to climb into the enclosure wearing that gown? Her legs weren’t long enough to make the attempt any semblance of graceful. She’d either face plant onto the mat or give the men standing around a peepshow. Or both.

  Liam moved fast. “Whoa, there. I said one of the puppies. I didn’t say break your neck scaling the barrier.”

  Haven squeaked as he swung her into his arms. “What are you doing?” The demand was softened by her laughter.

  “Keeping you from flashing the crowd.”

  “Oh. I…” Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t want to stress Molly by takin’ one of her puppies from the pen, so I thought I’d join them instead.”

  “You’re not worried about your dress?”

  She cradled his cheek in her hand, her gaze searching his. “Would you think me ungrateful for your gift if I admitted I wasn’t?”

  “Not at all.” And he meant it. With a flourish, Liam spun, placing Haven inside the barrier with Molly and her puppies.

  With a subtle adjustment to her dress, Haven fell to her knees. Like the swarm of wiggling, licking, auburn-coated bundles of sunshine they were, the puppies engulfed her.

  The pure joy in her laughter soothed something inside him. How could his future be anything but perfect after witnessing the radiance on Haven’s face? A radiance he greedily absorbed when she glanced up.

  She giggled, snuggling one of the puppies against her cheek. “This is the best night of my life.”

  Liam wholeheartedly agreed.

  By the time they made it to the room, Haven was bone weary and on the verge of collapse. Late nights at the pub had not prepared her for jet lag and an evening out with Liam and his friends. She could sleep for a week, but she had no regrets.

  Liam’s teammates were a fun bunch of decent men who obviously cared and looked out for each other. Haven envied the easy camaraderie they shared. She had friends at home, but her obligations at the pub kept her somewhat isolated. It was difficult to have a social life when you worked every night until the wee hours of the morning.

  Haven loved O’Somachain’s. She truly did. But she didn’t want to be alone for the rest of her life.

  Haven knew her dad loved her, but he didn’t understand. Rory Somers worked hard, provided for his family, and believed actions spoke louder than words—because God forbid, they ever talked about feelings.

  Haven had tried to explain why she wasn’t ready to take over the pub. Her dad’s solution was to give her the month off, with the stipulation that she come back prepared to step up so he could retire.

  A month wasn’t long enough to experience life and find the man of her dreams.

  If Haven took over now, that meant even more hours at the pub, which dramatically reduced her chances of meeting someone. As it stood, every guy Haven had dated she’d met while working at the pub. She’d given up trying to find Prince Charming between those walls since none of her relationships had worked out. Take Craig, for instance. Craig was kind, funny, and charming. At least, until Haven figured out what Craig really wanted was the revenue from her bar and a handful of mistresses on the side.

  Haven hadn’t lied to Liam about Craig’s desire to marry her. She’d just been fuzzy on the over her dead body because she’d been feeling ornery over Liam’s big secret.

  Which was something she was too tired to think about tonight.

  Haven kicked off her shoes with a groan as Liam secured the door behind them.

  “You all right?” he asked. He hit the switch for the entryway light, casting a soft glow into the room.

  She flexed her poor, abused toes against the carpet. “I’m not sure my feet will ever be the same.”

  He chuckled, low and deep behind her. He slipped his hand into hers. “Come with me.”

  “Where are we goin’?” Not that it mattered. She was too exhausted to resist.

  He led her over to the desk. He switched on the desk lamp and pulled out the rolling chair, settling it close to the edge of the bed. His warm hands cupped her shoulders. “Have a seat, pix. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  Haven’s knees responded to the gentle pressure he applied to her shoulders, and she sank onto the chair.

  She watched as Liam slipped out of his jacket. His movements were precise and efficient as he tossed the coat aside and went to work on the cuffs of his shirt. He carelessly rolled the material back, exposing a thick, manly-looking watch on one wrist and tanned forearms roped with muscles.

  He sat on the edge of the mattress facing her. It wasn’t until he stretched his arms toward her feet that Haven grasped his intention. She tried to spin away, but he grabbed the arm of the chair.

  “Liam. You don’t—”

  “Shh. Haven, relax. Let me.”

  He scooped her feet into his palms and settled them against his thighs. He eased back the hem of her dress, exposing her ankles. The cool air of the room mixed with Liam’s warm touch sent chill bumps up her legs.

  “I’m guessing you don’t wear heels much?” His thumbs brushed a spot under the ball of her foot then pressed in.

  Haven moaned like a two-bit floozie. “No need for heels behind the bar.”

  “How is business?”

  “Business is good.” Haven let her head fall against the back of the chair. She closed her eyes and let Liam work his magic. His hands felt good on her skin. Big and warm and capable. “We have the big St. Patrick’s Day festival coming up, you know.”

  “That’s right.” Liam’s fingers slowed. “But you’ll still be here. How did you get your dad to let you off on such a busy holiday?”

