What Love Can Do: O’Neill Brothers (Home to Green Valley Book 1)

TWO

Driving out of Timber Cove, following Maria Bellevue and her doormat fiancé, Shane, on the PCH, Madlyn felt a little like Red Riding Hood running away from the Big Bad Wolf. Only in this particular story, the Big Bad Wolf had bright green eyes and an Irish accent, and she was fleeing, not because he wanted to eat her or steal her treats, but because of how badly she wanted him to do it.

Conor-the-surf-instructor—broad shoulders, narrow waist, and strong thighs on display in his wetsuit—had made her stomach drop and her knees tremble with desire even when he was being a wise ass. Then again, she hadn’t been very nice to him either, especially when he’d started asking for magic words and making a fool out of her in front of those children. Now the kids would think it was okay to disrespect women and act all cute about it, as long as you were handsome and had an adorable accent. She’d only gone over there to apologize, not because he’d charmed her or because the memory of him in his wetsuit or his toned chest in that tight sweatshirt above tight-fitting board shorts had anything to do with it.

She truly hadn’t expected him to respond with an invitation for dinner and drinks and more, which is what he’d definitely been offering her. Of course she’d turned him down. Not only was she older than him, but she was a professional businesswoman. A mother. A respectable woman in any light.

But…would it have been so terrible? To be someone completely different for just one night? To be with a man who made her feel achy and restless and womanly, things she hadn’t felt in a long time, well before her divorce from Leo. Even better, Conor had something Leo never had, even when things had been good between them—a teasing, gentle humor and laid-back attitude that made Madlyn’s tense shoulders want to relax and tight chest want to exhale the stresses of the day and simply…be.

Sigh.

Dinner and wine on the beach with a hot Irish guy did sound lovely, and Lord knew she needed a break from it all. Not just a break, but… She’d seen the way he looked at her. His eyes had devoured her, adored her. What a man like that would do to her in the bedroom! Holy smokes. And that one dimple that came out to play whenever he suppressed laughter. Which he was always doing. Because he was that kind of guy, the kind who knew just which buttons to push and then…pushed them.

Crap, who was she fooling? She wanted to see him again.

There’s nothing wrong with that, Madlyn, she told herself.

Gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles turned white with indecision. The text that had come in while she was talking to Conor was Leo saying that Jax was finishing dinner and would soon be ready for bed, and for her to text him when she arrived at her cousin Vane’s so he’d know she was okay. To take her time tomorrow and even spend the night again if she wanted to because he was going to take Jax to his parents’ house after school and she didn’t need to rush home.

Home. Ha. Funny word for him to use when the house they now shared didn’t feel like home to her anymore, and it hadn’t in quite a while. They were still cohabiting a year after the divorce just so Jax’s world wouldn’t implode. Also because it was financially easier on both of them.

From his texts, it was apparent Leo was in a good mood, but though the skill had come far too late, she’d finally learned to speak his coded language. Suggesting she spend an extra night with Vane meant he’d pick Jax up after school, take him to visit his grandparents, and leave him there while Leo visited the woman he was currently seeing. He wouldn’t actually tell Madlyn he’d seen her, of course, but at least he’d kept to his promise not to introduce anyone he dated to Jax yet.

Why wouldn’t he? He got to play the family man and live with his son, and sleep with whomever he wanted.

Only, while the arrangement worked for Leo, it wasn’t working for her. She felt stuck. Trapped. For several months now, she’d tried to discuss Leo moving out, but each time he’d said they should wait. First it was, why ruin Jax’s summer? Then it was, why ruin Jax’s Halloween? And a few days ago, it was, why ruin Jax’s Thanksgiving?

Every time, she’d given in, not wanting to sacrifice her baby’s happiness for her own.

She and Leo were civil with one another. Jax had accepted they were no longer the kind of mommy and daddy that slept in the same room or kissed, and seemed fine with that. There was really no reason they couldn’t continue all living together.

No reason except…Madlyn was miserable.

Her grip on the wheel intensified. She stared straight ahead.

The last year had been, without a doubt, the most stressed-out year of her life and she’d done little to remedy it. She worked harder than ever, hoping for a promotion at Deene Nora before the year was over. Other wedding planners at the high-end San Francisco studio, like Christine and Kimmi, all received theirs after completing two years of employment there, whereas Madlyn had been there nearly three, and still nothing. It was because of the divorce and the events leading up to it, she knew. The rough patch had set her off course for a short time, but now she was back. Had been back stronger than ever for a good eight months now, and she deserved that promotion to Event Manager.

