Page 17 of An Irish Kiss
He pointed to a fairy house, one that she and Fiona and Aisling had set up years ago.“How many of these are there?”
She thought back to the walking trails map she’d helped design.“Ten, I think.”
“It’s sweet.”
Okay, sweet sounded better than cute, a word she’d always thought had an air of dismissiveness about it.“We set it up for the children who visit.”
“I bet they love it.”He glanced across at her again.
She offered a wry smile.“We might not have leprechauns but we do have fairies.”
He chuckled.“And we have bunyips and drop bears.”
“Really?”
As he told her about some of the Australian bush legends, she again found herself drawn to his easy manner.The way he could laugh at himself, his self-deprecation felt so familiar, his story-telling curling around her heart as much as his accent.
The hotel’s lights were aglow, drawing them like a beacon.It was technically not even twilight, but it felt much later, the rain and cloud and sea mist dimming the light.
She was laughing at another of his funny stories when they entered the hotel foyer, the sound bouncing off the flagstones and drawing Aisling’s gaze from where she stood behind the registration desk.
“Well, look what the guest dragged in.”She smirked.
Rory mimed zipped lips, which drew her sister’s giggle.Child.
Aidan turned to Rory.“Thanks again for coming to my rescue.”He handed her the umbrella.
She took it, her fingers grazing his.Energy zapped between them.
He seemed to recognise it too.“Whoa.Feel that?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Must be static electricity or something.”
Or something, perhaps.Like attraction.On her side, anyway.
She ducked her head, unable to look at her sister who was quietly sniggering away, as if well and truly aware of what was floating through Rory’s mind.She slipped off her hood, but it tugged at her hair, refusing to release.Darn, just like she’d suspected her hair was caught in the zip.She tugged harder.“Ow.”
Aidan glanced at her.“Are you stuck?”
“I’ll be fine.”Yet her tugs still refused her hair to release.
“Here, let me.”
He moved closer, standing beside her, his scent of sea-salt and spice as potent to her senses as the scent of coffee in the morning, as he gently worked the zip, a quick peek revealing his brow furrowed in concentration.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?”he asked softly.
“No,” she breathed, like a star-struck teen.
Her cheeks were probably getting close to her hair colour, judging from their heat.Nowaywould she glance at her sister, who might as well get some popcorn for the show.
She closed her eyes as he worked, willing herself to not sway towards him, forcing herself to take shallow breaths and not give in to the temptation to inhale his scent deeply.
This man was their guest.He was Australian.She might feel this weird sense of attraction around him, but she didn’t need to give into it.She was a grown woman, not a child at the mercy of every emotion or feeling.
He tugged one more time.“There.I think we got it.”
