Dirty Irish (Murphy Brothers) Read online

  My best friend had been silent during this entire exchange, which had me constantly glancing in her direction, just waiting for the blow. My body stiffened as I waited for her to speak. Would she tell me that this was all a huge mistake?

  Would I listen?

  Probably not.

  I kind of sucked at taking good advice. Especially when a real salary and a real chance at something more for myself and my family sat in front of me.

  “I’m surprised you don’t have a maid or something who does this,” I said, trying not to sound like a condescending bitch, so I raised my voice and smiled as I spoke, hoping that would help.

  “Okay, whatever tone that was, please don’t do it again. It’s a little creepy,” she replied, rinsing off a dish before putting it in the dishwasher.

  “I didn’t want you to think I was being a jerk, so I tried to sound nice, but I guess it just came out weird.”

  She laughed, taking a plate from my stack. “Ooookay. If you say so. We have a cleaning lady who comes, but this isn’t the Southside and I have a dishwasher, so it’s not a problem. Why don’t you explain about this job and the screw-me eyes you two were giving each other?”

  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye with a knowing smile, and heat crept up my neck and to my cheeks.

  “There were no screw-me eyes,” I scoffed.

  “Does he know that?” Fallon frowned.

  It took everything I had not to laugh out loud. “Seriously, the man is a player.”

  “Who looks at you like you’re the field and he wants to get on you.”

  I raised a brow. “Was that supposed to be a rugby analogy?”

  “Yeah.”

  I smiled, and then we both started laughing, only to be interrupted by the three Murphy brothers walking into the kitchen and eyeing us like they had no idea how washing dishes was so funny.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket with a message, and I looked down while Connor and Fallon chatted with Grace, Jack, and Sean.

  Sean: So, since it looks like the job is in the bag, wanna see the flat?

  Seriously? He messaged me instead of asking in front of everyone?

  I shoved my phone back in my pocket and turned to the sink, scrubbing a dish. Fallon could say whatever she wanted about the guy, but I knew all about players. This was just a business arrangement that would help my family and his. Nothing more.

  Or so I kept telling myself.

  Chapter Three

  Sean

  Spending a few hours in a scrum with a bunch of other guys was one way to get my mind off a girl. Not that I usually had this problem.

  Feck. Why was I even still thinking about Leah and how fecking good she smelled?

  Even though there was a full Irish breakfast spread and coffee on the table, all I could focus on was the velvet almond scent of her shampoo, and whenever she spoke, I could practically taste the coffee on her red lips. It made me hard just thinking about licking every last drop and then tasting her.

  No. No. No.

  She was my assistant. And I wasn’t going to be that guy anymore.

  If I wanted the company to stay with the Murphy’s, I had to find a wife.

  Even if I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it, even if I just sold the shares to my brothers, I needed a wife to have that option.

  That would be easier now that I had a new personal assistant who seemed to know me better than I did myself.

  But even after breakfast, then practice, a day of sleep, and another practice, it was as if the woman was the bright light I needed, but I was the damn moth who would be burned if I got too close.

  Pulling my buzzing phone out of my pocket, I saw a few missed texts.

  Leah: Okay, just got the official offer to be your personal assistant signed, NDA, and Fallon is taking me by the flat then the offices to get connected to the Murphy system.

  Leah: It says you’re in practice and then have a meeting with Connor after. He told me to remind you since you’re always late.

  Leah: Then I need the passwords for whatever dating sites you’re on, so I can try to find some girls and set up meetings.

  Leah: Meetings sounds horrible. Dates? Something. Damn, you have a lot of travel on this calendar. I guess I could find you some lunch dates.

  Everything had always revolved around rugby in my life.

  Now I was thinking about things beyond that.

  If I didn’t at least think about looking for a girl I could see as a wife, my brothers and I could kiss Murphy’s Pub goodbye.

  …

  My title on paper at Murphy’s was president, but mostly I just showed up for board meetings once a month and had a shit-ton of online meetings and emails.

  Jack was CEO, and Connor CFO, which meant they handled the brunt of the work, something that always hung over me like a guilty dark cloud.

  I tried to keep my head in the business for once. Show them that I was here for Murphy’s. And after several eternal meetings that went on forever, we settled into Connor’s office. Grace, my best friend and Jack’s soon-to-be wife, had streamlined this meeting and notes process when she was Jack’s assistant so it would be easier to put everything into a memo to go out to the rest of the company. But, still, it was a lot more desk work than I was used to.

  Something else my new assistant could help me with.

  “All right, thanks, gentlemen. We’ll be in touch when the first shipment is ready,” Connor said before saying his goodbyes to the men on the call and hanging up.

  “Is this shite what you and Jack do all day?” I asked, scribbling the last of the notes. I probably should have just taken a laptop for this, but I was running late and knew I wouldn’t have time to go home before practice and didn’t want the thing to be crushed in my bag.