She also deserved a night off.

She deserved wine and ocean waves. A few laughs. Hell, maybe even a good fuck.

Madlyn stared at the road so hard, her contacts went dry.

“Damn it.” Next exit, she slowed down and got off the ramp. “What am I doing? What am I doing?” she muttered, pulling over and setting her forehead on her steering wheel. Finally, she straightened, grabbed her phone, and texted Maria, telling the other woman she had forgotten something back in Timber Cove and would meet with them again at the rehearsal dinner.

“Forgot something,” she scoffed. “Yeah, my sanity.”

Next, she texted her cousin, telling Vane she decided to spend the night in Timber Cove, and would drive to her house tomorrow morning to pick her up for the Bridal Expo.

Finally, she thought about texting Leo, just like he’d asked.

She’d given her ex almost everything he ever wanted in the marriage, and still, nothing she’d done was good enough for him. Even now, she found herself catering to his wishes. When he’d asked if Jax would go trick-or-treating with him before the sun went down because his mother didn’t like going out after dark, she’d rushed him to his grandparents’ house. When he’d asked if she could switch her plans because the woman he was dating could only see Leo that evening before her flight to Denver, Madlyn bent over backwards to go pick Jax up. And for what? To appease Leo?

It needed to stop. He already knew she wouldn’t be home until tomorrow night at the earliest. And she certainly didn’t need to check in with him. He didn’t own her and he’d ceased having any right to know what she did and who she did it with the moment he’d betrayed their wedding vows.

She turned her BMW around and drove right back to Timber Cove. She wondered why Conor had chosen to live there. Yeah, it was beachy and the rocks were beautiful, but it was quite isolated. Well, she’d have the chance to ask him why he’d settled there, now that she was headed back like a magnet to iron.

After parking behind the white wooden cottage, she cut the lights and engine and stepped out, smoothing out her skirt. “Just stay for dinner, some wine, and that’s it.” And depending on how she was feeling, maybe a kiss. “Maybe.”

Knocking on the back door to The Big CeltHuna, wondering what that even meant—ah, she got it now, Big Kahuna meets a big, cocky Celt—she waited, hands clasped in front of her.

How big was this cocky Celt exactly? she wondered.

No. Thoughts like that would get her into trouble.

Dinner, then go home.

The open windows released the scents of something delicious on the stove and something else…was that old-timey music playing, those three wartime sisters with the cool, pinup hairdos who sang in harmony?

The door opened, and Conor stood there, still in board shorts, now wearing a worn T-shirt and brandishing a wooden spoon. The smell of buttery seafood filled her nostrils, and she was suddenly ravenous, though for dinner or Conor, she wasn’t sure. His smart-ass smile took up half his face. “It was the accent, wasn’t it?”

Jesus, the boy was fine. But no. The accent alone wasn’t what had brought her back. “You said I was gorgeous.”

After their first year as a married couple, Leo had rarely remarked on her beauty, and while Madlyn obviously wasn’t model material, she always made an effort to look exceptionally assembled. Still, it never mattered how pressed, buffed, polished, and manicured she was, Leo seemed to make it his personal mission not to compliment her, as if letting her know he found her attractive would somehow give her an unfair advantage over him. What a crock, that letting his wife know he found her attractive would be disadvantageous, when he’d been off gallivanting one place or another with one woman or another. But that was over now, didn’t matter anymore. She’d never been special to Leo.

Maybe, for just this one night, she could be special to another man.

Surprise illuminated Conor’s face. “Ah, get off with it. Are you serious?” Conor leaned against the door. “Because that’s just a fact, see. I wasn’t even trying to woo you when I said that. Just look in a mirror. And besides, you must hear that every day.” He waited. “Don’t you?”

“Can I come in now?”

“Oh, fuck, yes. Come on in.” Conor backed away to let her in.

His place was warm and cozy with fluffy sofas, a guitar in the corner, a desk with laptop, and several surfboards leaning against the wall. This was the first time she’d accepted any man’s offer for dinner since before she met Leo, and there was no backing out now. He led her into a small kitchen where something was bubbling away on the stove, and on the dinette, a place setting was set for one.

“You listen to old music?” she asked nervously, rubbing her arms. “I did not expect that at all.”

“You did not hear that,” Con said, reaching for his phone to fiddle with it, and a moment later, the harsh sounds of heavy metal ripped through the ambience. He shouted over the music, making horns with his fingers. “Dude! Better?”

“You are quite the funny man, aren’t you?” Madlyn shouted, leaning against the counter.

