Page 9 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

Jamie took her by the arms before he registered what he’d done. A tremor went through her body and then slammed into him, the power of it like horses thundering across the pasture. “You’ll stay at my house.”

“What?”

He realized everything inside him was calm now. “Well, I was planning on asking you out for dinner, but it seems you need a place to stay more.”

Her mouth tipped up to the right before falling away. “I would have agreed to dinner, Jamie, but we can’t stay with you.”

“Dinner we’ll do, but stay at my house you will. Only I will be staying with friends. You and Greta will have the run of the place, I promise.”

Her face softened as she stepped closer. “You must like me an awful lot, Jamie, to put yourself out like that.”

His tongue knotted in his mouth as her scent washed over him, something a little sweet, something a little spicy. He wanted to pull her to his chest but fought the instinct. Now was not the time. But the time would come soon, sooner than he’d planned, thank the heavens. He should have known Sorcha had the right of it.

“I do like you a lot.” He caressed her arms briefly. “That you should know straightaway, but I would never do anything to jeopardize my role as Greta’s teacher or your integration into this community.”

She swallowed thickly, glancing off toward Greta, who was still talking with Ellie and Kathleen, before returning her gaze to him. “Thank you for that. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a man put me or Greta first, her father included. Jamie, I’m still not sure—”

“I am,” he said, his voice full of the certainty he felt. “Think of it this way. I won’t get lost coming to pick you up for our first date.”

A laugh shook her frame. “All right, I’ll stay there. But only for a little while, and only because I like you.”

“Good,” he said. “That makes two of us.”

They watched as the crane lifted the final piece on the flatbed trailer. The iron arm was an eyesore in the clear late August sky. The six men worked as fast as ditch diggers during a flash flood, securing the pieces and then scampering into the cab. The lorry’s engine roared to life, the brakes hissing before it began to drive off.

“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” Sophie said matter-of-factly. “Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to help Linc kick some corrupt politician’s A-word.”

They were already talking like a unit, he realized, as the scent of oranges surrounded them.

Jamie gave in to the urge and drew her to his side at last.

CHAPTERTHREE

Linc sized up a good life by how many friends he had, how happy his daughter was, how well his business was going, and whether his current relationship was decent or in the shitter.

Until recently, his entanglements with women had been unfulfilling and problematic. Then he’d met Bets O’Hanlon, and after their friendship had turned into a love for the ages, he was proud as a rooster.

Everythingwas coming up roses for once.

And, sure, little gnat-buzzing problems did arise—like the fact that he and Bets had fifty people coming over tonight, and the crabs he’d arranged to pick up hadn’t materialized due to a busted boat—but he was nothing if not adaptable, and he’d grabbed every steak in the butcher shop in Westport, buying up Irish beef like he was a day trader on Wall Street.

And then he’d gotten Ellie’s call about the mobile home.

Some corrupt asshole messing with him wasn’t of the gnat variety. This was a buzzard, sure as shooting, and he’d just authorized the removal of the home Linc had promised to Sophie and her daughter.

Fuck.

When he arrived on his newly acquired land, all that was left of the house he’d put on it were the steps, porch, unplugged wires, and a whole host of other bits and bobs, as the Irish said. He was glad to see Jamie Fitzgerald with the women. He wondered where Greta had gone, but then he spotted a small leg in yellow tights visible through the open car door of the Audi. They’d put her inside. Good decision. A kid should never see their home taken away, and for that alone, he vowed, heads would roll.

He swung out of his Range Rover as his daughter ran forward. “Daddy, they moved so fast! Jamie didn’t think it was wise to try and stop them. There were six of them. Big guys. Plus, Greta—”

Putting his arm around her, he walked them toward the group. “No, you did right. Challenging six guys with a legal notice would be reckless, especially with a child around.” He sure as shooting wouldn’t mention that Jamie had done right by protecting the women. They might get their backs up.

“I don’t know much about legal orders,” Jamie said, inclining his chin, “but the signatory was enough to quell my urge to challenge them. They came at Malcolm Coveney’s behest.”

Double fuck. He’d heard of him, of course.

“I’ll handle it.” He glanced at Sophie and gave an encouraging smile. “Sophie, darlin’, I’d prefer to say something like ‘Welcome to your new home,’ but instead I feel like I need to apologize. Hell, this wasn’t how we intended your first day to go. Is Greta faring all right?”

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