Free Dirty Beautiful Rich Part Three by Eva Devon Page B

about the music. “Can we go to a trad night?”
    He blinked. “A trad night?”
    “Yes, a traditional night. They play traditional music in the pub. . .
    “I know what it is Julie, love.”
    She groaned. Of course he knew. Why was she trying to tell him about his own country? “You don’t want to. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get a cab into the city or something.”
    He suddenly stared at her as if she’d gone insane, his eyes flashing. “You will not.”
    “What, is Galway dangerous?” From what she’d heard it was one of the safest towns in Ireland.
    “No. It’s not but it is full of good craic , good fun, you understand. And in Ireland, good fun means drink and crowds. I’ll not have you surrounded by a group of sweaty young asinine drunks ready to show you how marvelous Irish lads are.”
    Her lips twitched. “Are you jealous?”
    “Irish men are different than Americans. They’ll charm your pants off before you know it if they think they can take advantage.”
    She rolled her eyes. Was he really so concerned? “Do I look like a créme puff?”
    It was a bad choice of words. In that instant, she must have resembled some sweet food, because he looked like he could eat her whole.
    “I’ll be going with you to any pub at night, Julie Doyle.”
    She shifted on the Range Rover’s seat trying to decide if she liked his abrupt possessiveness. All her life, she’d been fairly independent ,and well, after losing her dad and looking after her mom, she was used to looking after herself. “I’d love your company, but I’d just like to point out that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
    Even in Denver, when he’d had security escort that jerk out, she knew that if she’d been left to her own, she would have been okay. She needed Damian to know that.
    He reached over and took her hand in his big one. “You’ve taken care of yourself too long, beautiful. If you truly wish to go by yourself, I won’t stop you. I will sit home with white knuckles as you no doubt tell all those charming idjeets to go shag themselves.”
    She laughed. “Idjeet?”
    He nodded. “Idjeet. It’s a proper Irish word.”
    “Damian,” she said, holding his hand, half afraid she’d hold too hard and make him pull away but she loved the sensation so much. “I would far prefer for you to come with me.”
    He was quiet for a long moment. “Then I will.”
    “Good.”
    He gave a nod. “Good.”
    And then they were silent. Too her slight disappointment she realized they were bypassing Galway, driving around the bay and then suddenly they were on a road heading out into rougher, wilder terrain.
    She gasped. Again. Only this time audibly. She made a definite effort to close her mouth.
    The water on her left was the most stunning Caribbean blue. How? How was such a thing possible? The water had to be freezing. She didn’t ask. She couldn’t. Suddenly there were tears in her eyes and she was filled with so much joy it hurt. Her mom would have loved this. She would have grinned and chatted and snapped pictures. They would have pulled the car over,  hugged, and raced across the beach. She could see it as vividly as the ocean stretching out before her.
    “Are you alright? You’ve tears in your eyes, beautiful.”
    Damian’s voice was so soft, she almost didn’t hear it. “Yes. I. . . I’m probably going to have lots of moments like this. My mom always wanted to come to Ireland. We planned it.”
    “Now, you’re here.”
    “Yes.” Her throat closed. She was so awed by the beauty of it all but she always wished to so much that her mom shared this.
    “Julie,” Damian said gently. “Make no mistake, you’re mother is here too.”
    She nearly gaped at Damian. The hard, no nonsense businessman, who wore power with the ease that most men wore their coats. “Do you truly believe that?”
    “I do.”
    And as if to confirm his opinion, she could almost here her mom laughing and teasing, Oh, Julie what a