Chasing River: A Novel

The sound of the door shutting downstairs wakes me. I assume it’s either Rowen or Ivy who just left. A quick glance next to me finds River sprawled out on his back, his naked body tangled in the sheets, his face so boyish in sleep.

I’m not entirely sure what happened last night. I called Alex, looking for advice from her. Or maybe I just wanted her to give me an excuse for this jumble of feelings I still hold for River. But she left me in a cloud of confusion when we hung up.

Now that I’ve had time to process our conversation, a few things are clearer. For one, I truly understand why my father retired.

It’s because he broke the law. He was the law, and he went against everything he has always stood for, has always preached. It wasn’t simply one quick mistake—one quick, wrong yes-or-no answer. He made a series of choices, took several actions, told many lies, which would, if anyone ever discovered it, tarnish his exemplary reputation forever.

And he did it all to protect Jesse. And Alex, of course. But mainly, to protect Jesse. Because while my brother made some bad choices that led him into that mess, he also made some honorable ones to try to get Alex and himself out of it.

I walked away from that phone call in a haze, but also strangely comforted with the knowledge that my father, the man I always trusted to do the right thing, found himself going against the law he so adamantly supports—and that things worked out for the better because he did.

I walked away from that and into River’s arms, unable to ignore the reality that I so desperately wish this could all work out for us, despite what he is. I know that it can’t, but just accepting my feelings allowed me to give myself permission to enjoy the little time that I do have left with him.

I move carefully, so as to not wake River, and roll out of bed, throwing on my nightshirt before tiptoeing out. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee rises to greet me as I descend the stairs. Rowen sits at the table, shirtless and reading the newspaper. The creaking bottom step announces my presence.

“Good morning!” He takes a sip, his eyes casually skating over me.

“Anything interesting?” I nod toward the front pages. Would the story have made the paper’s cutoff time for today?

He clears his throat dramatically. “ ‘Gardai were called to a Crumlin area neighborhood after reports of a suspicious vehicle parked down the street from an address known to law enforcement officials for its affiliations to dissident republican activities. Two men with ties to organized crime have been arrested for weapons-related offenses. Gardai believe this is related to recent events in Dublin.’ ”

So they weren’t surprised to find two potential hit men near Aengus’s house. I wonder if Duffy was there. “That’s all?”

He holds the paper up to show me the picture of a small white detached house sitting front and center in the dusk, the “For Sale” sign at the bottom right corner. “They made sure to get the known address included. I’m sure that’ll get prospective buyers chomping at the bit.”

I wander over to the coffeemaker to pour myself a cup. “Did Ivy just leave?”

“She had a client this morning. She wanted to get home to shower and change first.”

Really . . . “Did something happen between you two?”

“A gentleman never tells.” He folds the paper up with a smirk. “Don’t you birds all talk about this kind of stuff?”

“Ivy and I are a little bit different.”

“Well, Ivy’s certainly different.” He stands and stretches, giving me a good view of his chest and the bandage covering his tattoo. He’s muscular like River, only much leaner. “I can’t figure her out.”

“Yeah, she’s a tough one to read.”

“But I do like her.” Tipping his mug back to finish his coffee, he loads it into the dishwasher and then grabs his shirt. “Thank you for last night, Amber. I appreciate it. I know this isn’t something you, or anyone, wants to get mixed up in.”

“Glad I could help.”

“When do ya leave, again?”

“Sunday morning.” These last few days will go quickly.

He throws an arm around my neck and pulls me into his chest in a friendly way. “We better see you again before ya leave.”

I smile. “You will.”

A long pause. “River’s a good guy. And he’s mad about you. You know that, right?”

I flush. This is the first time I’ve ever had a remotely serious conversation with Rowen. “The feelings are mutual.” Which makes this all that much harder.

“I’ve got to go open up the pub, but can ya make sure he gets there by one? I’m in class all afternoon and into the evening. I can’t cover for him again.”

“Got it.”

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he disappears out the door.

It’s ten fifteen now. That gives me less than three hours with River before he leaves. Pouring a coffee for him, I carry it upstairs to my room. He’s just stirring as I set it on the nightstand beside him.

“What time is it?” he asks, his voice raspy and sexy.

I sit next to him, taking the opportunity to trace the ridges of his stomach muscles with my fingers. “After ten. You need to be at the pub by one.”

“Right. It’s Wednesday. Rowen has class.” He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “I’ve got a few errands to run before then. What do you have planned for today?”

I sigh. “Well, I was thinking that I haven’t been to Cork or the Cliffs of Moher. I’m going to regret not seeing those places.”

His hand settles onto my thigh. “You should definitely go. I don’t want you to have any regrets from Ireland.” The look in his eyes tells me he isn’t just talking about the Cliffs.

“But both places are three hours away, so I’d probably need to stay overnight.” Right now, I can’t think of doing anything that doesn’t involve having River in my bed again tonight. “I guess there’s no chance you could come with me?”

He groans. “I’d love to, Amber. Honestly. But with Rowen’s classes . . . and he has some sort of test tomorrow.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Tell you what. Go to Cork tonight and I’ll get Nuala or someone to cover the bar with Rowen tomorrow night and Friday afternoon. Then we can go to the Cliffs.”

Excitement stirs in my stomach. “Okay.”

“Grand. So go . . . stay in Cork tonight.” His hands find my waist and he pulls me onto him with surprising ease, tugging my leg over to straddle his, his morning erection pressing against me. My nightshirt comes off with quick, expert hands, leaving me in nothing but my panties. He pushes those aside. “But make sure you come back to me tomorrow.”