Page 23 of After Indigo Irish Nights
“I have eyes, don’t I, as much as a sound mind and knowing heart?” Eoghan grabbed a bottle of water for him, which he took and guzzled down fiercely. “You can’t work her out of your system, my young buck. Many have tried that path and failed.”
Declan glanced over his shoulder. His trainers were chatting by the boxing ring, thick as thieves, yet somehow he knew they were aware of them. “Were you sent to talk to me?”
“I sent myself after much discussion,” Eoghan said, “seeing as I’m the oldest and you likely wouldn’t take a swing at me for saying such things.”
Declan upended half the bottle of water over his heated head and grabbed a towel. “I wouldn’t hit anyone for speaking their mind.”
“Good.” Eoghan pursed his lips a moment. “Then I should add the additional item I wanted to mention. The smell of oranges in your vicinity from time to time.”
He reeled. Eoghan might as well have punched him in the face. “You’d be knowing what that means?”
“I do,” he said, slowly nodding. “Donal’s smelled it too and knows the significance. Your father and Seamus do not. Yet.”
He took his time answering. “Sorcha has her opinions, but Kathleen and I are agreed. We aren’t pursuing each other.”
“Sorcha has heropinions, does she?” Eoghan crossed himself like a good altar boy. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you’re a bold one, disrespecting not only a ghost but our dear Sorcha Fitzgerald. My young buck, you have a fine head on your shoulders, but in this, you’re wrong down the line. If Sorcha says you and the new Yank are meant, you’re meant. Fighting against it will only weaken your body, mind, and heart and make you a pitiful fighter and man in the end. Is that what you want?”
Emotion backed up in his throat like dammed water in a bog. He’d have preferred Eoghan to beat him until he was blue. “I’m not the only one in the mix here. She’s agreed to this. You know she’s going back to Boston to her family. What would you wish for her? Heartache?” He wouldn’t speak of himself.
“What’s important is that you’re meant for each other.” Eoghan waved his hand dismissively. “The details work themselves out. To deny it—for either of you—would be pure folly, like our Irish myths say. I wonder if her art will suffer for it.”
They both smelled oranges then, and the hairs on Declan’s arms rose in response.
“Well, there’s your answer.” Eoghan nodded.
He didn’t want to hear any of this. “Maybe Sorcha needs to appear to Kathleen then,” he said, dropping his arm. “I’m wrecked. I’m going home.”
“You think on what I said, Declan McGrath. It was uttered with the best intentions, mind you. I respect how hard you’ve been training, but you can’t be a winner if you continue like this. Your first fight is going to be as tough as they come. Paul Keane is tireless. He’ll use every weakness you possess. Shadowboxing the new Yank and your desire for her certainly is a weakness.”
He shifted on his tired feet at the mention of his boxing siren. “How I train is my business,” he said caustically.
“You know that’s not how it works.” Eoghan clapped him on the back. “I know those were hard words to hear, and I’ll hope you’ll remember the feeling with which they were said. If it’s any consolation, I agree with Sorcha.”
His breath arrested in his chest.
“You and the lovely Kathleendoseem like the perfect match. Good night, my boy.”
Declan couldn’t run out of there fast enough. He gave perfunctory farewells, grabbed his stuff, and headed home, but no matter how fast he moved, the words Eoghan had spoken followed him.
Summercrest Manor was lit up like Christmas when he arrived, so warm and inviting one would never have thought it had a reputation for being haunted before they moved in. The presence of Kathleen’s car in the driveway made him lower his head against the steering wheel.
He couldn’t handle seeing her tonight. It was hard enough to resist her when he was in top shape. He was raw meat after his encounter with Eoghan.
But he was no coward. Besides, they’d agreed to be friends. He could give her a simple greeting before going upstairs and showering.
He let himself inside quietly. Immediately, he heard the two women laughing in the parlor. He locked his muscles and walked to the doorway.
The very sight of her, sitting on the floor in black jeans and a skintight red shirt next to her friend, sent his troubled heart racing. Their eyes met and held, her brown ones looking larger than usual in her oval face.
“Evening, ladies,” he managed.
Ellie shoved off the floor next to her friend and rushed over to him. “Declan, you look exhausted.”
His mouth curved. “That’s good to hear. Boxing training is supposed to be miserable. If I looked good, I’d be doing it wrong.”
He swore he heard Kathleen muffle a laugh.
Ellie only wrung her hands. “Have you eaten? Brady’s still at the pub, but Kathleen and I managed to make a pretty good bowl of pasta.”
