Rory turned the clock on his nightstand to face him and frowned. It was almost midnight. Clare would be getting off work soon. He headed into his bathroom and brushed his teeth, then pulled off his gym clothes and hopped into the shower.

Twenty minutes later, Rory was clean and in fresh clothes, pushing out the front door with Ace to escort Clare home for the second night in a row. As he filed alongside his canine best friend, he became more and more excited about seeing Clare. He hadn’t told her that he would be there again, but he was pretty sure she would be happy to see him.

At least he hoped she would.

Arriving in front of O’Leary’s a few minutes before one in the morning, he leaned against a light post to wait for Clare, Ace dutifully sitting next to him as if he already knew the drill. He briefly considered going in, but then remembered that Jimmy had warned him not to go anywhere near Cian after he had just punched him. He snickered to himself at the memory, glad to have wiped that smug sneer off the bartender’s face.

“What are you smiling at?” Clare’s soft voice broke through his thoughts.

“Just thinking of your gorgeous face, mhuirnín.” He tried to convince her with his most charming smile as she rounded the corner.

He met her halfway and slid his hand around her waist, giving her a quick squeeze as he pulled her closer to him. She shivered at his touch, sending a heat wave through his body as he contemplated just cupping her chin in his hand and kissing her right then and there.

“Liar, what were you really smiling at?” She pulled away from him and began walking, making him catch up to her.

“All right, I was thinking about punching your boss,” he admitted.

Clare’s head snapped around, her eyes searching his face to see if he was serious. When she realized he was, she giggled and smacked his arm lightly.

“I wouldn’t even mind anymore. He is so frustrating to work for.”

“I don’t doubt it; he seems like the type. Casey used to complain all the time about working for him, when she was younger.”

“What are you doing here again, anyway?” Clare abruptly changed the subject.

“Good to see you, too,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m serious. I am capable of walking myself home, you know.”

“In the middle of the night? In Woodlawn? I don’t think so, Clare. Not as long as you’re with me.” He responded so quickly that he hadn’t really thought through what he had just said, realizing it only when Clare blinked in surprise.

“I’m with you?” she said, slowly repeating his words back to him.

“Well, you are right now, aren’t you? Or am I dreaming this?” He grinned, hoping he could play off his forward statement with a joke.

“The best dream of your life.”

He knew that she was letting him off the hook. “Don’t I know it. But I’m not just here to walk you home.”

Clare raised one brow, questioning.

“I want to show you something—it’s a surprise. Only a slight detour from where you live.”

“You want me to go with a strange man somewhere I don’t know in the middle of the night? Isn’t that the kind of thing you’re supposed to be helping me stay away from?” she teased.

“Maybe, if I was a stranger.” He found himself instantly frustrated at her statement although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, except that he didn’t want her to think of him as a stranger, ever.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to have that, he stopped in his tracks and turned to her abruptly. Ace nearly collided with his legs, but Rory paid him no mind. Grabbing her elbow, Rory stepped toward her, forcing her to step back until she was met with the brick wall of a building. Trapping her on the sidewalk, he placed one arm on either side of her against the building, a position he knew affected her as much as it affected him.

“What are you doing?” She sounded out of breath as her big green eyes stared up at him with a mixture of what he thought might be some fear, but definitely arousal.

“You think I’m a stranger?” He felt his voice rumble in his chest as it lowered when he leaned in to her. His lips were inches from hers, but he wasn’t going to give her the release he could see she wanted.

“Tell me, Clare.”

“Tell you what?” She seemed as if he had just snapped her out of a daydream as she blinked quickly and cleared her throat, trying to straighten herself.

His looming presence over her made that impossible, especially when he pushed his body even closer against hers, keeping her locked against the wall. He could feel her chest heaving against his, causing a low rumble to travel through his body in response.

“Do you trust me?” he said, clarifying the real point of his question.

He watched her eyes dart down to his lips and then back up as she nibbled on the corner of her lip. It was taking all the self-control he had not to join her in tasting those lips.

“Yes,” she whispered, barely audible.

“Say it again, Clare,” he commanded, pushing one hand behind her back and arching her against him.

“I trust you,” she repeated, slightly louder this time and in a breathy voice. He searched her eyes as she spoke and was pleased to see that she was telling the truth. She really did trust him.

He wasn’t a stranger.

He knew that it was odd that this meant so much to him, but he felt like he had shown more of himself to this woman than he had shown to his family lately. He trusted her implicitly, though for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. So, when he realized she might not feel the same way, the thought drove him crazy and he had to find out. Seeing how her body responded to him, and the honesty in her eyes, he was sure now that she was feeling the exact same things that he was.

Thank God.

Releasing her, he stepped backward and motioned for Ace to join him as he grabbed Clare’s hand and pulled her along with them. “You’ve got to stop doing that to me.” She breathed loudly, trying to collect herself by smoothing the hair off her face. “That’s two nights in a row.”

“Doing what?”

“You know what.” And he did, but he wasn’t going to let her have that so easily.

“You’re going to have to spell it out for me, mhuirnín.”

“I find it hard to believe that your little stunt of trapping me between a rock and a hard place, literally, is accidental. You clearly know what it does to me,” she huffed, blushing.

“Am I the rock? Or the hard place?”

“Hell if I know,” she said with a smirk, her anger subsiding as he teased her.

They were quiet for a few blocks, holding hands and feeling the cold air on their skin. It was silent, but it wasn’t awkward. It was just comfortable, as if they both had suddenly reached a level of familiarity with each other that hadn’t been there minutes before.

“So where are you taking me?” Clare was the first to break the silence.

“My favorite place for late-night dessert. It’s right around this next block,” he indicated.

“Rory, it’s the middle of the night. Everything around here is closed.”

“That’s the only time that Wheaten is open. Their hours are from eleven at night until four in the morning,” he told her as they turned the next corner.

“What? Why? That’s so weird—how do they stay in business that way?” Questions tumbled out of her, but he didn’t answer because as they turned the corner, she would definitely see how and why.

The local storefront was just a counter opened up to patrons on the sidewalk. There were several lamps set up out front and a few iron chairs and small tables surrounding the counter. Despite the late hour and the quiet surroundings, the store had attracted a large crowd of people, all either waiting in line to order or sitting and enjoying their food with friends.

“Wow. I’ve walked past this several times and never would have guessed.”

“It’s a Woodlawn hidden gem. The majority of the neighborhood is Irish; this is one of our favorite dishes.”