Page 4 of Highballs & Hexes

“And haven’t I kept ya fed all these years, you ungrateful child?”

Laughing, Fionola whipped open the door and stopped short when she saw the visitor on the other side. Although she felt like a proper eejit, all she could do was stare at the man who had his fist raised to knock.

Tall, but not overly so, he had piercing green eyes and graying auburn hair. She couldn’t tell the shape of his body, whether dad-bod or fit, because he was swathed in a navy blue peacoat. Yet her overall impression was of a man who ran toward muscled. His expression was startled, but beneath theinstantaneous reaction, there was a worn quality to his visage, as if he constantly fought fatigue and lost.

Her need to hug him to her breast and stroke his thick, close-cropped hair while assuring him it would all be okay was as strong as she’d ever experienced. Granted, she didn’t know what his issues were or if they were on a larger scale than his ability to cope, but her desire to soothe was there, all the same.

“Well, what are ya waitin’ on, girl—Oh!” Mam quickly wiped her hands on her apron and swung the door wider, allowing her to see their visitor better. “What are ya after, then?” she asked him.

As if he had all day, his disturbing gaze traveled the length of Fionola’s body and returned to her face. A frown tugged at his brows.

She was proud when she finally rediscovered her voice. “Are you lost?”

With a shake of his head, he glanced between Mam and her. “I’m Patrick O’Malley. I’ve come about Tadhg Bohannon.”

“It was me you talked to. I’m Fionola Bohannon. Tadhg’s sister.” Fi glanced at the wall clock and grimaced. “You’re early, but I’m late for my shift. If you walk with me, I’ll fill you in.”

With another kiss to her mother’s cheek, she pushed past Patrick and started down the path, leaving him to follow if he intended. He’d disconcerted her. When they’d talked on the phone, she gave him directions to the pub, intending to tell him what she knew during her break. How he’d found their house was no mystery, though. It only took asking anyone in town.

Patrick fell into step beside her, but remained silent for three of her seven-minute walk.

“It’s a lovely sight,” he finally said, gesturing with his hand to the view of the village below them.

Since she was already late, she stopped at the overlook and absorbed her favorite scene. The rain had let up, and the fields were rich in color, greener from a good soaking.

“It is,” she agreed with a smile. “Is this your first time in this part of the country, then?”

“No.”

She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. With a shrug, she started down the road. “So, as I told you on the phone, my brother went missing.”

“Aye. I’ve come to help you find him.”

Her shoulders dropped in relief, and until that particular moment, she hadn’t realized her tension was so high. “What more do you need to know other than what I told you last night?”

“I’d like to see his flat.”

“Sure. I’ve a shift, but I’ll get Da to take you if he’s sober.”

“Thanks.”

Again, they fell into a comfortable silence as they traversed the road to the village. She had the ridiculous urge to clasp his hand, but shook it off.

“Are you married?” he asked in a gruff, seemingly seldom-used voice.

Fi jerked to a halt and gaped. It didn’t take him long to realize she’d stopped, and he spun back to stare at her. His dark brows snapped together, and he opened his mouth as if he intended to speak, but clamped his jaw shut the next instant.

What the hell?

What the bloodyhell was wrong with him?

Patrick didn’t know what demon had possessed him, but he was prepared to battle the fecker to death if only to stop it from doing stupid shite on his behalf. Still, he made a visual sweep ofher left hand, and the tension left his body when the lack of a wedding ring registered.

“Not married,” she said with a clipped tone and a sassy toss of her strawberry-blonde hair, as if irritated he’d asked. Yet her gaze sought his left hand, and his inner demon prompted him to pull it from his coat pocket and wave it in the air.

“There’s no commitment here, either.”

Her lips quirked, but she didn’t grace him with a smile as he’d hoped. “What matter is it of mine, Patrick O’Malley?”

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