Wild Embrace: A Single Dad Romance (Wilder Irish Book 11) Read online

  Wild Embrace

  Wilder Irish, book 11

  Mari Carr

  Copyright © 2020 by Mari Carr

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  This story is dedicated to my mom and her sisters, my inspirations for Riley and Bubbles.

  They’ve spent years trying to teach me me how to decorate my house, grow plants, and cook.

  They have failed across the board.

  However, they were the best role models I could have asked for when it came to raising my children, showing me that laughter is the best medicine, and proving (through example) that weekly “tea times” are more fun when you serve beer.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Wild Dreams

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “You’re home early, my dear lass. Did you have a nice time?”

  Darcy gave Patrick a noncommittal one-shoulder shrug that pretty much said it all. His youngest granddaughter had just attended her senior prom, and he’d thought her plan was to then do a sleepover at her best friend Brooklyn’s house.

  “It was okay.”

  It was only a little after midnight, and Patrick was certain he was the only one still awake in the house. He’d moved in with Darcy’s parents nearly a decade earlier, his children concerned about him living alone in the apartment above the pub. He’d assured them he was just fine, but when Aaron and Riley put an addition onto their home and created this lovely little living space just for him, he was hard-pressed to say no. He had missed living with other people, being surrounded by family.

  The fact they lived in a ranch-style house and he no longer had to climb stairs was another big selling feature. His knees had been giving him fits for more years than he cared to admit.

  Darcy was still wearing her pale green prom dress, though she was carrying her heels by the straps in one hand.

  Patrick, who’d been reading in bed, scooted over and patted the mattress next to him. “Come tell me all about it. I’ll bet you were the prettiest girl at the dance.”

  “Everyone looked really nice.” Darcy walked across the room and claimed the spot he’d just cleared for her, sitting with her back resting against the headboard, sighing heavily.

  “That’s a sad sound, my dear. Did you not have fun?”

  Darcy twisted slightly to face him. “No. It really was okay. Just okay. I mean…I thought senior prom was supposed to be this awesome, amazing, romantic thing, but it was just a dumb old school dance in the gym.”

  “No romance, eh?” Patrick asked, trying to hide his grin. He’d been accused by others in his family of being “a bad influence” when it came to teaching his grandchildren about true love and romance. Those lessons had stuck for all of his twelve grandchildren, of that he had no doubt. But while half walked around with their hearts on their sleeves, like Darcy, the other half—his grandsons Colm and Lochlan leading the charge—pretended to consider things like true love bull hockey.

  Darcy was determined to find her Prince Charming and live happily ever after. Unfortunately, high school hadn’t yielded anything other than frogs.

  “It was just a bunch of Christmas lights strung up on the bleachers and cardboard cutouts of the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre.”

  At his quizzical look, she added, “The theme was ‘A Night in Paris’.”

  “Well, that certainly sounds like it had romantic possibilities.”

  She shook her head. “It didn’t.”

  “And your date?”

  “Mark. He was nice, but…he’s not the one, Pop Pop. He doesn’t make my heart race or my palms sweaty, and there were no fireworks when he kissed me good night. None of those things you said you felt when you were with Grandma Sunday.”

  Patrick smiled. Oh yeah. He’d definitely been a strong influence in this young girl’s life. She was one of his biggest fans when it came to his stories about Sunday and Ireland and the early days of the pub when their children started to come along.

  One of his favorite things to do was to tell stories about the past and Darcy was his most avid listener, always asking questions and wanting to hear more. He’d become more descriptive over the years, simply for her. Because Darcy had a vivid imagination, he’d had to work hard, turning his words into pictures in her bright, inquisitive, creative mind. It was never enough for him to say the pub where he’d first met Sunday was a typical Irish pub. He had to describe it, the sights, the smells, the sounds. All of it.

  And the same was true of his descriptions of love. He couldn’t simply say he’d fallen in love with Sunday after that first kiss. She’d demanded to know how he’d knew, what he’d felt—right down to the sweaty palms and twittery stomach and racing heart—that told him Sunday was the one.

  “You’re only young, lass. There’s plenty of time.”

  “You always say that, but I’ve never looked at anyone and felt anything even remotely like love. What if I never do?”

  Patrick reached over and patted her cheek affectionately. “You will.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I know you, my lovely dark-haired girl.”

  Darcy grinned. Patrick had told her years earlier that her name meant “dark-haired or dark one.” In her case, it certainly fit…at least appearance-wise. She’d been born with a head full of deep, rich black curls, the color so completely like Sunday’s, it had taken his breath away the first time he’d lain eyes on her.

  However, there was no denying the meaning of her name only applied to her hair because there wasn’t a speck of darkness in Darcy’s soul. She was the very epitome of white, bright light.

