Page 9 of Irish Rose
She felt abruptly as foolish as she’d claimed not to be. Damn it, she would have kissed him, and she knew he was well aware of it. “Well, you’re wasting mine now. I’ll say good night.”
Why hadn’t he kissed her? Burke asked himself as he watched her rush back to the inn. He’d wanted to badly. He’d imagined it clearly. For a moment, when the moonlight had fallen over her face and her face had lifted to his, he’d all but tasted her.
But he hadn’t kissed her. Something had warned him that it would take only that to change the order of things for both of them. He wasn’t ready for it. He wasn’t sure he could avoid it.
Taking a last puff, he sent the cigar in an arch into the night. He’d come to Ireland for horses. He’d be better off being content with that. But he was a man on whom contentment rarely sat easily.
She’d come late on purpose. Erin rolled her bike to the kitchen entrance of the inn and parked it. She knew it was prideful, but she simply didn’t want Dee to know she worked there. It wasn’t the paperwork and bookkeeping that bothered her—that made her feel accomplished. It was her kitchen duties she preferred to keep to herself.
Mrs. Malloy had promised not to mention it. But she tut-tutted about it. Erin shrugged that off as she entered the kitchen. Let her tut-tut, as long as that was all she let out of her mouth.
Dee and her family were visiting in town through the morning. That had given Erin time to clear up her chores at home, then ride leisurely from the farm to handle the breakfast dishes and the daily cleaning. Since the books were in order, she’d be able to take a few hours that afternoon to drive out to the farm where her cousin had grown up.
It wasn’t being deceitful, she told herself as she filled the big sink with water. And if it was, it couldn’t be helped. She wouldn’t have Dee feeling sorry for her. She was working for the money; it was as simple as that. Once enough was made, she could move on to that office position in Cork or Dublin. By the saints, the only dishes she’d have to clean then would be her own.
She started to hum as she scrubbed the inn’s serviceable plates. She’d learned young when there was work to be done to make the best of it, because as sure as the sun rose it would be there again tomorrow.
She looked out the window as she worked, across the field where she’d walked with Burke the night before. Where she’d danced with him. In the moonlight, she thought, then caught herself. Foolishness. He was just a man dallying with what was available. She might not be traveled or have seen big cities, but she wasn’t naive.
If she’d felt anything in those few minutes alone with him, it had been the novelty. He was different, but that didn’t make him special. And it certainly didn’t warrant her thinking of him in broad daylight with her arms up to the elbows in soapy water.
She heard the door open behind her and began to scrub faster. “I know I’m late, Mrs. Malloy, but I’ll have it cleared up before lunch.”
“She’s at the market, fussing over vegetables.”
At Burke’s voice, Erin simply closed her eyes. When he crossed over and put a hand on her shoulder, she began to scrub with a vengeance.
“What are you doing?”
“I’d think you’d have eyes to see that.” She set one plate to drain and attacked another. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m behind.”
Saying nothing, he walked over to the stove and poured the coffee that was always kept warm there. She was wearing overalls, baggy ones that might have belonged to one of her brothers. Her hair was down, and longer than he’d imagined it. She’d pulled it back with a band to keep it out of her face, but it was thick and curly beyond her shoulders. He sipped, watching her. He didn’t quite know what his own feelings were at finding her at the sink, but he was well aware of hers. Embarrassment.
“You didn’t mention you worked here.”
“No, I didn’t.” Erin slammed another plate onto the drainboard. “And I’d be obliged if you didn’t, either.”
“Why? It’s honest work, isn’t it?”
“I’d prefer it if Dee didn’t know I was washing up after her.”
Pride was another emotion he understood well. “All right.”
She sent him a cautious look over her shoulder. “You won’t tell her?”
“I said I wouldn’t.” He could smell the detergent in the hot water. Despite the years that had passed, it was still a scent that annoyed him.
Erin’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “Thank you.”
“Want some coffee?”
She hadn’t expected him to make it easy for her. Still cautious, but less reserved, she smiled. “No, I haven’t the time.” She turned away again because he was much easier to look at than she wanted him to be. “I, ah, thought you’d be out by now.”
“I’m back,” he said simply. He’d intended to grab a quick cup and leave, take a leisurely walk around town or duck into the local pub for conversation. He studied her, her back straight at the sink, her arms plunged deep into the soapy water. “Want a hand?”
She stared at him this time, caught between astonishment and horror. “No, no, drink your coffee. I’m sure there’re muffins in the pantry if you like, or you might want to go out and walk. It’s a fine day.”
“Trying to get rid of me again?” He strolled over and picked up a dishcloth.
