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“Oh, sure. Thanks.” She sets her things down, takes off her jacket, and then lays it over top of her bag. “Your office is lovely. I suppose being a restauranteur, you spend a lot of time here.”
Restauranteur? Sure, let’s go with that.
“A fair bit, yes.”
The knock at the door is Ginny with our tea service. I open the door and point to the coffee table between the sofa and the glass wall. “Thank you, Ginny.”
“Of course. Do either of you need anything else?” She glances from me to the young lady and studies the brunette’s gaze expectantly. “Anything at all?”
Annoying.
There are only a handful of people who could get away with something so blatantly undermining without fear of retaliation. Ginny is one of them. Being the daughter of Da’s chief enforcer, we were raised as family.
Ginny’s got a kind heart and is obviously worried about my sudden interest in Miss O’Neill, but she also knows I’m a gentleman who lives by a certain code of conduct.
And in that vein, I remain quiet to let the lady decide how she wants to answer.
“I’m fine,” Laine says. “Thanks so much for bringing the tea. You’ve been wonderful.”
Ginny dips her chin and tucks her tray under her arm. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
When the door glides shut, the noise of the pub is abruptly cut off and the two of us are alone at last.
I gesture to the sofa, and she accepts the invitation and takes a seat. It seems being in the office has set her at ease somehow and I take that as a small win. When I approached her at the bar, it was obvious she wanted to leave, but I couldn’t let her go until I unraveled a little of the mystery of who she is and why I’m so captivated.
Leaning forward, I pick up the wooden box of specialty teas and offer them to her. “Anything you’d like to try?”
She peers into the box and starts to finger her way through the rows of packets. When she selects one, she plucks it free. “Oh, this sounds nice.”
“Peppermint chocolate. A good choice. I think I’ll join you in that.”
Once we have the two little pots steeping, I turn sideways on the sofa and lay my arm across the backrest. “So, tell me. Who is Miss Laine O’Neill and how is Dublin treating her?”
She brushes a swath of mahogany hair away from her face as her cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink. “Well, I only arrived this morning at seven, so other than a long nap and walking here from my inn, my Dublin experience has been rather uneventful.”
“Ah, then today’s yer first day in the city?”
“It is, and I think my brain is still hovering somewhere over the Atlantic.”
“So, first impressions, then?”
Her heated gaze studies me and she bites her bottom lip. “First impressions are good. I imagine Dublin will earn herself a 5-star review.”
I like the sound of that. “A woman with exceptional taste.”
She drops her gaze to stir her tea and then shifts on the sofa to face me.
“And why Dublin?”
She isn’t wearing a wedding ring, but her ring finger has a band of pale skin where a ring sat not long ago. If she’s come to the Emerald Isle in search of adventure after a bad situation, I’m exactly the man for the job.
“It’s a family trip.” She tilts her head toward her belongings on the table and the squat copper vase beneath the drape of her jacket. “Mom was born Kate O’Neill. Her parents moved from Brittas Bay to the U.S. when she was a teenager. She wanted to be brought home to be laid to rest, so here we are.”
Loyalty and family are the foundation upon which my life is built. The thought of traveling all this way to fulfill her mother’s dying wish warms something deep in my cold, dark heart.
“Well, welcome to you both, then. I hope yer mam finds peace returning to the land of her birth and you find a level of solace doing right by her wishes.”
She draws a deep breath and, though she seems sad, her strength shines through. “Losing a parent is hard.”