  He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “We do a hell of a lot more than show up for board meetings and attend conference calls. But you’ll get there. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

  I arched an eyebrow, guilt piercing through me. I’d been trying to get to the next level in rugby, which had been my sole focus. That is, until the day the fecking will was read. “Things that bad you need me here?”

  He shook his head, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Naw. The company was a pretty well-oiled machine before Jack and I ever came in. But it would be nice to have you around the office and not have to call you in for important decisions.”

  I scratched the back of my neck, averting my eyes. This was the conversation I had with Da when I was first recruited out of uni.

  He never wanted me to play professionally.

  Maybe if I’d known how bad he was, I would have listened a little harder instead of putting all of my attention toward getting to the next level in the sport.

  Watching Da take his last breath had changed everything. I’d kind of resented Murphy’s before that, but now, I’d do whatever it took to preserve it.

  It felt like the weight of everything had been laid on my shoulders. The guy who wasn’t even sure he wanted to do anything but play rugby.

  “I can try to be around more. Season’s almost over,” I said with a nod, hoping that would sustain him.

  Though, truth be told, there had been rumblings that the All Blacks in New Zealand were looking for a new hooker, my position.

  They were always the end goal for me. Something I’d been working toward since I was just a chubby fourteen-year-old whose high school rugby coach took a chance on him. I’d worked my arse off every day to get in shape. Even when we lost a match, I kept pushing myself harder, keeping the All Blacks as the end goal.

  But the company was a priority now. We had to keep it in the family.

  “Good, then with Leah’s help, maybe you can finally find a decent woman.” Connor said. He stood, buttoning his suit coat. “Jack said he even went to a matchmaker, though we know how that turned out, since he ended up with his assistant.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t be following in you and Jack’s footsteps and falling for an assistant,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. But even as I thought about Leah, I couldn’t help smiling, a new warmth flooding my stomach.

  Connor’s eyes narrowed. “Should I be worried about you and Leah?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you want her, you need to think about the company. What’s at stake with finding a wife.”

  Didn’t I always?

  I let out a deep breath and patted him on the back. “Leah’s a friend. She’s not interested in me that way. She made that perfectly clear. I’m taking this whole thing seriously, and she’s helping me.”

  “All right, brother,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  He was probably as worried as I was.

  I had six months to find a wife and stay married to her for another six months after that for the company to officially be ours.

  I still sucked at the business part of all of this, but my new assistant would help.

  I wasn’t ready to give up rugby this early in my career, so I had to find a way to keep playing, carry my load at the company, and somewhere in that schedule, find a wife.

  Piece of cake.

  Chapter Four

  Leah

  “So, this is the flat?” I asked, twirling in a circle in the studio apartment.

  The way Fallon had talked about the place, I expected it to be some hole-in-the-wall, but this was nicer than anywhere I’d ever lived.

  It may have been one big room with an attached kitchen, but the hardwood floors, exposed brick, and furniture that Connor had purchased for Fallon when she lived here, all gave it a warm and bright feeling.

  Bouncing from the curtained-off, full-size bed to the faux fireplace with flat screen over it, then over to the couch and breakfast bar by the window, I already started to feel like the place was going to be a great temporary abode.

  Nothing was permanent in my life.

  The boutique in Chicago was supposed to be my forever, and I thought after being with my ex on again and off again since we were in high school meant he would be mine as well. The betrayal of finding him and that damn socialite together gutted me more than I cared to admit.

  I may have told Fallon to go for Connor head-on, but she was a different girl than I was, that was for damn sure. Starting with our outfits. While she was in a sensible wrap dress I’m sure was perfect for the office, I opted for a pencil skirt with a harlequin print peplum top. Still couldn’t believe the outfit never sold at the store or on eBay when I was liquidating. It was a killer look paired with Mary Jane booties and now would be great for my new role as assistant to the president of Murphy’s Pub.

  It sounded so official. I should put it on letterhead and send something to Becky and Jimmy.

  Ugh. No.

  Then I’d have to actually have some kind of correspondence with them.

  I’d stayed off social media since the breakup. Maybe I could just have Fallon post something. Would serve Becky right for saying I’d never be anything without her, since she was the one with money and a fancy college degree.

  “The paperwork’s been filed with the company. You’re officially Sean’s assistant, but if you want to back out and continue bartending instead, tell me now,” Fallon said, knocking me out of my vengeful fantasy of telling Becky where to stick her stupid daddy’s money.

  “Why would I back out?” I asked, shaking my head.

  She winced, and the hair stood on the back of my neck. I held my breath as I waited for her response.

  “No offense, but with everything going on, you know, in your personal life, and since you do know about the inheritance clause and Sean… Well, you know where his mind is headed with everything.”

  “What the hell, Fal? You can’t say ‘no offense’ before implying someone’s a gold digger then expect the other person not to get pissed,” I scoffed, my shoulders tensing that she’d think I was that kind of girl.

  She put her hands up. “Okay, forget I said that last part. I don’t think you’re going to try anything, I know. But if you are attracted to him in the least bit, tell me now.”