“Ah, you got me. Back to The Andrew Sisters.” The music returned to the innocent 1940’s melody about not sitting under an apple tree, while Conor fished around in the clean side of the sink for an extra plate, pulled out an extra wine glass from the cabinet, and set her spot opposite his. “You arrived just in time. You like seafood, I hope?”

“I love it,” she said, watching him plate two steaming servings of rice and shrimp and set them down. Then, he poured two glasses of dark eggplant colored wine and lifted one for her.

He made a toast. “To women changing their minds.”

She clinked glasses with him, “Hear, hear.” She smiled, sipping the sweet liquid that tasted vaguely of blueberries and something else. “This is delicious. Where’s it from?” She would have to suggest it to her couples during consultations.

“Ah, you like it? It’s from my brother’s girlfriend’s vineyard out in Green Valley. Fantastic place. Will take you there sometime.”

Thoughts spattered her mind like a Jackson Pollock painting. He would take her there? What would make him think she’d be okay with that? Even if she did love wine, and Leo never liked going to wine tastings, and she would absolutely love doing something like that with someone she’d known a while, she’d only known Conor like…two minutes. Cocky son of a bitch, wasn’t he?

“Are you from Green Valley? Because I thought, I mean, I figured…” Madlyn shrugged, not knowing exactly how to say it without offending him. “That you weren’t from around here.”

“I’m not.” He sat down and picked up his fork, mixing the shrimp and rice around on his plate. “I’ve just moved here from Dublin. My mother hailed from Green Valley, originally. She passed on about two months ago. My dad just over two years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Madlyn stopped mid-fork to listen. Though the food smelled delicious, she heard the fresh grief in his voice. Her own mother had moved back to New Orleans when Madlyn was sixteen, and Madlyn had seen her only a few times since. It was Dad who’d remained a presence in her and her brother’s lives. She could still remember the pain she’d felt when her mother had left.

Come in, Mad, Mom had said, eyes tinged with alcohol. Madlyn had been hesitant to enter the kitchen but knew it was better to just get it over with. We’re leaving, Barry and I, back to Lakeview. You coming with us? Your brother wants to stay here with your father, though I can’t imagine why…

Madlyn could imagine why. She could imagine hundreds of reasons why. The fact that Dad was more responsible and the better parent, to begin with. Still, it hurt just the same, watching her mother choose her boyfriend over her and her brother.

“So you left Dublin to…” Madlyn prompted.

“To see where Mam grew up. I come from a pretty big family, but it’s just me and my four brothers now. Mam always told us she had no family, but after she died, when we were struggling to decide what to do next, Quinn found a trunk with her things. There were letters. Photographs.” He smiled suddenly. “I got my love for old-time music from Mam and Dad, and there was a photo of them and two of Mam’s friends, attending some costume party on All Hallows’ Eve. Mam and her friends were dressed as the Andrew Sisters. Dad dressed up as Frank Sinatra. Wait, here, I’ll show you.” He got up, rifled through some papers in a drawer, then handed her a faded photograph. She identified his mother immediately—even though she had blond hair to his dark, blue eyes to his green, the resemblance between Con and his mother was there. They had the same lean build, bright eyes, and cheeky smile. Con’s Dad was dark-haired and handsome, and he looked at his wife with obvious love in his eyes.

“They look awesome. Your mother’s beautiful.” Madlyn handed him back the photograph so he could return it safely to the drawer.

“She was. Inside and out.” Con sat down again. “There was also a journal from when she was a young lass, and we learned her family disapproved of her marrying our dad. She married him anyway, and even when she reached out after her mam died, our grandfather turned her away.”

Conor’s bright green eyes, like the clear minerals Jax loved collecting after his Pre-K teacher got him interested in them, were cast down as he spoke about his mother now, and there was a definite sadness about him. She felt horrible she’d been so hard on him out on the beach earlier, this man who so clearly loved and mourned for his mother.

Before she could stop herself, she put down her fork and laid her hand on his, something that apparently startled him given the way his eyes widened for a moment before he turned his hand over and intertwined his fingers with hers. The feel of rough, warm skin against hers thawed parts of her body she hadn’t even realized had been frozen.

“Have you seen your grandfather since you arrived?”

“No. And I don’t plan to, not until he admits he was wrong to turn away his own daughter. What? All because she happened to fall in love?” He stared at her with eyes blazing, as if daring her to criticize him for his decision.

As if.

“I understand. I’d feel the exact same way.”

