Page 28 of Back in the Saddle

“There’s nothing wrong with being observant,” I remarked. Even though I found his sleeping horse antics amusing.

“If I wasn’t observant, I would never have noticed your mother drifting down Liffey River.”

“And you two wouldn’t exist,” Mum said.

“And that would be a tragedy,” Ciaron said, smiling at them both.

“A big tragedy,” I agreed. “We would have no one to tell this story to.”

Not kissing Ciaron would have been a tragedy. Missing out on loving him would be a tragedy. And missing out on sex with him?—

“Keep going, Mum,” Callum said. He and Isabelle shared a look.

I shifted in my seat. I needed to keep my mind on the task at hand.

Running footsteps approached.I turned to see Laoise, my eight-year-old half-sister, a red-haired girl with pigtails, running up to us. My seven-year-old half-brother, Sean, was right behind.

“Who are you?” she asked Ciaron.

I tensed. Did she have to be so rude? OK, maybe I was overreacting. Kids were always curious and forthright with their questions.

“This is my friend Ciaron,” I said.

She looked him up and down with a screwed-up mouth, like she had tasted something sour. “Who said you could bring friends to my house?”

I wanted to screw my face up at her. Rude little shit.

“I’m not just Taylor’s friend. I’m her boyfriend.”

She shot off hollering for our father. Sean followed her lead.

I stared after her, not moving my feet to follow. “That was my sister Laoise. Pleasant, isn’t she?”

He rolled his eyes, then took my hand. “Best we go meet my future in laws.”

I chuckled and led him towards the house. Dinner would not be boring with him there. And playing the game of being an engaged couple would add some excitement.

“This is going to be a shit storm,” I said.

He shrugged. “It depends on them.”

My father, a big, burly, brown-haired man, came out of the house. He puffed his chest out as he strode towards us. Orla, his wife, was in his wake, struggling to keep up with him, her face red and patchy. Orla’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Ciaron, and her brow furrowed. Their eyes flicked between me and Ciaron and then our hands. My father was much better at hiding his distaste than Laoise was. But his tight lips gave him away.

“Dad, Orla, this is Ciaron Murphy. Ciaron, this is my dad, John and his wife, Orla.”

Ciaron stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Dad shook it gruffly and then addressed me. “Your sister said he’s your boyfriend.”

I nodded and smiled at Ciaron. He squeezed my hand and gave me a wink. It lit me up from the inside. This man gave me the first bit of comfort and joy I’d felt since I’d arrived in Ireland.

“She wants to take it slow, but she will be my betrothed by the end of the week.”

Orla’s mouth dropped open. She recovered quickly and snapped it shut. Dad grunted and turned on his heel. So typical. I wanted to roll my eyes, but saw that Orla was studying usclosely. Her gaze lingered on Ciaron’s jacket and boots and then strayed to his old car. She smirked. I clenched my teeth. Judgemental bitch.

“Come in, Ciaron. Any friend of Taylor’s is a friend of ours.”

She led the way into the house, her chin high. A shit storm was coming alright.

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