Page 13 of Highballs & Hexes

Slapping his hands over his junk, he scowled his ire. “What the feckin’ hell do you think you’re doing, bursting into a strange man’s room the way ya are?” he demanded.

“I grew worried when you failed to show up. And I knocked, but you didn’t answer.” She’d yet to tear her curious gaze away from his nakedness, and his body’s reaction, although natural, was embarrassing.

“Come in if you’re so intrigued by my cock or get out. But don’t stand there with the feckin’ door open for all of sundry to see, yeah? I’m proud of what I own, but not that much.”

She giggled. Flat out giggled like a schoolgirl peering into the boys’ locker room and getting an eyeful.

“Never doubt I’m intrigued, Patrick O’Malley, but I’ll be leaving you to dress, all the same.” She cast his body a regretful glance and sighed. “Maybe after a time, I can get a closer look.”

Fionola sailed out the door, closing it behind her. It did nothing to muffle her laughter from the other side. Funny thing about that laughter—it triggered his. And he flopped back on the mattress and let loose until tears were streaming from his eyes.

When he’d sobered, he brushed away the moisture alongside his temples and tried to recall when he’d last found true humor in anything. The answer wasyears. Well before Loman had imprisoned and murdered him. Farther back still, to right beforehe’d learned Rose was unhappy and spreading her thighs for anything with a third leg. It seemed he’d forgotten how to enjoy life. And wasn’t that tragic? It boiled down to two people altering his fate, crushing his spirit, and making him miserable.

But it had taken only one person to spark a fire in him again.

Fionola Bohannon.

And though he was older than her by at least twenty years and witches like them didn’t age in the way of standard mortals, Patrick felt at least five times that. But he could appreciate her natural beauty and unfailingly kind heart. Her saucy personality didn’t hurt either.

As he showered and dressed, he considered distancing himself from her. Being close to her was too dangerous, making him feel and desire more than he should. She wasn’t for him, and the truth of it was disheartening.

Fifteen minutes after she’d barged into his room, Patrick met Fionola downstairs in the inn’s kitchen, where Bridget was cleaning up the last of the breakfast dishes.

“Why not use your shiny new magic, me love?” he asked, giving her a peck on her flawless cheek. He desperately wanted to turn back time and ruffle her brilliant ginger hair like when she’d been a small girl, but grown-up Bridget might knock him into next week.

“Habit,” she said simply. “And it keeps me busy. You know I’m not one who loves to be idle, Da. It would send me round the bend.”

“Aye. But you should take your young man and enjoy a day or two away. Let your good-for-nothing brothers run things for a weekend, yeah?”

“Ach! And we do our fair share,” Cian protested laughingly as he rose from the table. “But it’s never as good as Bridget prefers, to be sure.”

“Because you’re a lazy scut, Cian O’Malley.” Bridget tossed a dish towel at his head. “But dry if you’ve a mind.”

Fionola sipped tea as his family teased each other. Her expression was one of sadness, with worry creeping in along the edges.

“We’ll find Tadhg,” Patrick assured her.

“What’s this?” Cian paused in conjuring a magical windstorm to dry dishes and returned to the table. “Who’s Tadhg?”

“My brother. He’s been missing for a week now.” Although her voice cracked, Fionola lifted her chin, and grim determination entered her soulful eyes. “Your father has agreed to help me find him.”

With a confused frown, Cian looked at him. “Da? When did you start investigating missing people? And why didn’t you ask me? I’ve connections through the Witches’ Council.”

“Because the boy’s running scared,” Patrick snapped. “And since when do I need you to do my work for me?”

Cian stepped back and expressed shock at the vehement response. Indeed, they all appeared surprised by his surliness, Fionola included, and Patrick felt like an arse for allowing his temper to get the better of him.

“Yeah, and it’s sorry I am for being a bear.” Going to the medicine cabinet, he opened the door. “Bridget, me love. Where’s the potion to make me right as rain?”

“I’m cooking a new batch, Da. It’s cooling on the range.”

After grabbing a mug from the drainboard, he spooned his granny’s elixir into it and shot it straight. The taste was appalling, but the magical mixture was fast-acting and would cure what ailed him within minutes.

When he glanced up, two pairs of wary eyes watched him, as if waiting for another explosion. The only one who looked at him with understanding was Fionola, but hers was the hardest gaze to meet.

Still, he could use Cian’s connections if it meant locating Tadhg faster.

“Your help would be greatly appreciated, son. If you’ll sit a spell, we’ll tell ya what we know.”

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