Irish Sex Fairy

Chapter Twelve

The ringtone of Shane’s cell phone somewhere in the bedroom aroused them from a drifting, languorous state of near-sleep. His warmth and heaviness felt so good, his arms around her, her head on his chest.

Keara lifted her head and gazed around the room.

“Shit,” Shane muttered, rolling away from her and out of bed.

He found the phone attached to his pants, lying in a heap on the floor. “Yeah?” He stood there, naked, his back to her, and she admired the curve of his back, the smooth ridges of muscle sloping down to two deep indentations just above the finest buttocks she’d ever seen. She smiled on a soft breath out. “I got tied up,” Shane said, and glanced at her with a lifted brow. “I may be a while longer. Why?” He listened. “Yeah, okay. Do that, that’s fine. I’ll see you later.”

He snapped his phone shut and dropped it on the bedside table before sliding back under the duvet cover.

“Don’t you have to go back to work?”

“Yeah. But we have a little longer.” He reached for her and slid her up against his hard warmth. “This is too nice to leave.”

“Mmmm.” She couldn’t argue with him there. She snuggled in again, a feeling of peace and contentment sliding over her. “You know, I didn’t make that story up.”

“What story?”

“About the SUV forcing me off the road.”

“I never thought you did.”

“Oh.” She listened to his heart thudding, strong and sure, beneath her cheek. “Okay. I think that other guy…what was his name?”

“Curtis.”

“Yeah. I think he thought I was totally making it up.”

“Possibly. We do tend to get a little cynical.”

“I just wanted you to know that…” She tipped her head back. “I didn’t make it up, but…I’m worried that maybe I’m going crazy.”

His mouth quirked. “You are, huh? Why are you worried about that? Because of the PTSD?”

“Well…” She cleared her throat. “Yes. And because of what happened at home just before I came here.”

“What happened, Keara?” He stroked a hand down her back, reassuring and strong.

She told him about the break-in at her condo and how it had turned out to be nothing. “My mind seems out of control lately,” she confessed to him, hiding her face against his chest again. “I also had a panic attack a couple of days before that when I tried to visit the bank. That’s never happened to me before. I didn’t believe it was a panic attack, but the doctor said it was classic. My mind and my body seem like they’re beyond my control sometimes. It…it scares me.”

“It is scary.” He pressed his face to the top of her head. “It’s terrifying. And nobody understands it, unless they’ve experienced it.”

She lifted her head to look at him, remembering what he’d said that night at his parents’ home. “You had PTSD, too?”

“Yup. It was humiliating. I hated to admit it, but like you, I couldn’t hide the things that were happening to me, the reactions I was having to stuff. Thank God for my parents, who recognized what was going on and made me get help. If it wasn’t for them…” His mouth tightened. “I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“So you know what’s like. But did you imagine things happening that weren’t real?”

He shook his head. “No. But everyone is different. I knew one guy who came back convinced everybody was out to get him. Like they were the enemy. He was really screwed up.”

Keara sucked on her bottom lip. “I guess it could be how I react. But I hate that, Shane. I don’t know if I can trust myself to really know what’s going on. That’s twice something like that has happened. How am I going to…” Her voice broke and she stopped, unable to say the words that terrified her.

“How do you know you can go back to work and manage a bank?”

She gave a small nod, her throat tight.

“Give it time, a thaisce.” He stroked her back again, warm, protective. The Gaelic endearment rolled off his tongue. “Give it time. You will.”

At that moment, she felt hope sprout inside her, tiny but there, more than she’d had for weeks of hopeless helplessness. Maybe Shane was right. She moved against him, skin to skin, loving the way she felt alive and…God, sexy.

They made love again—three orgasms in one afternoon, lord, that was amazing—and talked a little more until Shane heaved a sigh and said he really had to go back to work.

“I don’t want to cost you your job,” Keara said with a smile, buttoning her shirt carefully over bruises and tender breasts. She didn’t like the bruises, but the tender breasts were actually exciting. Every time she brushed over the sensitive tips she got a flippy feeling low in her tummy.

