Page 31 of Over Verdant Irish Hills

Maybe Sorcha finally realized they were a lost cause.

Maybe it was time for Bets to wake up. She was stupid to have ever thought she had a chance at a love for the ages, but she’d wanted so badly for it to be true. Withhim.

When she turned around one final time, Linc’s door was closed up tight.

She couldn’t believe this was how it was ending between them.

CHAPTERTWELVE

Failure had never sat well with Linc Buchanan.

Whiskey couldn’t remove the sour taste in his mouth, not even when it flowed freely at the house of his friend and fellow accomplice, Donal O’Dwyer.

“Maybe I should just pack up and head back to my ranch in Oklahoma,” he raved, ice cubes clinking against his glass as he waved the drink. “I don’t seem to be helping anybody here.”

“We both made the mistake,” Donal said, staring into his highball. “How was I to know Mary is unlike any Irish mother I’ve met? Bets is being unfair. Maybe I should talk to her.”

“No!” Linc thrust out his glass. “That won’t help anything. Besides, I’m still upset she believed I’d arrange for a criminal to go free. I mean, Jesus, Donal! That chaps my hide more than anything.”

“That’s the hurt talking,” Donal muttered darkly. “Bets doesn’t think you have low morals, Linc. She was only mad as a hen after Mary’s visit. She’s got a temper.”

He made a rude noise. “A temper is one thing. Hell, I’ve got a temper. But she’s made this more important than us, and now she’s saying she thinks I’d act shady.”

“I understand that you have your pride,” Donal said, sipping his whiskey. “Take it from an old friend, though, don’t cling too tightly to it. You’ll lose Bets.”

He sank down into Donal’s old green parlor chair, which gave an alarming squeak. Part of him wanted to hear it break. Hadn’t his old heart? It would be the perfect metaphor. “I already did. We’re done. She only wanted a trial run anyway. It wasn’t like she was looking for a real relationship. A woman doesn’t run home for dead roses if she’s fulfilled.”

Donal sighed and stretched out in a massive wooden chair beside the woodstove. “So the wound to your pride started then, did it? Dammit, Linc. You’re as stubborn as she is. If Sorcha thinks—”

“I don’t want to hear another word about that ghost.” He set his hands on his knees. “I’m glad I never said a word about it to Bets. I’d look like even more of a fool than I already do.”

“But Sorcha—”

“She doesn’t know dick in the romance department.”

Donal choked out a laugh. “You Yanks have a way with words. All right, so you and Bets are having a five-alarm spat. That doesn’t solve our problem.”

“Like I said, maybe I should just head home. Feuds aren’t my specialty. I’m done with all this. You all can handle Mary Kincaid. God knows you probably don’t need me around to help you convince the powers that be to keep Owen in jail.”

“You must be feeling low to underestimate yourself like that.” Donal kicked his feet and managed to nudge Linc’s shoes. “Let’s play this out. Where would you go? You have nothing to go home to, Linc. Whether you like it or not, this is your new home. Your daughter is here, and so are your friends.Andyour woman. I know you don’t want to hear it, but if Sorcha says you’re meant, you’re meant. In the Irish myths, only a fool ignores a spirit’s advice when it comes to love.”

He wasn’t a man for myths or mystery. He worked in hard facts. The size of custom windows. The numbers on a balance sheet. “You’re forgetting one thing. I’m not Irish.”

“You are in your heart.” Donal nudged his feet again. “You certainly have the pride for it.”

There was a knock on the door. Donal’s face grew puzzled. They both knew no one knocked in Ireland. But he rose to answer it.

“Ellie, what a nice surprise.”

Linc hung his head. He should just walk out the back door, get in his car, and drive as far as he could across this infernal island. Except he’d still be stuck on it.

“I see my father’s Range Rover in the driveway, so I assume he’s here,” he heard his daughter say. “Can I come in?”

“No,” Linc called out as Donal gestured her inside. “I’m done holding conversations for the day. Even with the daughter of my heart.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ellie walked over to where he was sitting and sank down onto her heels in a crouch that would have given him a cramp. “Daddy, I heard what happened with Mary. It’s all over the village. That horrible witch told her story to all the other women in the hair salon when she went in to have her hair done. I imagine Bets is pretty upset. You clearly are.”

She gave his glass a pointed look, and he lifted it. “You referring to me drinking whiskey this early in the day?”

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