Page 66 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
She pressed the gift bag into his hand. “Keep it under wraps.”
Gavin was putting up a fuss as Siobhan found their music. Brigid efficiently cleared the men sitting at the barstools, and Nicola passed out the boas they kept under the bar for times like these. Since Angie had fallen off the bar while dancing in heels and ended up in the hospital, they only danced on the floor now.
Bets tossed the green boa around her neck as the Bon Jovi classic came on. She let her eyes close and fell into the music, aware of Donal’s eyes on her as she swayed to the twang of the guitar. The crowd started to cheer, and she looked up to see Nicola pretending to ride a horse with the barstool as a prop. Saucy.
She found Donal right away, seated at the edge of the room. His green eyes were fiery with heat, and an answering sweat ran down her back. She was so hot, and she wanted a release. With Donal.
When the song ended, she couldn’t make a beeline to Donal fast enough. “Girls, I’m outta here.”
She made a point of waving to Megan, who’d settled into a chair next to Carrick, and then strode toward Donal. “Let’s go home and install that damn doorbell.”
He took her hand and led her to his Mercedes. Inside the dark car, she attacked him, fitting her mouth to his, using her tongue to tantalize them both. Panting, she fell back into her seat and put her belt on. “Drive, man.”
“I’m driving.” He didn’t speed though. He never did, saying she was precious cargo and he wouldn’t take the risk.
At her house, he carried his tools to the front door and asked her to turn on the front lights. He positioned a portable light on the ground so he could see the area where he was working.
“Book’s in the car, Bets.” He drilled into the doorframe with easy precision. “Pour us a whiskey and find yourself a chair. Read for us.”
Not me.Us. She walked to the passenger door, feeling like a young girl again. After arranging everything else, she settled back into the chair she’d dragged out, whiskey in hand, and started to read.
Her cheeks flamed for the first few pages as her imagination went wild. Donal cleared his throat at least four times, telling her his mind was in overdrive too. But then they settled into a rhythm. He drilled—which struck her as funny for a moment, causing her to giggle—and she read. He took a break to cut the power to the circuit he was connecting the doorbell to, but made a speedy return.
After he gave her a sexy wink and gestured for her to continue, she put more feeling into what she was reading. The book wasn’t only about positions. It was about intimacy. It was about setting the stage for passion.
Like the man who was installing her doorbell.
“Donal, I love you,” she said in the quiet fall night.
He finished screwing in the panel. “And I love you,mo ghrá. Now let’s try this out. Can you turn the power back on for the switch?”
A solution was finally upon them. She walked over to him and kissed him square on the mouth.
“Betsy O’Hanlon, you’d better be ready for what’s next.”
She was. So much so her belly tightened in response. Liam, who’d been at the pub, had obviously discerned the reason for the doorbell and told her with a knowing look he’d be spending the weekend elsewhere. God help her if he was sleeping on the floor of Summercrest Manor, because even with some of the rooms cleaned and painted, it sounded like they still had a ways to go. “Tonight then?”
He sat back on his heels, looking so freaking hot she wanted to climb all over him. “Girl, you’ve lost all your car keys, and me own father pulled me aside a couple days ago to ask if I needed him to go over the basics again. Your own friends are buying you a refresher course in a book, which you just read to me while I installed a doorbell—in Ireland, mind you—while I am fully erect. Have mercy, woman. Once this doorbell is in, I’ve fulfilled my part.” He gave her an intense look, waiting for her to speak, then demanded, “Bets, tell me what you’re thinking, girl!”
She opened the top two buttons of her blouse. “I’m going to turn the power on, and then we’ll see about giving this book a run for its money.”
Because a book couldn’t equal the real thing. Ever.
She danced through the house and even managed to keep her good humor when she had to head down into the scary dank basement for the electrical box. Except something popped when she flipped the appropriate switch, and the lights went out. She smelled something electrical burning.
That couldn’t be good.
Heavy boots sounded on the floor above, and then a single flashlight beam found her in the darkness. “Jesus, I think we blew your transformer. I’ll have to call an electrician tomorrow. We might need to install some new circuits to take the load. I hadn’t thought about your old circuits not being able to handle it. Sorry, Bets.”
She hadn’t known anything about the doorbell’s electrical needs, but Bruce had tried to install things before only to discover their electrical box couldn’t take it. They were doomed. “It’s okay, Donal,” she said, although it wasn’t.
“My plan hit a snag, but I’m not giving up. I’ll be taking the book with me now and leaving you, as I’m dying a painful death wanting you.”
She was dying too.
“Maybe this happened for a reason,” he called out softly, an odd note in his usually strong voice. “We both deserve some romance for our first time. We’ll make sure my plan works and then make arrangements to be together at last. Good night,mo ghrá.”
She headed up the stairs for ice to cool down her body, although she didn’t mind with the warmth permeating her heart now.
