Page 82 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“You’re early, and you dressed up too,” she shot back accusingly, gesturing to his navy suit and crisp white shirt. But no tie, a look she preferred. Men in the country only wore them to events like weddings, baptisms, or funerals.
He closed the distance between them, his large body blocking out the bright evening sunlight. “You thought I’d be late for our date? Haven’t I told you I’ve been waiting for this?” His scent, a spicy cologne of pine and citrus, wrapped around her as he lightly kissed her cheek.
The touch was electric and shocking, so she shot back quickly, “Everyone runs on country time, remember? There’s always some farm or animal incident.”
Bets fisted her hands at her sides as he lingered close.
“You wore perfume too,” he said, his face close to her neck. “Good. This is all very encouraging.”
Encouraging? “It’s bug spray, Donal.”
He coughed out a reluctant laugh. “Of course it is. Can we just admit we wanted to look and smell good for each other?”
“No,” she said, pushing past him to the door of the restaurant, but he opened it for her before she could do it herself. “You open doors for women?”
“I realize men in Ireland aren’t the same as in America, but give me a little credit. I know how to court a woman. What did Bruce do? Throw you over his shoulder in the beginning?”
Pretty much, and truth be told, that twenty-eight-year-old girl had enjoyed the alpha approach. “Bruce wasn’t one for opening doors, and neither are most of the Irishmen I know.”
“Well, now you know me.” He murmured to the hostess about their reservation, and she led them to a table in the corner. “Excuse me. Can we have the table by the window? My date would like the view of the street.”
How had he known that?she thought as they settled into their chairs.
“Bets, you look beautiful in your orange dress.” He leaned back in his chair as if he were an Irish king. “Like a bird of paradise.”
Did she look beautiful? She wasn’t a girl anymore. She was sixty, and that was the woman she’d looked at in the mirror as she’d gotten ready. “An exaggeration, but a kind one.”
He took her hand, leaning forward, and shocked her by raising it to his mouth. This wasn’t a quick pass of the lips. No, they lingered on the back of her hand. Her body flushed with heat as their eyes held. God, she wanted to fan herself, and from the way his mouth quirked to the right, he knew he was bothering her.
“How was your day at the farm?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No talk about farming or sheep. I actually thought it might be nice if we pretended we were on a blind date.”
She blinked. “Donal, you’ve known me for thirty years.”
“I figure there’s a million things I don’t know about you.” He tilted his head to the side, studying her. “You’re an open woman, Bets. Being a Lucky Charm proves that. But you’re also a private woman. That’s the woman I want to know.”
Her stomach trembled at the intimacy he wanted—and the sudden urge she felt to give it to him. “Donal, I really think we know everything.”
“Did you know I love tropical plants?” He shot her an exaggerated look. “Hence the bird of paradise comment. I love to garden.”
“You do not.” She narrowed her eyes. “Most farmers hate gardening. If the plant isn’t hay or grass for a sheep to eat, you don’t have an interest.”
“Come see my garden on your way home tonight.” His gaze lifted over her shoulder. “Oh, good. Here’s a little something to make you smile.”
She turned as the server brought over a gift bag. There was a twinkle in the woman’s eyes as she set it down, as if she enjoyed her role in their moment.
The server walked away, and Donal nodded to Bets, who pulled the present toward her. It smelled of roses. When she saw the yellow blossoms with the green edges sitting in a tightly packaged vase, she gasped. “Donal, this is the St. Patrick. I love this rose. Mine died a couple years ago when a tree came down in a storm. I haven’t been able to replace it.”
“So Liam mentioned.” He flashed her a cheeky smile. “Does it please you?”
“Yes, but where did you get it? I know which roses everyone grows in our village. Who let you cut these flowers?”
“That’s my little secret,” he said, kicking back again. “Are you ready for some champagne?”
“How did you know I liked this variety?” she asked, fingering the petals. “Wait! Did you pump Liam for information for our date?”
“Bets, I canvased everything I do know about you to make you feel special tonight.”