“Don’t worry.” He grinned. “I hardly ever take a lunch break. One day I take an extended one I think is okay.”

She glanced at her watch. “And you still have to take me home. Or, I could call a taxi…”

“Don’t be silly. It’s not far, I’ll drop you off.”

She walked into the Irish Sex Fairy Shop feeling lighter and more relaxed than she had in ages. Dear God, Maeve had been right. She couldn’t help the smile that pulled up the corners of her mouth, and when Maeve looked up at her from the counter and did a double-take, she knew Maeve probably recognized her change in demeanor too.

“And where have you been, young lady?” Maeve demanded, but her twinkly eyes belied the harsh question.

“Um. With Shane.” She knew Maeve would know exactly what they’d been doing. And she didn’t even care.

“Ah. Well, that’s fine, then. You look quite…relaxed.”

“Yeah.” Keara touched a hand to her hair, sure she still wore a goofy smile. “I feel pretty good.”

“I won’t say I told you so, as long as you promise to remember that I am right about most things.”

Keara laughed, and it felt so good it startled her. “Okay, I’ll remember that.”

“Not to ruin your mood, but what happened at the police station?”

Keara told her and shrugged. “I doubt they’ll find anything. But Shane believes me.”

“Well of course he does! I believe you too!”

Keara regarded her aunt, and a soft warmth spread inside her. “Thank you,” she choked out. “That means a lot to me.”

Maeve shook her head, but was smiling.

“Anything for me to do?” Keara asked.

“Actually there was a phone call for you a while ago.” Maeve reached for a piece of paper and handed it to Keara. She looked down at the name and phone number. Oh lord. It was the case manager from the disability insurance company the bank contracted with. She was the one who’d arranged for Keara to see a psychologist when she’d been having the flashbacks and nightmares, and had arranged for Keara to go back to work—until she had that episode of dizziness. Then the plan had been put on hold. Keara had emailed her too, that she’d be out of town and could be reached at this number.

“I guess I should call her,” she murmured. “I’ll go upstairs.”

Up in Maeve’s apartment she called Stefanie Craig.

“Hi, Keara, how are you doing?”

If Stefanie had asked yesterday, she’d have gotten a totally different answer, but today Keara felt pretty good. “I’m doing okay,” she said. “Considering.”

“Considering what?”

Keara told her about the accident.

Stefanie was shocked. “Oh my goodness! Are you okay?”

“I’m a little bruised up, stiff and sore, but I’m okay. They checked me out at the hospital but they released me.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re not ready to come back to work, then.”

“Uh…well, no. I mean, I could, but…” The thought brought on a familiar anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach, although not anywhere near as bad as the attack she’d had the day she’d tried to go back to work. Would it escalate into more? Keara pressed a hand to her tummy as she talked. “I think I’ll be ready soon. One problem is I no longer have a car. I doubt if it will be able to be fixed, so I’m going to have to get a new one once I settle with the insurance company. So I have no way to get home.”

“Well. There are other ways to get home.”

“Yes. I suppose. I could uh…fly down.”

“Or take a bus,” Stefanie said cheerfully. “But if you’re still sore from the accident, that’s okay. I’ll give you a call next week and see how you’re doing. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll know more by then and I’m sure I’ll be feeling much better.”

She was sure of no such thing, but considering how cheery she’d felt after her romp with Shane, there was some hope that she actually might get better enough to go back soon.

The bright mood lasted until Shane’s phone call later that day to tell her that they had in fact found traces of blue paint on her back bumper.

“Oh, dear God,” she breathed. “Really?”

``Yes. Dark blue. Not much. We’ll see if there’s enough to analyze.”

She drew in a breath. “Then what?”

“It’s unlikely we’ll ever find the vehicle it belongs to,” he said. “But if we know the make and model, it’s a starting point.”