  “A wee bit of Irish luck,” she joked. In reality, Haven hadn’t given her dad much choice. He’d returned the favor, so Haven figured they were even.

  Haven sat up and eased her feet from Liam’s lap. “I can’t keep my eyes open, Liam. I could let you do that all night, but I’d rather not fall asleep in this chair.”

  “Then we should get you to bed.” His voice sounded husky, and Liam cleared his throat. “You can have the bathroom to change. I’ll change out here.”

  Haven practically sleepwalked toward the bathroom. Thankfully, she’d left her bag in there earlier in the day. She shimmied out of the dress and pulled on her usual sleep shorts and tank top. She gathered her hair into a tie and washed her face.

  Liam was stretched out on one side of the king-sized bed when she walked out of the bathroom. He’d changed into a loose T-shirt and shorts. He looked up from the book in his hands. “Done?”

  She nodded. “It’s all yours.”

  “Great.” He set his book on the side table and hopped up. He stopped in front of her, and Haven marveled yet again at how tall the man was. He dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “I’ll just be a second.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom, and Haven crawled onto the opposite side of the bed from where Liam had been. She slid under the covers, rolled onto her side, and tucked a pillow under her head, prepared to wait for him. She didn’t have to wait long.

  Liam stretched out on his side facing her, propping his head on his palm. God, he was handsome. If she weren’t so tired, sleeping next to all those muscles she couldn’t touch would make for a downright uncomfortable night.

  “Thank you for tonight,” she whispered.

&n
bsp; “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Thank you for the dress.”

  His grin was positively wicked. “Thank you for the dress.”

  Haven chuckled and shoved at his shoulder. “Can I tell you somethin’?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s dumb.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I was jealous of Angela when I first saw the two of you together. I feel terrible about it now because she’s a lovely woman with a passion I truly admire.” Exhaustion apparently crumbled any filter or sense of self-preservation she possessed because she kept talking. “I’m not even sure why I felt that way. I’ll shut up now. I warned you it was dumb.”

  “Can I tell you something?” Liam asked.

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t want to share you, either.”

  Haven felt something shift between them. Something warm and fuzzy and new.

  As if to prove her point, Liam pulled her against him. It had been so long since she’d just been held that Haven sank into the warmth of his arms. She closed her eyes, savoring the strength surrounding her.

  6

  “Dear, God, Liam. What did you do?”

  Liam slid the oversized bowl in front of Haven then stepped over the bench seat of the picnic table and plopped his ass down across from her.

  “I call this the Gut Buster.” He handed her a plastic spoon. “The world’s greatest dessert.”

  Dessert. The warm SoCal sunshine. His best girl.

  This is the fucking life.

  Haven looked skeptical. “It’s a pile of ice cream.”

  Liam slapped a hand to his chest and tried to act offended. “This is not just a pile of ice cream. This is a pile of in-house made chocolate and bourbon vanilla ice cream, topped with walnuts, slathered in caramel and marshmallow cream, with a cherry on top.”

  To demonstrate his seriousness about the particular delight, Liam dug a spoonful from the side and shoved it into his mouth.

  Haven cracked up. “You’re insane, you know that?”

  If by insane she meant he wanted to lay her out on the picnic table and eat ice cream from her breasts, then yes. He was fucking out of his mind. “You better dive in before there isn’t any left.”

  “There’s no way you’d be able to eat this all by yourself.”

  “Challenge accepted.” Liam grabbed the dish and pulled it toward him.

  Haven yelped. “Hey!” She settled the dish back between them. “Don’t you dare.”

  Damn, she’s fun.

  And he was in big fucking trouble.

  Navigating the new physical proximity aspect of their friendship had proven to be more complicated than he’d imagined. Instead of slowing its roll, his initial attraction to Haven had sped its happy ass out of the friend zone and into dangerous territory.

  If she were anyone else, Liam would be halfway to naked right now. But this was Haven. His friend. His anchor. His true north. The only woman—outside his family—whose opinion of him mattered.

  Two weeks were all it had taken for him to get attached to her as a kid. They weren’t kids anymore. His needs and desires had matured right along with him. Leaving the one-and-done lifestyle behind only made his feelings for Haven more complicated. His attraction to her was one thing. If he ever got inside her, Liam could be in real danger of becoming attached on a level that seemed much too high a ledge, considering she would go back to Ireland, eventually, and he … well, he had no plan.

  Liam scooped another bite as Haven did the same from her side of the dish. “Not that I’m happy you’re still suffering from jet lag, mind you, but I have to say putting the kibosh on the drive up the coast might be one of the greatest decisions you’ve ever made.”

  “It seems there’s no shortage of things to do around here.” Haven put the spoon in her mouth upside down. An innocent gesture, but one his cock wanted to see again. Up close.

  When she spoke again, her words were thick through the ice cream on her tongue. “I’d rather see where you live anyway. See the places you enjoy.”

  Maybe ice cream was a bad idea.