Expression relaxing, his mouth tipped up. “Quinn disagrees with me, though he’s not made an effort to reach out to our grandfather either. But he’s been in touch with one of our aunts and believes the time will come to heal family hurts.” Con shrugged. “We’ll see. But in the meantime, here I am, living one of my mam’s dreams, in a surf shop on the beach. It’s a start.”

After giving his hand one more squeeze, Madlyn sat back. “Her dream?”

“In her journal, Mam wrote of living different dreams when she was grown. A flower shop, a surf shop, or a bed-and-breakfast. She didn’t care what she did for a career, as long as she was the best.” He bowed his head and chuckled at his mother’s childish spirit.

“But was it always your dream, too? To open a surf shop?”

“No. I spent the past few years before Mam died backpacking a lot. I’d take off and spend months at a time in new cities. Sometimes by myself, sometimes with buddies. I’ve outgrown it, but the life served me well for quite some time. My brothers and I came out here looking for a fresh start. There was nothing left for us in Dublin, or maybe there was, but we didn’t want to find it. Just felt right to move out West. And when I saw the Pacific, it just felt right to open a shop here. I checked around, met a bloke who was looking to close up his surf shop, and less than a month after moving to the States, The Big CeltHuna was born. For six months anyway.”

“Why only six months?”

“I’m reckless but not an idiot. Most small businesses fail, eh? So I signed a six-month lease and bam—fresh start. Let’s see how it goes.”

“Wow,” Madlyn sighed. She understood needing and wanting a fresh new start all too well. She’d been moving toward this goal over the last year, but Leo had been making it difficult with his insistence that they live together, stay together, keep up a unified front for Jax. Con was testing new waters, and in many ways, so was Madlyn.

None of this would come out of her mouth tonight, though, that was for sure. This stranger, for all intents and purposes, as open book as he was with her, did not need to know any details about her private life. It was private for a reason, and if anything happened with him tonight, anything intimate, it was only because she needed temporary physical company, and that was it.

Now, more than ever, Madlyn knew temporary company was all Conor would ever be to her. Fresh start or not, he’d just admitted that opening a surf shop had been nothing but a passing fancy for him, just as surely as she would be one, here tonight then gone. Maybe he’d run the surf shop for a while to honor his mother’s childhood dream, but there was no doubt he’d soon move on given his self-admitted wandering ways. And that was how it should be. Unlike her, who’d married and had a child at twenty-five, Con was still in his early twenties, with every option available to him. He could go wherever he wanted, be whatever he wanted, take his time and change his mind a hundred different ways before finally settling into his true purpose.

While that wasn’t her life, she wouldn’t change a thing. As much as she hated Leo for betraying her, she’d gotten Jax, the best thing that had ever happened to her, from their time together, and for all his failings, Leo was a wonderful father. She loved her career and was good at it. She had family support—her cousin Vane, Vane’s mother, her father and brother, Rico, in LA, if she needed them. So while she could never wander the way Con could, she’d be happy nonetheless.

Tonight was merely a small, lovely detour, an evening she, and hopefully Conor, could enjoy without pressure or expectations.

They ate casually, and he talked mostly about family life with his brothers. Quinn, the oldest, then Brady, then him, then the twins, Sean and Riley. His eyes lit up when he talked about them. That was nice to see—further proof that for all his wandering ways, Con was a family man at heart. She told him her parents were divorced, that she was close to her brother and father, and that she had several cousins close by. She even told him about Leo, though when he asked why they’d divorced, she merely shrugged and said, “same old story, girl meets boy, girl marries boy, girl discovers boy wants her and a perky girlfriend, too,” and he dropped it.

The one thing she didn’t mention was Jax. Nor that Leo still lived with them. The one time she’d mentioned her son to a man who seemed interested in her at a client’s wedding, he’d practically run for the door. Not that she was embarrassed about having a four-year-old child when she was twenty-nine years old—there was nothing wrong with that—but there was no need for him to know. It only made things weird.

A lovely detour, she reminded herself.

And after several sips of this remarkable wine, and Con becoming more comfortable touching her in small ways—reaching for her hands, caressing her shoulder, brushing a strand of her hair back—that was becoming truer and truer by the moment.

Conor finished the rest of his rice and buttery shrimp, a delicious combination that earned him several points, considering Leo never cooked. He put his fork down and picked up his wine glass, crossing his arms. “You said you get where I’m coming from. Is that because of your divorce? Or is it your work? You seemed stressed out there today.”

