Page 10 of Once upon a Summer Night

“You know Ireland isn’t part of the UK, right?” she whispered, looking around in mock fear.

He laughed, then brushed his hands on his jeans as theflame took shape. Pulling up an identical chair to hers, he replied, “I’m well aware of that fact. Every time my cousin—the one who owns this house—comes to the States, my father loves to tease him about how it’s only a matter of time before the Irish succumb to the lure of the English.”

“If your cousin is a true Irishman, he must rise to the bait every time.”

“Of course. It’s what makes it so amusing for my father. Do your parents live nearby?”

“No.”

He didn’t press her. “So what do you do in London, Rose?”

She toyed with her necklace before answering. “I work at a library.”

Colin sat forward. “Rose, the point of conversation is to answer with at least some detail. Otherwise, it’s hard to get to know you…and I admit to wanting to get to know you a little.”

“A library in a university,” she hurried to add.

He raised an eyebrow, and she laughed.

“You make me nervous,” she blurted out. “Oh, damn. Sorry. Let’s pretend I didn’t say that. I can never keep my mouth shut when it matters.”

It was his turn to laugh. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about here. Like I said—American, remember? Be forthright. Let down that English guard of yours and be yourself. I’ve already judged you.”

“You have?” she asked, affronted.

“I have. And I find you an intriguing mix of half-truths and stark honesty. I wonder what you are really like…We may never meet again, Rose, so perhaps you can let your hair down a bit? I promise not to get you drunk or lure you into bed. I like your company, and as I have nowhere to be, and I’m hoping you also have nowhere to be, that we can enjoy each other’s conversation for as long as you would like to stay.”

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “You really are forthright, aren’t you?”

“It’s the best part about my culture,” he replied. He winked. “Well, that and football.”

She took another thoughtful sip, and Colin could almost see the wheels turning in her head. He hoped she would take him up on his offer. He knew from experience that English women weren’t cold or snobbish, although they were portrayed that way on television at home. He knew them to be warm, witty, and kind, once you earned their trust enough for them to let their guards down a bit.

Usually, he had more than a few hours to earn that trust, but he had to make do with what he was given. And he couldn’t let Rose walk out of his life yet; he needed more information so that he could find her again. The pull toward her was one he couldn’t control, even if he wanted to. The fact that he didn’t want to should have made him pause. The fact that it didn’t should have made him run in the other direction.

He made her nervous? Hell, she frightened the living daylights out of him.

“I’m a simple person. I like reading, and rain, and quiet nights home,” she said.

Colin highly doubted she wassimple, but he didn’t interrupt her.

“I’m terrible at small talk.”

“You’re doing fine with me,” he noted. The look on her face told him she hadn’t realized she was until that moment, and he wondered at her surprise. “Perhaps you’re at your best when you’re nervous.” He wagged his eyebrows at her, and she chuckled.

“Hardly. I’m usually walking into things, such as open doors, when nerves strike. Hmm.” She took a thoughtful sipof the stout and considered him, but then her eyes slid past him. “Poppies!” she exclaimed suddenly.

He frowned and resisted the urge to look behind him lest she dart away; he would lose her company forever. “Poppies? Is that a British football team?”

She flashed a true smile at him, and his stomach flipped as though he were a fifteen-year-old boy whose crush had finally noticed him.

She laughed. “No, of course not. But your cousin, the Irishman. He has poppies growing in his garden.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “There’s a lot of dissension between some of the English and the Irish. The Irish think poppies in Ireland are a sign of disrespect to the Irish veterans.”

“How so?”

Rose went on to tell him exactly why, but Colin didn’t hear a word of it. Instead, he noted her intelligence, the sparkle in her eyes, the cadence of her voice. The way the light breeze gently lifted the ends of her hair, as if daring him to touch it and see if it was as soft as it looked. Her animated hands, used to accentuate her words, only stilled when her mouth stopped moving.

He was fascinated.

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