Page 14 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“All those blows to the head are finally taking their toll, it seems. You barely recall anything these days,” Siobhan said in exasperation.
“Gavin doesn’t forget everything. He texted me about the welcome party for Bets’ relation,” said a tall silver-haired man, entering the parlor with two bottles of whiskey in hand. Liam followed him and held up the dripping bag of ice, making Bets cluck about her rug.
Angie eyed the newcomer. His bearing was regal, what with the way his shoulders rested back and his chest lifted. Hard muscles were evident under his clothing, and from his tanned hands and face, she’d guess he worked outdoors.
“What are we talking about?” he asked.
“The relationship status of Bets’ relation,” Gavin said, crossing and taking a bottle from him. “You brought the good stuff.”
“Of course! Bets’ relation deserve a grand welcome. Regarding their status, one is recently widowed. The other is divorced and has what the poets would call a tempestuous affair with love.”
Angie couldn’t help laughing. “Tempestuousisa word for it. In the States I simply call it an affliction of the Wrong Man Syndrome.”
“It’s happened to the best of us,” Siobhan said with a conspiratorial smile before gesturing to Gavin, who made a face in response.
“Not to my wife,” said the man with the whiskey. “I’m Killian Donovan, Nicola’s man. She’s told you she owns the best bookstore in town, hasn’t she?”
“It’s the only bookstore,” the woman said, shaking her head at him.
“Nice to meet you,” Angie said, hoping she could remember everyone’s names.
“Some days it’s nice to meet him,” Nicola said, playfully frowning at him when he leaned in for a kiss, which she laughingly dispensed moments later.
“She likes to make me wait for it, just like my horses,” Killian said. “I breed them, you see.”
After her encounter with the sheep, Angie realized she was on the path for serious farm talk, so different from what she was used to in the city.
Bets gestured knowingly to the bottle he still held. “Well, I see you brought whiskey, Killian.”
“It’s customary to bring a bottle, and I brought one for Gavin too. Seamus sends his regards from the butcher shop. He’s Brigid’s husband, but he’s tied to his meat counter right now. I heard you met their two sons today already.”
Angie blinked. “We did?”
Brigid folded her hands at her waist, her lips twitching. “Our boys are Carrick and Jamie. Of the troublesome sheep. A rarity, I promise.”
“It better be!” Bets gestured to the ceiling. “I have enough problems with Donal. If any sheep prevents me from winning the rose competition, I’ll make lamb roasts of them myself.”
“I keep expecting to see smoke come out of her ears,” Liam said with a laugh.
“Those are your sons?” Angie exclaimed, studying Brigid again for any similar features, and that’s when she saw it. He’d gotten his gorgeous thick eyelashes from her. Damn it, there she went again.
No. Men. Ever.
“They are,” the older woman said with a smile.
Well, this complicated things, didn’t it? Carrick’s mom was in her cousin’s inner circle, and his land abutted the cottage where they were staying. She could hardly keep away from him, inappropriate attraction or not. “Bets didn’t say anything.”
“I hadn’t gotten to it yet,” Bets said, patting her on the shoulder. “But let’s circle back to your plans for that whiskey, Killian.”
“I’m going to drink some with your relation,” the man said, “and welcome them to Ireland in a time-honored manner.”
“Liam, let’s be civilized and break out some glasses,” Gavin countered, twisting off the top of his bottle. “I’ll pour for the girls since I’m the professional in the group.”
“Girlsisn’t meant to be an offensive or sexist term, although you’ll hear it a lot,” Bets told them. “Bruce had to explain it to me.”
Angie touched her ear as if posing. “I decided to take it as a compliment to looking youthful.”
“Pish, what’s this?” Gavin elbowed Killian. “Theyaregirls, aren’t they? What could be wrong with calling them that?”