“Well, like I told you,” she said, gazing at him, wondering if his four brothers were anywhere near as gorgeous as he was. “We’d rescheduled several times, so this was our last chance. Their wedding is this weekend. After that, they leave for Paris. So…I was pressed for time and under the gun.”

“No, I get it. Paris. One of my favorite cities in the world.”

“You’ve been there?” She was suddenly and utterly jealous of this man sitting opposite her, having been to one of her dream cities and talking about it so casually, like it was an everyday occurrence for him.

“Me? Yeah. You remind me a lot of the women there.”

“How so?” Madlyn asked, setting down her fork, only finishing half the plate he’d served her, not because it wasn’t delicious, but because she had several outfits she needed to fit into this week.

He stood and offered her a hand. “Bring your wine outside, I’ll tell you.”

Madlyn’s stomach clenched in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, as it fought off the butterflies feeling. Why fight them? She had already turned her car around, already driven back to this gorgeous man’s house, already shared a wonderful meal with him. So going outside would expose her to the beach, the waves, and stars out here in Timber Cove, all under the influence of this charming Irish surfer, but wasn’t that why she had come?

Taking a huge sip of her wine, she slipped her hand into his and let him lead her to the darkened veranda outside. As expected, it was a beautiful night. The waves softly lapped against the sand, and down the beach, they crashed against the rocks. “Do you ever get bored out here?” she asked, then realizing she might have come across as curt, she added, “I mean, it’s beautiful. Breathtaking. But what do you do all day?”

Conor leaned against the veranda railing and looked out at the black waters. He seemed to have a strong connection to the ocean. “I teach classes, I listen to music…sometimes I just sit out here and think a lot. What, does that sound boring to you, Miss Fancy Pants?”

“Fancy Pants?” Madlyn huffed, drawing back.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. It’s a compliment. I mean, look at you. You have it all pulled together—the skirt, the heels, your hair is perfect…” He turned her cheek, admiring her chignon turned loose, reaching out to tuck a strand that had flown out of place. Well, it was windy. “You’re fancy.”

“But I’m not wearing pants.” She winked, intending to point out that she was, in fact, wearing a skirt. However, the moment she said it, she cringed and watched his eyes sparkle, bracing for the comeback.

Conor clinked wine glasses with her. “I’ll drink to that.” He downed back a big sip.

Madlyn shook her head. “God, I walked right into that one. So tell me why I remind you so much of your Parisian women.”

“Ah. They weren’t my women, per se, but I am pretty observant. I watched these girls come and go, hurrying down the sidewalks, catching taxis and disappearing down the Métro steps. They were always in charge of themselves, confident, assertive. I was quite scared of some of them, that’s for certain.” He laughed.

But Madlyn had trouble seeing the connection. Yes, he’d seen her at her most bossy. When she needed something done, she didn’t let anything get in the way of her goal. That was true. But she wished the words “confident” and “assertive” would describe her in relationships. It all depended on who she was with. With Leo, she’d rarely called the shots. She could barely put together the courage to bring up any changes in their routine without expecting an onslaught of text wars.

But with Con…

If there was ever a “with…”

She imagined she’d be different.

He was so easy-going as he reminisced about Paris, while she polished off her wine. She loved the way his face lit up remembering the way people took the time to slow down and enjoy life in the French city, even amid the bustling craziness. They always found time to sit and sip their café au laits, never texted when they did, they talked, they theorized about art and religion, and they weren’t so dependent on devices and computers and social media. “People fell asleep in gardens,” he said, inching closer to her. “They knew how to relax.”

The wine had already taken effect and was making the veranda tilt one way, then the other, in tune with the rhythm of the ocean. Madlyn felt herself leaving the world behind, and that was a great feeling. It was all because of Conor and the pretty words he weaved, the way he made her feel. Never once awkward nor unsafe. Just entertained, swept away, perfect. She closed her eyes and listened to the lulling sounds of his voice backed by the waves. Conor O’Neill, dreamer and surfer who told her she was gorgeous, classy, and beautiful.

And that kind of attention definitely deserved reciprocity.

Setting her wine glass down on the railing, she took his hands into hers and studied them. Slender fingers, clean nails, tidy, gentle hands. They came up and curled around her chin, tilting it up, then he closed the space between them. Madlyn caught a scent of the blueberry-infused Shiraz on his light breath. Mixed with the salty breeze, the two created a unique potion that sent her brain into overdrive. Let him…

“And people kiss in Paris too.” He inched closer until he was a breath away. “All the time.”

Their lips touched once, held the magic a few moments, and then she exhaled her worries and gave into him completely.