  Even at only seventeen, he was proud to see the confident, compassionate young woman she’d grown up to be. Darcy was one of those rare souls who could look into a person’s eyes and see what they needed, be it a joke or a hug or even just someone to sit next to them so they didn’t feel so alone.

  He saw bits and pieces of his beloved Sunday in all his children and grandchildren, but it was Darcy who seemed the most like his much-missed wife, who’d always been wise beyond her years.

  “You know what you want, lass. You’ve always known.”

  She nodded. “I want a man like you and Dad. Someone who’ll let me be myself, who’ll make me laugh, who wants kids, and who’ll be so good to them. Someone who will love me forever and never let me go because he can’t imagine a day without me in it.”

  “That is the best list I’ve ever heard. You deserve all that and more, sweet girl.”

  She gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’ve seen your heart, lass. It’s far too big to ever live without love. You are so much like my Sunday. Not only in looks, with that beautiful long dark hair, but inside as well. Heaven only knows where I would have ended up if not for Sunday, latching on to me and refusing to let go until I—if you’ll pardon the expression—pulled my head out of
my ass.”

  “Wait. You always said you fell in love with her the first night you met her.”

  “And I did. But falling in love doesn’t pave the way to an instant happy ending. That takes hard work, trust, commitment. The truth is…I tried to walk away from Sunday.”

  Darcy’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Well, she had another suitor, Connall, a man of immense wealth. I knew he could provide for Sunday, could show her the world in a way I never could. In our small village, he was a prince, while I was the pauper.”

  “So what?” Darcy’s tone, her aghast expression, reminded him so much of Sunday’s response at the time, all those lifetimes ago, that it took him a moment to gather his thoughts and respond.

  “I rather thought I was being selfless at the time. Sacrificing my own happiness for hers because I truly believed I was not worthy of her. She deserved more…always.”

  “Wow, Pop Pop.” Darcy rolled her eyes and Patrick couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Your grandma Sunday had the same response, which proves to me you’re smart enough to spot the right young man for you. Men aren’t always the wisest when it comes to matters of the heart. We tend to think more with our heads and with our pride, which is why we need strong, loving women like you in the world. To show us the error of our ways and guide us to the place we were always meant to be. Your heart will recognize the man who is right for you, just as Sunday’s recognized me.”

  “You think so?” she asked.

  Patrick bounced his pointer finger off her perky nose playfully. “I know so. And like you, with those rolling eyes—you get that from your mother, Riley, who got it from her mother—Sunday set me straight and let me know that money and happiness did not go hand in hand.”

  “She didn’t give up on you.” Darcy hadn’t asked it as a question, but he answered anyway.

  “No. She didn’t. She outsmarted me.”

  Darcy grinned widely. “How?”

  “Oh, in that age-old way all women make the men in love with them face the truth. She tempted the green-eyed monster from his lair by accepting an invitation to a dance from Connall. It soon became obvious I wasn’t as selfless as I liked to think. In fact, I was a downright caveman. The only thing I managed not to do the night of the dance was beat my chest and spirit Sunday away over my shoulder in true King Kong style.”

  Darcy laughed. “I would have loved to see that.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m not so sure Sunday would have appreciated that response the night of the dance. She let me know in no uncertain terms that I’d hurt her by trying to push her away. It was then I knew she was meant to be mine, and I vowed to never fail to appreciate the gift I’d been given. Sunday had given me her whole heart and I accepted the value of that priceless treasure, vowing to keep it safe. Sunday was worth more than all the riches on Earth. As are you, my lass. Never give up on your heart’s true love. Never settle for a man who doesn’t realize exactly how special, how extraordinary you are.”

  “I won’t,” she said. “I promise.”

  He smiled and gave her a kiss on the brow. “Do that, and I promise you will find everything you want. Happiness, romance, and true love.”

  Chapter One

  Darcy stood up when she heard a car door slam, the sound of voices coming from outside the house. Drifting to the front window, she saw Ryder Hagen emerging from the back of a car, thanking the driver. She spotted the familiar logo of a rideshare company emblazoned on a side window.

  She couldn’t understand why Ryder was getting a cab home. He’d clearly driven his car to work this morning, given the fact it wasn’t in its usual spot in the driveway.

  Maybe it broke down?

  Then she watched him stumble slightly on the sidewalk, and the light went on. Ryder was drunk. While she’d only babysat for him a dozen or so times in the past year, she’d never seen him drunk.

  She listened to him struggle to get his key in the lock for a moment before she realized he needed help. She walked over and threw the dead bolt for him, opening the door.

  “Oh, hey, Darcy.” He peered over her shoulder but didn’t walk into the house. “Boys asleep?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. For a couple hours now.”

  “Good. Don’t want them to see me like this.”

