Page 2 of After Indigo Irish Nights
In her art, metal forged by that kind of heat was never the same again. People seemed to be the same way, and that had her thinking about him. More than might be wise since he was the twin brother of Ellie’s fiancé.
She looked out the window, wondering how she was going to feel when she saw Declan again. And how he would react when he saw her.Crazy thoughts, O’Connor.
Ellie drove past a pasture filled with the infamous spray-painted cows depicting words like Romance and Forever in blue, so she knew they were close to Caisleán.
She studied those giant lumbering cows with their romantic words. Whoever had painted them could write Valentine’s Day cards. Good for him, but she was past her romantic phase.
She’d only worn her heart on her sleeve once, and it had been a mistake—the devastating kind. She didn’t want to end up drowning in a puddle of her own tears again. She’d spent six years with Axl, dreaming about girly happily ever afters, only to discover he’d been cheating on her all along. Dickwad. She wasn’t going to be that screwy again.
Have fun. But play it safe. That was her new model.
The thought of enjoying Declan during her stay enticed her, but she’d have to keep hold of herself and not get swept away by the heat between them. If he was of the same mind… She couldn’t wait to find out. Shit. Butterflies fluttered in her tummy. She released her death grip on the seat belt and tried to calm them. Nerves over a boy? This early? Not okay.
“You’re thinking about Declan, aren’t you?” Ellie asked softly.
She looked over quickly at her friend and saw only quiet understanding on her face. “How did you know?”
“You got abnormally quiet. You’re clenching your hands. And your cheeks are flushed like you’re getting hot and bothered. He’s really gotten to you.”
She and Ellie shared everything, the way best friends should. “It’s still weird not knowing how he feels, and it’s even weirder since you’re marrying his brother.”
“I don’t think it’s weird. I like Declan a lot. He’s had his heartbreak and then some, so you’re both in the same boat, so to speak. As for how he feels… Brady thinks he’s been in a dark mood lately. Liam says he’s abnormally sullen, and he’s one of Declan’s longtime friends, so he’d know. I don’t have the same scope, but sullen is a good word. He storms around Summercrest Manor and slams doors.”
Sullen was interesting, God help her. “You still like living at Summercrest with the boys?”
“Yes, until Brady and I can figure out a more private living situation. There’s a terrible shortage of houses and rentals, and most of the ones thatareavailable have the damp or need more renovations than I want to handle. The county council is really strict about granting more planning permission for new houses, and it doesn’t allow outside labor. Daddy’s trying to figure out a plan.”
And he would. Lincoln Buchanan was a force of nature. “How is Papa Linc?”
“Good, although he’s traveling right now. But we’re digressing… Back to Declan.”
“I told you my plan.” Kathleen unclenched her hands and placed them on her thighs. “I’m going to play it cool. See how he acts. I don’t have the time to deal with a sullen Irishman, regardless of how attracted I am to him.”
“I’m glad you didn’t use past tense.”
“I know myself too well for that.” Kathleen had worked hard to be attuned to her emotions, especially after her mother died. As an artist, she had more to say because of it.
“That’s one of the many reasons why I love you,” Ellie said, warmth in her voice. “By the way, if you look across the pasture, you’ll see our girl.”
Kathleen turned her head to the right and couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh as she beheld the killer orange and red sunset illuminating the Sorcha Fitzgerald Arts Center on the majestic green hills. “My God, it’s beautiful. You did good, giving it a million smackeroos.”
Her very rich friend snorted. “Thank you,” she said dryly. “Becoming a public benefactor has been a little weird, but considering the kinds of additions the center can make now—as well as the independence it’s gained—I’m glad I did.”
Ellie had spent most of her adulthood concealing that she was an heiress, the daughter of the billionaire king of windows, Lincoln Buchanan. In the beginning of their friendship, she’d hidden it even from Kathleen. Of course, Kathleen didn’t care how much money anyone had. People were either good or they weren’t. How light or heavy their pocketbook was didn’t factor into her estimation of them unless they acted like it made them better than others.
But Ellie had been burned before, burdened with a mother who only wanted money, first from Ellie’s father and then from her, and a deadbeat ex-fiancé who’d happily jilted her for a payout. “I’m glad it’s out in the open for you, but if someone steps wrong, I’ve got your back.”
“Appreciated.”
As they zoomed along the paved road leading to the center’s parking lot, her hands began to sweat. “Is that my studio out back?”
“Shed, in Irish. Newly constructed by Liam and a few others. I hope you like it.”
The dull gray aluminumshedaround back might look ugly as a cracked sidewalk to some, but to her it was heaven. “It’s a wicked pissah.”
Ellie coughed out a laugh. “God, I’ve missed that one. People around here say ‘class’ for awesome.”
She’d have to learn the lingo, but that could wait. That shed was all hers, and she planned to use it to create a metal sculpture so evocative, so wicked, it was guaranteed to rock the art world.
