Page 2 of An Irish Kiss
He barked and scooted under the large trees that displayed giant purple flowers every May.But as the frantic wiggling and tail wagging continued, she realised she might have to help.Ah, just the look she was going for.And while her black runners were waterproof, she didn’t fancy getting them muddy.Not when she still had to look professional for her shift this afternoon.
Oh well.There was nothing for it.She lowered and joined Rover in crawling under the bush, wincing as the low branches clawed her face and hair, and cold mud seeped into the knees of her black trousers.Wonderful.She tugged the ball free from where it was firmly wedged in a spider web-strewn branch, and wriggled back out the way she’d come.
Only to hear the disconcerting sound of muffled laughter, and Rover’s sharp barks as he lunged at the intruder, which soon saw the laughter die.
“Hey, good boy.”The man held out a hand for Rover to sniff, then lick.
Traitor.
She peered up, a little higher until blue eyes of Superman-intensity forced her to still.Swallow.Her stomach tightened then released as a tingling sensation sped over then right through her.Oh my.Wasthishow Colin had felt when he’d first encountered Kara?
She continued to stare at the man, whose amusement hadn’t quite left, judging from his smirk as he took in her appearance from head to toe.Still she couldn’t look away.
His left eyebrow rose.“Can I help you?”
She blinked.Judging from that accent, he was Australian, but most unlike the tanned beach-blonde babe she was used to seeing on TV shows and film screens.With that dark hair and blue eyes he could be the spitting image of her great grandfather, her great grandfather who was pure Irish and whose portrait stood in the family wing.And for all this spine-tingling awareness, it didn’t change one simple fact.What was he doing here?“Uh, this is private property.”
His other eyebrow lifted.“But these are public walking trails, aren’t they?”
She pointed to the path.“That section is public, but this part isn’t.You’re trespassing.”
“It’s a resort, right?”
“Well, yes.But for paying guests.”And given the man’s ripped jeans and Thin Lizzy t-shirt, he didn’t look the sort to say—
“I’m a guest.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m a guest,” he repeated, enunciating each word slowly, as if he was used to people misunderstanding him.
“A guest where?”Certainly not here.Handsome young man might not be a check box on their accommodation forms, but she knew no single man had booked in today.She crossed her arms.“I’ve heard the pub in town is quite comfortable.They do a nice pie and Guinness meal deal on weekday nights you would probably enjoy.”
“Wow.”He muttered something and looked away, all sign of amusement long gone.“Gee Louise…” He shook his head.
“My name isn’t Louise.”
He snickered, then backed up a step, hands up in front of him.“I knew this was a mistake.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He shook his head again, muttered something else she couldn’t hear, then turned on his heel and left.
Leaving her wondering what had just happened.Who he was.What this strangest of sensations was.And whether she’d ever see the man again.
* * *
Wasit too late to cancel his booking?
Aidan Quinn peered back at the woman who still studied him, arms crossed.The woman wearing muddied knees and what looked like half a tree in her wild red hair.If she hadn’t looked part woodland elf he likely would have been more offended at her comments, the way she’d eyed him like she thought him delusional for insisting he was a guest at the Castle Griffin Hotel.And okay, getting offended probably wasn’t exactly what Jesus would do—although he had serious doubts that Jesus would spend as much money as Aidan planned to in order to stay at a fancy schmancy hotel like this.
Still, he’d promised his grandmother he’d stay at the place she’d always longed to.And the fact that he’d always hated how people misjudged him, and now took perverse delight in subverting their expectations, meant he wasn’t going to stay at the pub in town, no matter how strongly the redhead seemed to think he should.
What did it matter what she thought, anyway?She looked like a junior member of staff, with her wild hair, dirty clothes, and snooty attitude.She certainly wasn’t the kind of person who would have any real clout.She probably worked in the kitchen or laundry or whatever.Which sounded a little like he’d watched too many episodes ofDownton Abbey—and thanks to Gran and his sister he’d watched more episodes than any self-respecting Aussie bloke ever should have—but it didn’t change the fact that it was unlikely he’d ever see her again.Which suited him just fine.
He reached his hire car and retrieved his bags.Two weeks in glorious Ireland, home of his forebears.And he had all the time he wanted to tracking down his ancestors and learning more of the story his grandmother had requested on her sickbed.
“For I feel it in my bones that you should learn what you cannow.It’s only when we understand the past that we can be best prepared for the future.”
