Page 35 of Surrender
Maybe that was the real reason she came looking for Darcie.
Cian had given his life to protect Darcie. That was the kind of love that couldn’t be bought or faked. That was real. And Gwen, though she hated to admit it, had always wondered: would her father have done the same for her?
Maybe. There had been one moment...
She’d nearly forgotten, which was strange, because it was one of the worst days of her life. It was a garden party. A man had grabbed her—hard. She screamed. Her father was there in seconds, tearing him off her with fire in his eyes. That man, whoever he was, disappeared. Never to be seen again. She’d always wondered if Cian had done something.
But what mattered more was what came after: her father bringing her tea and her favorite chocolates, sitting by her bed while she cried. It was the only time he’d ever really looked at her like a father.
“Ruby?”
Gwen blinked, drawn back. “Hm?”
“You disappeared on me for a second.”
“I was just remembering my father,” she said softly. “He had a fancy home with a large garden. But everything was trimmed to perfection—every rose the same height, every hydrangea clipped just so, hedges so symmetrical it was almost unsettling. Not a single weed in sight. There were colors and scents, but somehow it all felt cold.” She glanced out again at the perfectly imperfect tangle of flowers. “This,” she laid her hand over his heart, “this feels like home.”
Someday, she would tell him what happened in that cold garden. Not because she owed him the truth, but because she wanted him to have it. Because she wanted to be known—fully, honestly, and without walls.
But not now.
Now, she just wanted to be here. In the sunshine. In his arms.
Keefe lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “If you’re free today, I was thinking we could pack a picnic and head to Ballydonegan Beach. Ever been?”
“No,” she said, perking up. “I haven’t.”
“It’s a whole other magical world on the peninsula. Windswept cliffs, bright green pastures, the wild Atlantic—plus, I know a place that makes the best burger you’ve ever had.”
She grinned. “Sounds divine.”
“So that’s a yes?”
If he’d suggested robbing a bank, she’d have said yes, just to stay by his side. For once, she was going to say yes to something she wanted.
Yes, to him.
Yes, to this.
Chapter 11
The drive to Ballydonegan Beach took just over an hour, the landscape growing wilder with every mile, winding past stone walls and hedgerows leaning under the weight of summer bloom. Sheep meandered across the road like they owned it, and Keefe slowed each time, grinning while offering exaggerated commentary in his poshest accent—which really just sounded like Julia Child demonstrating how to cook a chicken.
“Today, on this gorgeous Monday afternoon—with the sun splitting the stones and lighting a path toward Healy Pass, one of Ireland’s best-kept secrets—you’ll find some of the most breathtaking views of mountains and valleys. It’s also where the Scottish Blackface sheep roam freely, unapologetically claiming the road for themselves. Just be sure not to look one in the eye, or it might drop dead at your feet."
Gwen threw her head back and laughed.
She sat barefoot in the passenger seat, one leg curled under her, her red hair whipping in the breeze from the open window. Sunlight dappled her skin, making her hair burn like fire.
Keefe struggled to keep his eyes on the road. That smile—the way it lit up her whole face—and her laugh, low and unguarded, had him completely undone and he was already thinking, he’d give anything to be the reason she smiled like that every day for the rest of her life.
They talked, not like strangers awkwardly finding common ground, but like soulmates catching each other up on the years they had somehow spent apart.
“I quit smoking five years ago,” Gwen said as she twisted a stray thread on her sun dress. “Jesus but I still crave one after a hard day.”
Keefe glanced over, surprised. “Really? Me too.”
“Stop it. Really?” She mused for a moment just how well they fit together. “Mmm,” she hummed. “To stop myself, I took up making bread. Only problem is, I’ve yet to make one that doesn’t turn into a doorstop.”
