Page 11 of Adrift

I should probably be careful. Maybe he’s the gossip king these days, and I don’t want to be the talk of the whole island…

“Oh, I don’tcreatethe gossip,” Kieran promises me, his eyes sparkling. “In fact, I’m very good at sneaking out quietly before dawn.”

“Mmhmm.” I don’t believe him a bit, but there it is on my face—another grin, before I even know that I’m smiling. “You finish the ice cream.”

“You sure?” He looks up at me with a grin. “This is my favourite kind of tip. Well… my second-favourite,” he smirks. “If you get my meaning.”

It’s hard to miss all his innuendo. “I think I do,” I tell him. “I’m just glad it’s not the third-best.”

“I’m also very happy about the third-best,” Kieran doesn’t miss a beat in telling me. “So is my landlord.”

I don’t know what it is about Kieran. I usually find it annoying when people are this cheerful and bright. But there’s something about it that just shines from the very depths of his soul.

I don’t think this is just an act he puts on to pick up guys. It really is who he is. Which means when he goes all shy and tongue-tied, I’m glimpsing something else entirely.

“So, you’re not a property developer?” Kieran asks, looking at the photos instead of me.

My jaw drops.

The smile disappears as I stare at the side of Kieran’s head.

“What? No. Do people think that?”

I stare at the map and my great-grandfather’s spindly handwriting, my shoulders slowly rising. It’s all I can do to keep my voice from constricting as much as my stomach just did.

Kieran stops and looks at me, then puts a hand on my arm. “Hey. What’s wrong, lover?”

Wait…lover? He doesn’t even look like he’s trying to flirt. Must be an Irish thing.

“It’s nothing,” I tell him, clearing my throat as I shake my head, looking away across the bar.

We both know it’s not true. Even the warmth and pressure of his hand on my arm doesn’t shake me out of it.

“Doesn’t look like nothing. Don’t hold it in.”

I grumble under my breath, rubbing at my forehead. “Do you have all day?”

Kieran pulls his hand away from me, but the disappointment that rises in me is tempered by the way he turns his chair a little to face me directly.

“Yeah. I do, actually.” He smiles at me, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

I feel stupid—weak, even—for getting so emotional about one little comment. But it’s so much more than that.

“It’s just… I’m not some fucking developer. I’mfromhere.” Then my scowl melts away as I sigh. “Well… my family is. I guess I’m not.”

Kieran tilts his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I’m here to save the orchard, not tear it down.” I clear my throat, but the thickness in my voice doesn’t budge. “It’s my family legacy.”

Kieran’s eyes slowly widen. “Ohhh. Wait. You’re a Russell?”

“Yeah.” I blink at him. “Gage Russell. How’d you know?”

Kieran holds up a finger and scrambles to the bar so fast that for a moment, I think I missed a ringing phone. But he’s standing on top of a crate, grabbing something from the liquor shelves behind the bar.

Even from across the room, I recognize it the shape.

“No way. Oh, wow.” I sit dead upright, my jaw dropping as he brings it back to me.

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