Page 15 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

“I’ll grab your suitcases,” he told her.

“I can—”

“Make yourself at home.”

Greta let go of her hand immediately and started to explore. Sophie couldn’t deny she wanted to do the same. She was struck by the photos of him and his family and friends on the bookshelves to the right of the woodstove as well as the mountains of books, some paperbacks, some hardbacks, not in any order. She made out names she knew—Patterson, Silva, and Brown—and ones she didn’t—Dunnett, Gillespie, and Johansen.

A jar of sea glass in red, blue, orange, and white made her smile, as did the painting on the wall of a man reading a book under a lone tree in a pasture dotted with sheep. Angie’s work, she noted, seeing the signature in the corner. The subject could only be Jamie. Angie had captured the lines of his body and profile well, but it was the calm he radiated that identified him. He didn’t seem isolated in the scene. He seemed one with the world.

“Can I pick it up?” Greta asked, wandering over to an adorable stuffed sheep resting on the plain blue couch.

“You can touch anything you want,” Jamie said, appearing with their suitcases. “I keep that sheep here for my niece. Her name is January because that’s when the first lambs are born for the year. You’ll love the lambing season. Even though I’m an adult, I still smile when I see lambs leaping atop the green hills.”

Greta picked up January and clutched her to her chest. “Oh, I can’t wait to see. Mama, can I sleep with January?”

She glanced over at Jamie, the intimacy of being in his home stealing around her. Her heart drummed in her chest as they gazed at each other.

“If your mother approves, I’m all for it,” he said after she nodded. “If she’s like my mum, anything she says goes.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much like that,” Greta answered, making Sophie laugh.

“Come on, sleepyhead. We’ll do a quick bath and then tuck you into bed.”

“I thought the room I’d created for my niece would do.” He pointed to the closed door behind her. “I figured Emeline might like a place to rest her head and keep some things when she visits her favorite uncle.”

Her heart squeezed with the tenderness of the gesture.

He showed her the bath, a simple tub and toilet, and told her the other bathroom down the hall had a shower. Then he showed her a switch for the immersion heater, something she needed to turn on if she planned to take really long showers. That was new, but she nodded, wondering howlongwas defined. She vowed to take brief ones and never find out.

He showed her to another bedroom, one decorated with a simple white end table, lamp, and a whitefull-sizedbed. Wow. She hadn’t seen a bed that small in… Their eyes met and lingered before he excused himself. Her mind brought up a wild fantasy of them on the bed, his body moving deeply in her, and she wondered if he had a bigger bed than this one. Not that she would have sex with him around Greta.

Was she already seriously thinking about sex with him? This soon?

Yes, she was.

Epic for her. She’d always been careful in her love life. Her father had been divorced four times and her mother had carried on many tumultuous love affairs after her parents’ divorce, so she knew firsthand the emotional cost of such things. She’d never gone to bed with a man as a reaction to life events or an inspiration for great art. And she’d waited long enough to make sure the man would stay around. Of course, that strategy hadn’t worked out in her favor.

Wanting someone this soon and following through with it was new territory for sure, but it didn’t feel wrong. She rubbed her belly. Yeah, it felt way too right.

She found Greta in her room, clutching her stuffed sheep next to a twin bed covered charmingly in flowers. “How about you grab your jammies while I say good night to Mr. Fitzgerald?”

“I want to say goodbye too,” Greta told her.

“Okay,” she said and followed her daughter down the hallway to the kitchen.

He was staring into the open refrigerator and looked up guiltily. “There isn’t much here. I’ll drop some things by in the morning if you make me a list.”

“We’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Sandrine probably had the fridge stocked at the mobile home. She’ll—”

He only raised his brow and crossed to the counter to grab up a notepad and pen. Rather than insisting on doing the task himself, he gave them to her.

Something about the way he handled it made her agree. “All right.”

“Thank you.” He shut the refrigerator and showed her where the coffee was—instant—and the tea bags, something called Lyons. His cabinets were fairly bare—pasta, a jar of sauce, and O’Donnell’s potato crisps—but then again, he was a bachelor. Whoa! Wait. She walked to the cabinet and pulled out the bag of crisps. She stared at the brand. The crisp maker’s brand was a tree of life design. That was a little freaky, but maybe it was a sign. She believed in them.

When she finished jotting down a few staples they would need, she found Jamie in the parlor with Greta. He was down on one knee again, at her height. That made her smile.

“I hope you have a nice time with your friends, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Greta said. “Thank you for letting us stay at your house.”

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