Page 43 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

“I’ll take it the rest of the way,” she said, kissing his cheek and then turning to Bets, whom she hugged.

“Liam is going to check the connections to the house just to be sure everything is fine.” Linc took Bets’ hand. “We’ll let you get ready for your date.”

Busted. She shot him a frown to maintain appearances.

“Especially if you have to wash your hair,” he said with a chuckle. “Women always seem to do that for dates early on. Hey, Bets, when was the last time you washed yours, by the way?”

“When was the last time you asked me out, cowboy?” she bandied back. “Bye, Sophie. Holler if you need anything.”

She waved as they left and then shut the door, wheeling their luggage through the house to the bedrooms. The mobile home was designed for luxury, what with its cherry hardwood floors and plush furniture—the polar opposite of Jamie’s comfortable cottage.

Another world, she thought, as she stopped in the master suite, eyeing the marble floors visible in the bathroom. Jamie had simple cream tile floors throughout his house. There had been something special about knowing she was walking where he had. Longing had her wrapping her arms around herself. This place didn’t smell like him, and for a moment she missed it.Him.

But as she fixed her gaze on the large king bed, she gave in to a little wiggle of happiness. So too when she sighted the jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. She could take a short but luxurious bath before picking up Greta from school.

When she turned on the taps, no water came out. “Not good.” Crossing to the sink, she turned the silver tap. Nothing. “Great. I guess Liam has some work to do, after all.”

She went back into the main suite and decided to unpack. There was a cedar walk-in closet to the right with double doors, which would be perfect for the shipment they had arriving next week. She flicked on the light switch. It remained dark. Suspicion rooted in her mind. No water. And now no lights.

Detouring to the kitchen, she eyed the gas stove and turned it on. No flame. She walked to the refrigerator, bracing herself for rotten food, but it was empty. The light was off in there as well.

Talk about sabotage.

When she heard the purr of a motorcycle outside, she headed to the front door. Liam killed the engine and swung off the bike, dressed in all black. He waved before taking off his helmet.

“Hiya. Happy to be back at your own place?”

“I was.” She came forward, shaking her head. “I don’t seem to have any water, gas, or electricity.”

“Those bastards!” Liam’s green eyes narrowed. “Good thing we thought to check the connections. I’ll see to it.”

“Thanks, Liam,” she said, heading back inside.

Her phone beeped, signaling a text. Her mother, she discovered.

Darling, I just heard that Hans is headed to Ireland too! It’s an art migration. Makes me reconsider my opinion a little. Perhaps I was being hasty, disregarding it. Linc wouldn’t be involved if it weren’t interesting. But seriously… How are the accommodations? You know I can’t create unless I’m comfortable. You still haven’t sent me a photo of your studio. Call me.

If her stomach wasn’t so tense, she might have laughed. Her mother wasreconsidering? No, she was feeling left out. Her mother would hate the rustic countryside. Her image of rustic was a villa in Provence, Tuscany, or Andalusia.

Sophie threw her phone on the couch. She didn’t want her mother to have anything to do with the center. Keeping her career separate from her parents’ had been important to her.

“Sophie?” Liam called. “Can you come out here a minute?”

She turned to see him outside the window. He gestured to the front with his thumb before disappearing. When she reached him, he was standing with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face that put her in mind of a pirate who’d been repelled from taking a port.

“There’s no easy way to say it. They shut off your utilities. As a precaution, they insisted. Total bollocks! Each service company said they couldn’t send anyone out here until Monday at the earliest as they’re closing for the weekend and are short-staffed for emergencies, which apparently ours does not qualify for. I’m sorry. We’re dealing with prize fuckers here.”

She started laughing. The whole thing was ridiculous! “Prize fuckers, huh? Gosh, and here I thought good news came in threes.”

“You’re lucky until you aren’t, but this isn’t about luck, it’s about greed.” He gestured to the house. “Can I get your luggage and help you settle back into Jamie’s?”

“I should probably call him to ask—”

“No need,” Liam interrupted with a wave of his hand. “He’d want you to have water and power and heat.”

“Right,” she said dryly.

Liam set his scowl aside and grinned. “Besides, he’s finding new ways to stop us from sneaking up on him as he works in his room, which is pretty much what he’s done all week, what with school and his proposal for the children’s arts program.”

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