Page 67 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
She tried to form a smile. Her mouth moved, but it wouldn’t hold. So she rushed forward and kissed his cheek. The bike crashed to the ground, but she was back in a moment, picking it up and hopping on. “See you tomorrow.”
Her feet struggled to find the pedals before they finally latched on. She knew if she looked back, she would bobble and fall off the bike. But oh, how she wanted to catch one last glimpse of him.
“See you,” he called. Then, a moment later, “Angie.” He said it almost as an afterthought, as if it had stuck on his tongue for a moment.
She pedaled faster and realized she still held the rose, clutched to the handlebars. Looking at it, her smile formed and stayed at last.
The scent of oranges followed her home the entire way.
Chapter Twenty
They had five painting classes.
Five! Bets surveyed the new flyer Angie had helped her create. Her plans for a community arts center were taking shape quite well, she thought, kicking back in her new office chair. Mary Kincaid’s mean-spirited gossip couldn’t touch her now. The streaking had gone over as a bit of craic, and it had ignited a fire of goodwill in the village. Still, she hadn’t submitted her proposal for the arts center yet, wanting to collect more details for her proposal. Soon they’d be offering more kinds of creative arts.
She had a list of possible offerings they could expand into once they were greenlit. Siobhan was already game to teach some knitting. And perhaps Megan would agree to hold a ceramics class after all, as Kade—and Liam, she had to admit—continued to work their healing magic on her.
The audience should be there, especially after people heard about the new arts center at the agricultural fair. Best advertising around. Oh, she was pumped.
Bets pushed back from the desk she’d commandeered from the attic as a car rumbled up the driveway. Walking to the window, she spied the sleek black Mercedes.
Donal.
She thought of ignoring him, but that would be rude. Walking to the front door, she flung it open. “Glad to see you with clothes on.”
He gave her an infuriating grin—he cut a fine figure, damn him, nicely dressed in navy dress pants and a white shirt—and then ducked his head in the back seat. When he emerged, she gasped. “Oh, my God! What have you done? Is that Falling in Love?”
“Glad you recognize it,” he said, holding the potted beauty up and walking toward her. “I brought you one of the biggest roses in the world.”
Five-inch pink blooms! “I’m in love.”
He stopped in front of her. “Then it’s working and my prayers have been answered. I’ve reconsidered your proposal. I think we should get married, after all.”
She hoped he was kidding, but she couldn’t be sure. “You can’t mess with my mood, Donal,” she said, taking the potted rose from him. “Hello, beautiful. You and I are going to be the best of friends.”
“I figured you would win the flower competition at the agricultural fair this year for sure with this rose,” he said, fingering the petals. “Best be putting it in the ground. I can do that for you if you’d like.”
It was rather nice of him. Still, she said, “I have my own shovel, Donal.”
He muttered what sounded like a curse word. “As you wish. I’ve heard Mary Kincaid found a new hybrid, and she’s been feeding it a secret fertilizer since March, hoping to beat you.”
“I’ve heard the same. She’s been a pain about my roses and she’s had a go recently at being a pain about my art classes, but I won’t be stopped.”
“No, you won’t,” Donal said, looking off in the direction of her rose garden. “I worried my sheep might have harmed your beauties like you said. I thought they’d be safe since the weather was nippy and the roses hadn’t started putting on real growth yet. Stupid, I know. Blame it on my singular thoughts of you.”
That had her breath freezing in her chest.
“The thought of you not winning troubled me greatly. I want you to win! You had a smile on your face for three weeks at least when you won last year.”
He’d noticed that? She heaved out a sigh, as if beleaguered. “I’m touched by the gesture after all your sheep shenanigans.”
He snorted. “Bets, I know my way around those fairs. The committees are usually wowed by the bigger and better thing. Sheep or flowers. I hope you’ll accept this as an apology if you’re still vexed with me.”
How could she be after this gesture? Besides, his antics at Angie’s painting class had definitely worked out in her favor, in the end. He’d said as much when she’d marched over to his house to give him a talking-to. Later, she’d wondered…had he known, or at least suspected, it would unfold that way? “Wait, I’m trying to bring my rage back.”
“Oh, smell the blooms for heaven’s sake and let that incident lift from your mind,” he said, gesturing to the plant. “Their perfume is strong and sweet—just like you.”
She would have shoved him if she hadn’t been holding the rose bush. “Don’t start that up again.”