They had to believe her now. Which she should be happy about, but goddammit, someone had really tried to run her off the road! Why? Why would someone do that to her? It was insane. She rubbed her hands up and down over the goose bumps that rose on her upper arms.

It was just a stupid accident. Probably a kid showing off, trying to act like a NASCAR driver or something, got carried away and when he’d seen what he’d caused, he probably ran scared. It was despicable. It was bad luck. But she was okay.

It took a few days for the car to get estimated and everyone had been right, it was a total loss. She thought she’d be sad about that, considering how much she’d loved rewarding herself with that car, but hey, it was just a car. She was alive and that’s what mattered. She’d get another car.

Shane had dealt with her insurance company even though she kept telling him he didn’t have to do that. She’d seen him every day when he popped in to check on both her and Maeve. She told him he didn’t have to do that either. She wasn’t a baby or an invalid, for heaven’s sake. So she had a few problems—he didn’t have to worry about her.

“I like looking after you,” he’d murmured into her ear. “How about we go back to my place and I’ll look after you even better?”

They couldn’t keep their hands off each other and when he wasn’t around, she had a hard time thinking of anything but him. Again, Maeve was right. The more you had sex, the more you wanted it. She had this insatiable hunger for Shane that no amount of foreplay, sex, afterplay or any kind of play seemed to assuage.

Keara helped in the store as much as she could. She listened to Maeve give out jaw-dropping sex advice. Like the man who wanted a strap-on dildo for his wife to wear. When Maeve asked him if his wife wanted to do that, he said, “Uh…I don’t know.”

“Go home and ask her,” Maeve said, patting his arm. “You’re going to freak her out if you come home and tell her you want her to do that to you without talking about it.”

He did.

Then a man came in and wandered from one area to the other, casting sideways glances at both Maeve and Keara until Maeve finally approached him. “My wife and I have this fantasy,” he said in a low voice, although Keara heard every word. “I want to be a patient, and she’s going to be the nurse.”

Maeve led him over to her selection of costumes and clothing, and found him a nurse uniform that would fit his apparently quite buxom wife.

And then came the man who wanted to be wrapped in clear plastic. Maeve sent him to the grocery warehouse store for wholesale-size rolls of cling wrap.

Keara was getting quite an education.

That evening she was waiting for Maeve to go out to her weekly bridge game, anticipating being alone again in the apartment and thinking she was going to be okay with it, wondering if Shane was going to come by. But Maeve was puttering around in her kitchen and making no move to go out. Keara checked her watch. She was going to be late.

Was Maeve staying home because of her? She’d better not be. Finally Keara had to say something.

“Aren’t you playing bridge tonight?”

Maeve stared at her. “Bridge?”

“Yes. You know, that thing you do every Tuesday night?”

Maeve’s auburn brows snapped together. “It’s Tuesday?”

Keara’s heart sank. “Yes, it’s Tuesday.” She forced a smile. “The day after Monday.”

Maeve’s eyes got all owl-blinky and she turned her back to Keara. “I can’t believe I forgot what day it is,” she said brightly, but her voice sounded funny.

“You still have time. It’s only a quarter to seven.”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll just go freshen up.” She hurried out of the room.

Oh dear, oh dear. Keara sank down onto the couch. Another example of Maeve’s memory problems. She hadn’t seen any problems for a few days, had almost hoped maybe everything was fine, but damn, this wasn’t good.

Maeve rushed out of the apartment, leaving Keara alone. Last time she’d been there alone, she’d been a little antsy, a little edgy, but tonight she thought she was okay. Just a touch worried about Maeve, distracted by trying to decide what to do. She was going to have to talk to Maeve about it.

And then Shane arrived.

She stared at him in exasperation as she let him in. “Now what are you doing here?” Deep down, she had to admit, she was happy to see him. And it wasn’t because she didn’t want to be alone. It was because she wanted to see him.

“Bridge night,” he said softly, pushing against her with his body, gently, insistently. “Right?”

“Right.” She pushed back, their pelvises bumping together, sending a jolt of sweet heat through her. “Come on in.”