“Don’t worry. I’ve got a perfectly good sleeve here to wipe your tears away.”
She smiled at him, then pulled out her camera and turned it on. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and snapped a picture. When it came up on the screen, she showed it to him. “You and me in the most romantic place in Ireland,” she said.
He pulled her into a playful embrace and nuzzled her neck. “Oh, I think we can do much better than that!”
WHEN NAN HAD BOOKED her trip to Ireland, she’d sketched out an entire itinerary, each day planned down to the hour. But now, she realized that all she wanted to do was to let the next nine days unfold in front of her, full of surprises.
Shopping for groceries had been an exercise in silliness, with Riley providing commentary on everything she put in her trolley, as he called it. She’d purchased enough food to last her for a week and mentally planned out a meal for that evening, hoping that Riley would agree to stay for supper if an invitation were offered.
Though they’d both avoided the subject of what hadn’t happened the night before, Nan had no doubt they’d be faced with the same choice tonight. Over the course of the day, she’d only confirmed the undeniable attraction between them. At every opportunity, Riley found an excuse to pull her into a kiss or to rest his hand at the small of her back or to run his fingers through her hair.
Though it hadn’t gone further than mild displays of public affection, Nan felt the need growing between them. She saw the desire in his eyes, felt it in the way he held her. His desire was like the waves crashing against the rocks, slowly washing away her inhibitions, threatening to sweep her out to sea.
It was already impossible to control her feelings for him. With every hour that passed, she became more infatuated with him. No amount of self-censure seemed to help. Yes, she knew all the risks, but here, in this strange land, her usual common sense had inexplicably abandoned her.
When they reached the cottage, Riley helped her carry the groceries inside. Nan sorted them, putting some in the small refrigerator and others in the cabinets above the stove. But when she was finished, she realized that she’d neglected to buy anything decent to drink.
“Wine,” she murmured. “I forgot to buy wine. And beer.”
“Don’t worry yourself. I’ll bring some up from the pub.”
“When you come for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“You’re going to be cooking for me now?” Riley grinned.
“Yes. It’s the least I can do after you drove me to the supermarket. Can you come or do you have to work?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “But there is one thing I need to know.”
“What’s that?”
“Should I bring a toothbrush?”
Nan felt her cheeks warm and she pressed her face into his chest. Undeterred, Riley hooked his thumb beneath her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. “Am I being too bold then?”
“No,” Nan murmured. “And it might be a good idea to bring other…necessities?” He smoothed his hands over her hips and pulled her against him, the action provocative. A shiver of anticipation skittered up her spine.
“That I can do,” he said, leaning to whisper in her ear. “I’m thinking about kissing you again, and about carrying you into the bedroom and letting you have your way with me. But I think we should leave that until tonight, no?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly.
“So, we have two options. I can leave you and return tonight. Or, we could take ourselves down to Jimmy McPhee’s place and have a chat.”
“I vote for Jimmy McPhee’s,” she said.
“All right then, let’s go.”
They arrived at a small whitewashed cottage just minutes later, Riley pulling the SUV up to the front gate. “Jimmy is a notorious flirt,” he warned. “He’ll probably ask if he can kiss you and he’s sure to grab your arse, so keep a watch out.”
“You said he was eighty.”
“Oh, that doesn’t stop him. He may have slowed down a bit, but whenever he stops by the pub, he has the ladies buying him drinks all night long.”
They knocked on the door and a few seconds later, it swung open to reveal an elderly man with pure white hair and twinkling blue eyes. His eyes widened when he caught site of Nan and he grabbed her hand. “Oh, Lord, my prayers have been answered. I’ll forget about winnin’ the lottery if you’ll just let me keep the girl.”
“Afternoon, Jimmy,” Riley said, snatching Nan’s hand from the old man. “We’ve come to see you to ask a question. Can we come in for a chat?”
“Only if you’ll stay for a cup o’ tea,” he said, stepping back to allow them inside. “Come, come. And mind your manners, Riley Quinn. Introduce me to your lovely friend.”
“This is Nan Galvin. She’s come all the way to Ballykirk from America.”
“America? I have a cousin in America. He lives in Boston. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you? His name is Bobby McPhee.”
She glanced over at Riley. “I’m afraid not. I live a long way from Boston. In Wisconsin.”
“Sit,” he said. “I just put a pot on. I’ll be right back.”
She and Riley took a spot on the sofa. Riley took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Nan reached into her pocket and pulled out the photo and looked down at it. What were the odds he’d remember a girl from twenty-seven summers ago? Yes, her mother had been an American, so she might have stood out as different. But after so many years?
When Jimmy returned, he poured them all a cup of tea, then passed around a plate of cookies. Nan was too nervous to drink or eat and as soon as he settled himself in a comfortable chair, she held the photo out to him.
“I was hoping you’d remember the people in this snapshot,” she said. “It was taped up on the wall of the pub. It was taken about twenty-seven years ago.”
He took the picture and studied it for a long time, then pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on.
“They would have been in their early twenties,” Nan continued.
“This would have been about 1984,” Riley added. “About eight years before my da bought in to the pub.”
Jimmy cocked his head to the side, as if he were trying to retrieve a memory from deep in his mind. He pointed to the photo, tapping at it. “One of these boys looks familiar. What was his name? Oh, he was a chancer, that one. He lived out on that farm the other side of Trafask, just around the big bend on the Glengarriff Road.”
“Where the Donnelys live? The place with the pond?”
“That’s it,” he said. “He used to work one of the fishing boats out of Ballykirk. Now what was his-ah, there it is. Tiernan. His name was Tiernan Findley.”
Nan sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re sure? Tiernan?”
“Sure I am. And his da was Carey.”
Her pulse quickened and she had to remind herself to breathe. What did this mean? Had her mother named her after this boy? And why would she have done that?
“I remember him and his da hanging about the pub. He was there one summer and then he was gone. I remember something of a drowning.”
“Do they still live on the farm?” Riley asked.
Jimmy shook his head. “As I recall, his da sold the farm maybe fifteen years ago. Don’t know where he went. But you could ask Kenny Craig. He leased his land before Findley sold.”
Nan’s mind was spinning, wondering what this boy named Tiernan had meant to her mother. Were they just friends? Or had they been more? And why would she have chosen to name her only child after a boy she met in a pub in Ballykirk, Ireland? A horrible thought occurred to her. What if Tiernan had died in the accident and she’d been named in his memory?
The possibilities began to overwhelm her and she felt the room closing in on her. She quickly stood. “I-I have to go,” she murmured. “It was a pleasure meeting you, but I have to go.” She stumbled over Riley’s feet as she squeezed past him and headed for the door.
“I’ll be going, too, Jimmy. But thanks.”
