Page 65 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
“A checklist,” Megan squeaked, craning her neck as if trying to see.
“I rather liked that addition myself,” Nicola said, leaning back against the vanity. “I know Killian will bluster, but I bought a copy for us too. He’s been so on edge lately about his horse, Legend. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’d never bred a horse before.”
“Maybe Legend needs the book,” Bets said snarkily.
“Yeah, I definitely want a copy,” Angie said, edging closer and making a rather different noise than the men were over technology.
Rather like a hum. Bets spied the picture of the couple doing it with the man behind the woman and found herself making a similar noise. She couldn’t wait to try that!
“Are you—” Brigid clamped her mouth shut, thank God. “Never mind.”
“Never mind is right,” Bets said, sending Angie a wink to cover Brigid’s near blunder about the pregnancy. “Now give me that book. I’m taking it to the car right now. It would be just my luck if someone accidentally kicked the bag out from the table.”
“I can see everyone staring in shock as it tumbles into the center of the bar,” Siobhan said with a cackle. “It might be funny.”
Usually Bets was up for a laugh, but not about this. Donal might be embarrassed by such a thing, and that wouldn’t do. Since he’d opened up to her about wanting to broaden his horizons, so to speak, she imagined he’d put on his sexy gold-rimmed reading glasses and devour this book overnight. She loved a man who did his research.
“It would explain the doorbell better to the village,” Brigid said, elbowing Bets. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know you’re forgetting your keys for a reason. You and Donal look ready to combust.”
“Combust is right,” Siobhan said, fanning herself. “Yesterday Gavin said he thought for sure you were going to burn a hole through the cashmere sweater you were wearing.”
Great. The whole village was making jokes about them. She only wished they would pare back their visits or go to more trouble to announce themselves, but they wouldn’t. People would think she and Donal would wait until after nine thirty p.m. to draw the drapes in their bedroom and do it. No way. She’d done that. She could tough it out. Donal agreed. But dammit, this doorbell had better work.
“All right, we’re leaving this bathroom before one of the men decides to check whether we—or the plumbing—have had an incident.”
“I think we should cover for your trip to the car by starting a Lucky Charms special. What’s a good dance leading up to Halloween? Angie, you’re the new member. What say you?”
“I don’t think Bon Jovi has a Halloween-themed song.”
“It’s ‘Wanted, Dead or Alive,’” Megan blurted out.
Bets and Siobhan exchanged a look before Siobhan said, “That’s exactly right, dear. Maybe you need to join the Lucky Charms too.”
The fact that she’d known the answer was rather funny. When she’d first arrived in Ireland, Megan had been shocked to see the women dance with their colorful boas. She’d worried the village wouldn’t respect her sister as a teacher if she joined them. Only the people of Caisleán didn’t think any less of a person for enjoying herself. Well, people like Mary Kincaid and Orla MacKenna probably did, she supposed, but she didn’t want to think about them. If she did, she’d end up with the tummy ache Angie had made up.
“I’m not Lucky Charms material,” Megan said, accidentally triggering the air dryer again when she stepped back, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
“Never say never, dear,” Siobhan said, giving her a cheeky wink.
“I think you’d look pretty good with a boa, Megan,” Angie said with a warm smile.
She only shook her head in response. Bets imagined Megan was still finding her way. Hell, weren’t they all?
Donal met her as she came out the bathroom door. “Are you ready to go? I want to install this tonight.”
She eyed the clock hanging over the bar beside the Guinness Toucan sign. “It’s almost nine. How long is it going to take? I was going to drop something in your car and then join the Lucky Charms for a dance.”
His mouth formed a sexy smile. “It can wait. Watching you dance is more interesting. What’s in the gift bag?”
He had his giant hand in there before she could protest, and sure as shooting, he pulled out the book and held it up to see the title in the soft light. He grunted. A very different kind of grunt. “I like this book.”
Not missing a beat, he shoved it back into the bag and touched her face. There was heat in his eyes, alongside a tenderness she loved.
“Fancy reading it to me while I install the doorbell tonight?” he asked.
Her mouth parted for a moment in pure wonder. “Donal O’Dwyer, you surprise me sometimes. In the best freaking ways ever.”
“Good.” He kissed her on the mouth in front of the whole bar. “Now, dance for me. I’ll take the book.”
