Page 11 of Pints & Potions

Her explanation seemed to satisfy him, because his response was a nod and a wry smile.

“Cian?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you recognize the other guy there with us?”

His mouth tightened, but he shook his head. “No.”

The distinct feeling of being lied to settled around Piper’s shoulders, and she didn’t care for the sensation. Hell, if she were honest, she fucking hated it. Her two-timing ass-fart ex used to lie on a daily basis as if it were an Olympic sport he needed to practice for. Doug had definitely won the gold medal in the scum-sucking, yellow-belly, lying-snake event.

“What have I said wrong?”

She twisted to look at him. “Nothing.”

His lips quirked. “Then what have I said that wasn’t all-together right?”

Piper snorted a laugh, and the tension was broken. What had she expected? That he’d pour his heart out the second they’d met? They’d known each other less than twenty-four hours. “You’re fine, Cian. I’m in my own head at the moment. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Do we call it a day, or do we continue our journey?”

Giving it serious consideration, she decided they shouldn’t let what might’ve been a weird coincidence ruin their day. “I’ve always wanted to see the Cliffs of Moher.”

“It’s a bit of a drive, but the day’s still early yet.”

“If you’d rather not, I can come back on my own,” she offered.

Wrapping his large, calloused hand over hers, he lightly squeezed. “I’ve nothing pressing back home. Bridget and Ruairí have everything covered until this evening.”

“Ruairí? Wasn’t he one of the customers in the bar last night?” She cast him a frowning glance. “It didn’t seem as if they got along.”

“Not for want of trying on the poor man’s part.”

“Why does she hate him?”

“No one knows. As children, they were as thick as clover, much to the dismay of our parents. One day, she returned to the house in tears and refused to mention his name again.” He grimaced.

“He broke her heart,” Piper concluded.

“What makes you say that?”

“Tears and the refusal to mention his name? It’s not rocket science, Cian.”

He grunted.

“You’ve never once thought they might’ve had a romantic relationship?” she asked, curious how men could be oblivious about things of that nature.

“They were practically bairns,cailín.”

“How old was she when they had their falling out?”

Cian appeared to tally up the number. “Twenty, I suppose.”

“Not babies then. Old enough to have fallen in love.”

“My sister wouldn’t have been fool enough to fall for an O’Connor. Our family has been at war for nigh on two-hundred-fifty years or more. Not that Ruairí isn’t a decent guy—for an O’Connor.”

Piper smiled because his explanation wassomale. “Women don’t care anything for war games, silly man.”

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