  I straightened my shoulders, and new determination boiled through me. I may have been through hell lately, but when I saw the salary for Sean’s assistant, the one that would cover Sophia’s tuition and then still have some leftover I could eat more than peanut butter and jelly every night, I had to sign on the dotted line.

  “I got this. Don’t worry. Sean will have a wife, the business, rugby, and soon you’ll have all the Murphy boys hiring me as their personal assistant.”

  She smiled, nodding. “There’s my cocky best friend.”

  “Now that we got that talk out of the way, wanna get me set up with the passwords and logins I need? Figured I might as well start now while Sean’s in meetings and get a feel for everything.”

  “Damn, I love you and how you jump right in.” She put her arm around my shoulders. “Come on, we’ll head to my office, get your badge, and get you squared away.”

  “Awesome.”

  I followed her down two flights of stairs and into the cool morning air. I’d already had two large cups of coffee at Fallon’s place before we went to the flat, but I was still dragging. I was definitely not a morning person, but being with my best friend again was great. And I had to admit that the beautiful landscape of Dublin was a sight worth seeing, even if the sun had barely risen and I had to pull my peacoat tightly around me to keep out the chill.

  Glancing around the cobblestone street lined with brick buildings, I wondered if there was some sort of café that we could stop in for another coffee.

  Then something on a newsstand caught my eye, a jolt stronger than coffee, and I stopped, so fast that Fallon practically ran over me.

  Darting to the left, I slowed in front of a small stand and tried to keep my hands from shaking as I picked up the magazine. Staring back at me from the front cover was a set of bright blue eyes I knew and a chiseled, tattooed chest that I hadn’t seen in person, but may or may not have gawked at online.

  “Why the hell is Sean on the cover of a magazine?” I whispered, flipping it open then thumbing through it until I found his article.

  Billionaire franchise heir turned rugby phenom

  I skimmed a few lines, but mostly kept staring at the photos of him with nothing more than a large white ball covering his most impressive parts, my own face now heating up as I gawked at the pages.

  “Oh, I didn’t know they actually published that article. Or that he did those type of photos for the photoshoot. That’s definitely more of him than I ever want to see,” Fallon muttered the last part.

  I gasped, not realizing she was right next to me and quickly closed the magazine, fumbling with the slick paper. Before I could get it all the way closed, a resounding riiiipppp echoed through the air.

  “Dammit!” I held the offending page.

  “You break it, you buy it, girl,” An old man, perched on a stool at the corner of the stand bellowed.

  “Seriously? It’s like a tiny rip,” I said, holding up the magazine where the back cover was completely split down the middle.

  “Ya shouldn’t have picked it up if you didn’t want it,” he replied.

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes and plucked a few bills from my wallet. I guess at least I could read more of the article and use it for this matchmaking thing.

  Or stare at it in private and not tell anyone.

  Fallon eyed me, but I didn’t say a word, just shook my head.

  Shoving the magazine in my purse, I followed her the rest of the way to the wrought iron gates with the words “Murphy’s Pub” sculpted into it.

  The old brick building had a ton of character with hardwood floors, large gothic-style windows, and history practically pouring from every inch of the place. It would have been the perfect place for a photoshoot with models in old 1920s garb, positioned next to desks with a bottle of whiskey and a tommy gun.

  My stomach lurched at the very thought of the shoot. As much as the idea got my wheels turning, it also made me realize that I wouldn’t be doing another photoshoot. My boutique was gone, and my only focus was to earn money so my sister could continue with her college classes. At least she hoped for something more.

  I had no idea what my future was going to hold after this job ended. Whether I’d ever own another boutique. Would I work on a line, or just live in my mom’s basement forever? Whether life took me, I needed to support my family. The way to do that was to keep working with the Murphys.

  “This is Sean’s office where your desk will be—when you’re here, that is. A lot of the guys’ stuff is virtual now, as are their assistants, so really, this is mostly for meetings that need to be in person,” Fallon said, knocking me out of my self-pity.

  This really was like a real-life Mad Men. Or well, an Irish version of it.

  The gothic-style floor-to-ceiling windows took up most of the far wall where an L-shaped wooden desk sat facing away from it. To the left of those windows was a walled off area with a large door and a plaque that read “Sean Murphy, President.”

  Again, perfect place for a photo shoot. That thought had me sighing out loud as we walked back down the hallway to another large, open area with windows on one side and mahogany walls filled with black and white photos on the other.

  “Everything okay?” Fallon asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the desk.

  “Yeah, kinda, not really,” I said with a sigh.

  “It’s a lot to take in, trust me, I know. If you don’t want to do this, just tell me. You can always be honest with me. Hell, you usually are.”

  I smiled, despite my tense thoughts. “I was actually just thinking that this would be a great place for a photoshoot. You know, with some cute vintage work clothing.”

  She put her arm around my shoulders, squeezing it lightly. “That could still happen for you, you know? This is just another stepping block to get where you want to be.”

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  Before I could respond with something more heartwarming and best-friend-like about how I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her new family, a door to our left opened.