  “This creamery is one of my top three.” Buying some time to get his dick to heel, Liam studied the ice cream on his spoon, letting it melt a bit before he slid it into his mouth. “I think ice cream is one of the things I miss the most when I’m away.”

  “What are the other things you miss?”

  Liam considered her question as they tucked into the sundae. “Ice water. Ice cold beer.”

  “I see a pattern developin’. Is it safe to assume the places you go are stuck in a perpetual summer scorcher?”

  “I admit nothing.” He smirked. He’d been in Africa and Afghanistan, so she’d nailed it.

  She made a rolling motion with her fingers. “What else?”

  “Let’s see. I miss hot dogs and, fuck, tacos,” he groaned. “I really fucking miss tacos when I’m away. There’s this little taco shack right down the beach from my condo. It’s usually my first stop when I get back, if it’s not too late. If they’re already closed, then it’s tacos for breakfast the next morning.” Hell, yeah. He made a mental note to take her there tomorrow.

  “Is that all you miss? Food?”

  She looked genuinely curious, so Liam decided to go a little deeper. “I miss hanging out with the dogs at the sanctuary. Driving my own vehicle. The sound of the ocean from my bedroom window at night. Being in my own space. Clean sheets. Sex.”

  Shit. Liam shoved ice cream in his mouth to stop the steam of consciousness. He hadn’t meant to go that far.

  Haven stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You must really be busy that first day back. After the tacos, I mean.”

  Liam choked on a laugh. “I suppose I am.”

  “You haven’t been home very long this time. I hope I’m not crampin’ your style.”

  “Of course, you’re not. And besides, my style isn’t the kind that can be cramped.” He was more a roll with the punches kind of guy.

  “I know your style, Mr. One-Night-Only. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

  “Tired of sex?” he scoffed. “I’m a guy, pix. We never tire of sex.”

  Haven kicked him under the table. “No,” she said seriously. “Of being alone. Don’t you ever get lonely? Think about settlin’ down?”

  Liam dropped his spoon into the almost empty dish and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Being alone and being lonely are two different things. No one should consider settling down—or settling period—because they’re afraid to be either.” Liam gave her a hard stare. “If you don’t love him, don’t marry him.”

  “We aren’t talkin’ about me.”

  “Aren’t we?”

  Liam’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. “I need to get this,” he said, sliding from the bench. “But don’t think we’re done with this conversation.”

  Haven nodded as Liam answered the call.

  “Hey, Presley. What’s up?” Presley Masters was engaged to Liam’s friend and fellow Navy SEAL Evan Lancaster.

  “Liam. Thank God! I can’t believe this is happening. I’m at the nursery, and I need your help. There’s water—”

  “Whoa,” he said. “Slow down.”

  He heard Presley take a breath. “A main water line busted. Water is flooding the nursery. I’m going to lose thousands of plants if I can’t get them moved to a different part of the property. I’ve got all hands-on deck, but it’s not enough.” Her voice cracked. “I need more help.”

  Fuck. Evan and his team were currently overseas. When the wife or the fiancée of a deployed Navy SEAL called in distress, the guys at home circled the wagons.

  Liam checked his watch. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  He hung up the phone and turned to Haven.

  “We gotta go.”

  “How about the beefcake brigade?” Presley’s sister Emilia jumped to sit on the counter, apparently unconcerned about the mud covering almost every s
quare inch of her body. “Holy fuck, huh?”

  “Em. Jesus.” Presley sent Haven an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to excuse my sister, Haven. Her filter has been on the fritz for years.”

  Filter or no, Haven couldn’t disagree with Emilia’s assessment.

  Liam had spent the entire drive to Presley’s nursery—Masters Flower House and Greenery—on the phone. Over the last couple of hours, the guys from his team had arrived, as well as two additional men Liam had introduced as Asher Dillon and Aiden Stone. Apparently, Asher and Aiden were also SEALs.

  Lord Almighty, there were enough rippling muscles right outside the door to make another one of those Magic Mike movies.

  “No worries,” Haven said, picking at a twig caught in her ponytail. “I work in a bar. I’m not easily offended.” She teased the bark from her hair and tossed it into a nearby trashcan.

  Emilia gulped from the water bottle in her hand. “Judging by your accent, I’m gonna guess the bar isn’t around here…?”

  Presley handed Haven a bottle of water, which she gratefully accepted. “Thanks. And no. I live in Ireland.”

  “Oh, wow. You’re a long way from home.” Presley went to a cabinet behind the counter and pulled out a couple of towels. She tossed one to each of them. As they were mopping the sweat and mud from their faces, Presley asked, “How do you happen to know Liam?”

  As though she were back home in the pub, Haven flipped the towel to rest across one shoulder. “Liam’s family came to Killarney when he and I were kids. Both of our dad’s own pubs—ours, O’Somachain’s, in Killarney, and Liam’s Tavern J in Boston.”

  Emilia arched a brow. “Liam’s dad owns a pub in Boston? That’s so cool. Did you know that Pres?”