  She grinned, stepping aside as he entered. The two of them had a standard end-of-night routine that all took place in the front foyer of the house. He’d offer her money, she’d reject it, he’d insist, calling it beer money for college, and then she’d take it and head home.

  So she was surprised when he walked right by her and straight to the family room.

  Darcy paused for a moment, wondering if she should follow or leave. She really didn’t need or even want to be paid to take care of the boys. She’d do it for free, something she’d told Ryder over and over again. They were amazing kids, and she enjoyed spending time with them. She could simply call out good night, grab her coat, and be on her merry way. However, the Collins’ curiosity gene won out in the end, so she shut the door, following in his wake.

  Ryder had dropped down into the recliner, and she suspected he was only a few minutes away from passing out. She’d recently moved into the apartment above her family’s business, Pat’s Irish Pub, so she was pretty familiar with the stages of intoxication, having witnessed all of them in some form or another in the patrons.

  “Do you need anything?” she asked. “Water? Coffee?” She started to include aspirin on her list because she had a feeling his head was going to hurt like hell in the morning, but she didn’t necessarily want to point out she could tell he was wasted.

  Ryder glanced over, frowning, and she got the sense he hadn’t remembered she was there. He shook his head. “No. Nothing to do but sleep it off. How were the boys?”

  “Good as gold, as always. Clint had a little bit of a stomachache after dinner, but I gave him some ginger ale and rubbed his tummy and it passed quickly.”

  She grinned, completely aware that Clint was faking the stomachache. It was something he’d done quite a few times when she was here.

  “His mom always used to rub his stomach when he was sick.”

  Darcy had come to that same conclusion, which was why she never questioned Clint’s illnesses, and instead gave him as much motherly love as she could. “My mom did the same for me.”

  Ryder closed his eyes briefly. “He misses her,” he mumbled.

  “That’s only natural.”

  His only response was a grunt.

  “I started reading Harry Potter to them, but they informed me that your British accent was better than mine.”

  His eyelids lifted, and she sensed he was trying to focus on her and her comment. “I used to read that to…”

  Ryder didn’t finish his thought, but he didn’t have to. She’d been offering to read the book to them for the better part of a year, but both boys insisted Ryder was reading it to them. Or at least, he had been before his wife died. Darcy couldn’t help but notice every time she babysat that the bookmark never moved.

  Tonight, Clint was the one to pull it out, and she knew he’d given up hope that his dad would get back to it.

  “Vince claims you’re the best when it comes to doing Hagrid’s voice.” Then, she added, “Bloody ’ell, ’arry.”

  Ryder shook his head, one corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement. “I think that’s an Australian accent.”

  She sighed. “Damn. That’s what Vince said too. So, um…I thought you were working late tonight.”

  When he’d called this morning to see if she was available to stay with his son, Clint, and stepson, Vince, he had mentioned something about a big project at work and his plans to “burn the midnight oil.”

  “Yeah. I was. Made it all the way to six o’clock before that plan fell through.” His words were slightly slurred.

  “Fell through?”

  “Couldn’t concentrate.”

  This was hands down the longest conversation she’
d ever had with Ryder. And she was about ninety-nine percent sure he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow. His eyes were clouded, unfocused, and while he was talking—mumbling—he wasn’t looking at her, but instead at some random spot on the wall over her left shoulder.

  Part of her thought she should probably just leave, but she could tell he was upset, and that bothered her. A lot. Darcy hated it when people were sad, and Ryder Hagen had been sad since the day she’d met him.

  Granted, that first meeting had taken place just a few days after his wife, Denise, had been killed in a car accident. He’d spent the last year grieving.

  She looked toward the front entrance, then she perched on the edge of the couch.

  “Why couldn’t you concentrate?” she asked quietly.

  “It’s Denise’s birthday.”

  “Oh.”

  Denise and Ryder had been married for six years, buying this house and raising Vince and Clint together. Darcy couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain and loneliness Ryder must feel without her.

  Nowadays, Ryder shared the place with Leo, their living situation what Darcy considered the most incredible thing two dads had ever done for their kids.

  Leo was Vince’s dad, so when Denise died, he got full custody of his son. Rather than separate the boys after their mother’s death, Leo and Ryder had decided to become roommates to allow the brothers to remain together. They’d already lost their mother, and the men didn’t think it was right to also rob the boys of each other.

  When her cousin Yvonne, who was good friends with Leo, told her what the men were doing, Darcy vowed she would help them however she could. She wanted this unintentional but wonderful family of all males to succeed. Yvonne had felt the same way, so now they were both pretty regular visitors to the house. Darcy, who was in her last year of college, babysat, while Yvonne—the greatest cook on the planet after Darcy’s mom, Riley—brought them dinner a couple times a month.