Page 5

Every person I passed on the street said hello. They waved and smiled, greeting me like I was a long lost cousin. The first two times I’d barely managed to tug my lips into anything resembling a smile. By the third person, I thought I had it down.

The little general store was tucked inside a bright red building, window boxes full of green herbs. I pushed inside, a wall of warmth flooding over me. I grabbed a basket and made my way through the store, tossing anything that looked good inside it.

“New to town?” The gruff voice came from behind me and I jumped, hand pressed to my chest. “Didn’t mean to scare ya, lass.” He held up his hands in surrender.

“You’re fine. You snuck up on me.”

He gave me a toothy grin, feet scuffing over the floors in a little shuffle. “The Irish step.” He tapped his temple, like it meant something kindred or otherworldly. “American?”

He was about two inches shorter than me with a thatch of reddish-brown hair that was cut close to his scalp. Pale skin, dozens of freckles, and the largest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

“Yes. I’m visiting from New York.”

“Ack, so you’re the one staying in Kilmorran. House like that doesn’t like to be empty. Needs some life brought back to it.” His brogue was thick, almost musical.

I shot a confused look his way. “I thought the family still lived there.”

“Barely. They maintain it, use it as a rental. If they could sell it, they would.”

My eyes widened. “Sell a place like that?” I asked in disbelief. “Why would they—”

“Lot of land. Plenty of maintenance. Someone put in a ‘no sell’ clause. If they did, all the money and assets would be gone. Shame, isn’t it? It’s a gorgeous piece of history if you ask me.” He snapped his fingers. “I’d take it myself if I could.”

I held out my hand. “Avery Eden.”

He shook, fingers rough and lined with calluses. “Tommy Fitzgibbons. Owner of this fine establishment. Pleased to know ya, Avery. How long are you staying for?”

“A while. I’m—I’m working on a novel.” The words were out before I could stop them.

True delight flickered across his features. “Is that right? What do you write? Anything I’d’ve read?”

I blushed, ducking my head. “I, uh, write romance.”

He whistled, that toothy grin on full display again. “You’ll need to write down the names for me. My wife loves a good bit of romance. Works out well for me, in the end.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

A startled laugh escaped me. “I’ll bring you a copy for her,” I promised.

“Oh, that’s mighty kind of you.”

I winked. “Anything to help the cause.”

A booming laugh escaped him. “Let’s get you sorted then, shall we?”

Tommy led me through the shop, carrying my basket when it became too heavy. He gave me pointers on which pubs to try, where to spend my free time, and where to walk if I wanted to see the coast and beaches.

I spent almost an hour in his shop. He asked me about my life and I forced the words out, tongue thick and slow in my mouth.

“What brings ya to Ireland then? The city is a beautiful place I hear.”

I chose my words carefully. “I’m stuck,” I confessed. “I don’t really know…I don’t know what to write. I feel like I’m…”

“Adrift,” he answered for me, nodding sagely. “Nothing like the sea to cure your ailments. You’ve chosen a good place. A nice town with some fine people. We take care of our own here.”

I flushed. “Oh, I’m not—”

“As long as your head rests in Kilmorran, you’re one of us. We’ll look out for you, Avery Eden.”

The words brought a rush of heat to the back of my throat.