Page 14 of Taming Irish

“When they’re not touring. So, what do ye say, want to meetthem?”

“Rock stars aren’t really mything.”

She laughs. “Rock stars areeveryone’sthing.”

“Not everyone’s. Trust me. I’ve seen what the whole celebrity thing can do to aperson.”

One eyebrow raises at me when she glances away from the road. “Spill.”

I don’t usually talk about Chad. Avoid it any chance I can. But as we drive, I find myself sharing everything with Nora. Everything but Chad’s name. Not that it would be difficult for her to find out. All she’d have to do is a quick Google search on me and find out that the man I was married to is this month’s Hollywood Candy choice for newest celebritycrush.

“He sounds like a class-A asshole,” Nora says, two hours later when we pull to a stop in front of a smallcottage.

“Yeah. I can agree withthat.”

“This is ye,” she says, opening her door and getting out of thecar.

The cottage looks exactly like the pictures I’d seen online. Gray stone covered by moss and green vines surrounds a garden of purple and yellow flowers that grow wild. Behind the house are hills, outlined by stone walls, dotted withsheep.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, sucking in a deep breath of fresh, crispair.

Nora helps me bring my bags inside, then hands me a paper with her number on it. “I’ll let ye get settled. But call me if ye need anything. I live with my Ma just down the road, and I can drive ye to the mart if ye need groceries, or to the pub if ye’re ever looking for a bit offun.”

When she’s gone, I walk around the cottage. There isn’t much to it. Just a kitchen, a small living room, a bathroom with a tub and no shower, which I find a bit disconcerting, and abedroom.

The bed calls tome.

I take my shoes off and crawl into it, pulling a homemade quilt over me and closing my eyes. I have every intention of exploring this beautiful country. But, right now, all I have energy for issleep.

Closing my eyes, I repeat Quinn’s mantra in myhead.

New dreams. New life. Newme.

There’s still a tremor of anxiety that lives constantly in my chest, but for the first time in what seems like forever, there’s a flutter of excitement inside me, too. But I’m not sure if it’s from being here in Ireland, or from the image of the Irish god that floats through my thoughts as sleep pulls me into dreams of all the promises I’d seen in those intoxicating sageeyes.

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