Page 7 of Once upon a Summer Night

The church bell tolled again, shaking Ellie from her thoughts. She honestly didn’t care if the company succeeded or failed. She was ready to take that first step into dating, and they could help her with that. Perhaps they wouldn’t find herthe love of her life, but they could potentially offer her a stable relationship, one that wouldn’t result in heartbreak when it ended.

Her phone buzzed loudly, startling her, and she glanced at the text.

The press has been notified. Your picture is on the front of the entertainment section of theTelegraph. You look like a pretty woman dressed for a funeral. Go buy some clothes that show the real you. Xoxo W

She laughed. If her aunt could see her now, in her long cotton skirt and gorgeous Irish-knit sweater, she would most definitely approve. Her hair loose, no glasses, just a touch of ocean breeze…and an unreserved smile.

She felt happy here. Happy and free to be the Ellie that she knew she was, but never had the courage to be in London. When people realized who she was, they immediately assumed she was either a social climber (because of Andrew) or an opinionated and loud woman (because of her aunt). She let her guard down for three people: Winnie, her best friend Gwen, and Andrew.

A boat’s horn blew from far off, and Ellie stared at the sea for a moment longer. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to be happy. And she knew she could be both, if she gave herself a chance.

The horn blew again, as if agreeing with her, and she made her decision. With the next person she met, she was going to practice being herself. She was going to laugh and enjoy herself, and not tuck herself away in a corner, determined to blend into the wall.

With that, she headed out the door for her daily walk, her head high and a smile on her face.

Until she tripped over the doorjamb.

Perhaps I ought to lower my head a little and watch where I’m going.

No. No head lowering. She was ready for a change, and it started now.

Reilly turnedhis car down the long dirt road to his cottage. “Glad you’re here, mate. It’s been too long.”

Colin grinned. “Aw. Did you miss me?”

“I missed your swordplay,” Reilly snorted. “That’s about it, though.”

Colin smacked him on the back of the head, and Reilly laughed. Another half mile and his charming thatched-roof cottage came into view. Colin always appreciated how simplistic Reilly made it; decades ago, when he first designed it, he insisted that it look as though it could fit into any century in Irish history. Built solidly of cob and thatch and surrounded by wildflowers, the cottage could’ve graced any number of fairy tale book covers.

Most of Reilly’s visitors, however, were harder to believe in than any fairy tale character.

“Home sweet home,” Reilly said, cutting the engine. “I didn’t make up your bed. You know where the linens are.”

“Linens?” Colin echoed. “We’re calling themlinensnow? You’ve gone all fancy on me, Ry.”

“Sheets, linens, blankets…doesn’t matter to me. Grab some and sleep with the horseflesh.”

“Shove off,” Colin laughed, grabbing his suitcase from the trunk. “Any other houseguests?”

Reilly glanced up at the second-floor windows. “None lately. I’ve enjoyed the respite.”

They trudged to the house and Reilly opened the unlocked door. He figured if anyone tried to break in, they’d have a hell of a time figuring out what to steal. He didn’t own electronics, he made his own rustic furniture, and the only thing of value (he claimed) was the thatch on his roof. Andstealing that, he always pointed out, didn’t require anyone to open his front door.

He also wanted to ensure that anyone who wandered out from his forest had a safe place to lay their heads before he helped them with their journeys. And those people, as Colin knew from experience, needed to be eased into modern-day life. As a Protector, it was Reilly’s—and Colin’s—duty to aid those who found themselves out of their time.

“It’s been months since we traveled anywhere,” Colin reminded him. “You know it’s only a matter of time.”

“With me, everything’s a matter of time,” Reilly grumbled. “Go unpack, then we’ll head to the pub for some dinner. I’m starved—that ridiculous tea shop Emma insisted on provided no real sustenance.”

Colin rubbed his belly. “No joke. Why do we humor her?”

“Because she’s a sweetheart and we adore her.”

“True.” Colin hefted his suitcase and climbed the stairs. “I’ll meet you there in a while; I need one of their burgers. But I have some work I have to do, to prep for my meeting tomorrow.”

Reilly didn’t answer; the only response Colin received was the sound of tires crunching gravel as Reilly headed to the pub.

An hour later, Colin shut down his laptop and wedged it under the mattress. He didn’t care what Ry thought about thieves—he didn’t want to take any chances.

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