Page 47 of After Indigo Irish Nights
“What?” her friend asked blankly. “The damp? It’s everywhere.”
“Right,” she answered, having her answer. Even though Sorcha had appeared once to Ellie, her friend didn’t seem aware of her presence. “You see your dad yet?”
“He said he’d pop by when he could get away from the boxing mania and Bets’ stack of resumes and portfolios from interested artists.” Ellie rubbed her hands together. “Did you know he’s staying with Donal? We offered. He said he feared the dungeon, but I think he was more worried about seeing Brady in his bathrobe.”
“Already seen it. It wasn’t too bad. You know, the other night at Bets’ house, I heard there were a lot of new artists interested in joining the center. Be fun to see who.”
“I know! They’re going to short-list them for us to look over, in case we know anyone. I can’t wait to see who we’re going to select next.”
Kathleen would be here for the next artists to grace Caisleán, she realized. Now she had a stake in helping them choose someone new. “I wonder if we’ll have someone with a new rep like us or someone well established with an international reputation.”
“How about one of each?” Ellie asked, her eyes bright with excitement. “But think of how awesome it would be to learn from someone who’s already made it big.”
“After your window and my installation, we’re going to be in a new class.” She planted her elbows on the table, indulging in a moment of daydreaming. “We’ve been talking about it, wishing for it, and working damn hard for it. We’re finally on the cusp, babe.”
“It feels great, doesn’t it?” Ellie asked, reaching for her hand. “Thanks for being on the ride with me.”
She squeezed it tightly. “I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. Can I show you my new design for the larger pirate ship?”
“You have it ready?” She laughed. “Of course you do. When you move ahead—”
“I move ahead.”
And that was exactly what she did for the next week.
She met with Linc and Bets about her new design. They told her to move ahead on the down low, so she ordered more supplies to make her design model—she’d need one for a project this size—while internally debating the kind of help she’d need.
Declan gave her some helpful insights on hiring locals as she massaged his sore shoulders with the new peppermint-scented arnica cream she’d picked up at the pharmacy for him. She’d seen it on the shelf and immediately thought of him. When she’d bought it, she’d decided it was official—she was acting like his girlfriend.
“Liam can help you,” Declan said as he shifted his shoulder under her hands. “He has good contacts in the county. Maybe he can even pitch in. He’s done some welding, and he’s the one who put together your shed.”
She was going to need a bigger workspace, but that was a ways off. “I’ll talk to him.”
“The other locals will want someone they know to explain why they should join an arts center project and not keep welding at a factory.” Declan groaned as she hit a tender spot. “Most people have full-time jobs with pensions.”
“It’s the same in the States, minus the pension,” she said, reaching for more arnica cream. “For that helpful insight, I’m going to give you a little present. Turn over.”
“With pleasure.” He had a sexy smile on his handsome face as he did as she’d asked.
He had sexy scruff on his face, having given up shaving for a few days since it left him with more time to stay with her in the early mornings. He’d taken to showering at her place and then heading directly to training from her cottage. Showering at the boxing club would only raise questions, ones he said he’d prefer to hold off.
She got it. She hadn’t told her pop or her brothers about them yet.
Only… She was a couple of days away from suggesting he use the top drawer in the second bedroom for his things, a monumental move for her. She reasoned it was practical. They hadn’t spent a night apart.
She refocused on his muscles. Her hands knew the planes of his body well after the nights they’d shared, and she started to massage the powerful muscles of his chest. She told herself it wasn’t weird that they were inseparable when he wasn’t working or training. They were too hot for each other.
But as she laid her hands on his chest and met his eyes, she knew there was more to it. Her breath didn’t just catch. Her heart expanded at the sight of those blowtorch-blue eyes. He might arouse her more than anyone, but he also made her happy.
It wasn’t like he was working at it. He was just being himself. He left daisies some mornings or a quick handwritten note. He’d said steaks didn’t count as gifts, what with his job, but he brought her the best cuts of the day sometimes. When he showed up after his training and wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely, he asked about her day andlistened.
Then she’d make him a cup of tea, or they’d drink a whiskey with her feet propped in his lap, and he’d tell her abouthisday. Sometimes he had a funny story from the butcher shop, like how he’d come back from the meat cooler and discovered that Jamie had stuck a tennis ball in the mouth of a large salmon. Other times, he had a good one about his training buddies, like how Fergus had put mayonnaise in Eoghan’s old boxing gloves, prompting the man chase him around with a water hose in retribution.
More often than she expected, he made her laugh, which only had her falling for him. It felt as easy and joyous as sliding down a warm spring slide on the playground.
She was totally screwy over him, and she knew it. TheLword kept trying to pop into her mind. So far, she’d tucked it away. Time enough for that.
“Come back here,” he called softly, laying his hands over hers against his heart. “You’re so beautiful.”
