17. Olivia
17
OLIVIA
T he day after Declan casually turned me into a pool of lust by quoting a line from a bad movie—God, I was so pathetic—I’d waited until Catie was down for the night, then borrowed one of Declan’s cars to meet Molly at a Galway pub and hammer out our book idea. I didn’t particularly like driving after dark on the wrong side of the road, but I didn’t think my hormones could stand another movie night with Declan.
The man was so hot he was practically radioactive. I was pretty sure I’d remember him growling, Be kind to your man and give me one last taste when I was an old lady in a retirement home.
At least meeting up with Molly was productive , I mused while driving home, exhausted but buzzing with creative energy. She loved my idea for a story, about a little duck who’s separated from his mom, and gets through a number of challenges by asking himself, “What would mama say?” and then following the advice. It would be a gentle little picture book that would help kids process the emotions that come with being separated from a parent, either temporarily or permanently.
The only thing Molly and I disagreed about was what type of animal it should be. She was rooting for a porcupine.
I was driving on autopilot, brainstorming potential cute animal narrators, when a car rounded the bend and came straight at me.
Shit , I thought, realizing with panic that I’d drifted to the right-hand side of the road. I spun the wheel as the other driver slammed their brakes, but I over-corrected and I slid off the road, straight into a short rock wall.
I sat in the car, my heart hammering, as I began to realize how bad that accident could have been. If I hadn’t turned the car.
The other driver, an older man dressed in a sweater and cap, got out of the car and stormed toward me. I opened the door, numbly realizing we probably needed to exchange insurance information. Unfortunately, I had no idea what Declan’s insurance information was.
Oh God , I thought. I have to tell Declan.
“What the hell were you thinking?” the man demanded.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. I fumbled through an apologetic explanation. I must have seemed pretty pathetic, because the man’s expression shifted from anger to concern.
“American, are you? Got confused over which side of the road to be on, I’d wager. Well, I suppose there’s no real harm done,” he said gruffly. “Looks like you bashed up your car a bit.”
I felt like I was going to throw up. I’d ruined Declan’s horribly expensive luxury car.
“Miss, you seem rattled. Is there someone I can call to take you home?”
“No, I’m fine. I can call him myself. Thank you.” The man left, and I dug out my phone. Fingers shaking, I called Declan.
If he fired me this time, I’d actually deserve it.
“Olivia?” he answered. “What is it? It’s late.”
Just hearing his voice made me feel more anchored in my body, less dazed. Unfortunately, that also made the reality of the situation sink in. I felt my throat ache with unshed tears. I really didn’t want to leave Catie and Declan. Not yet. I wasn’t ready.
“I’ve been in an accident,” I made myself say. “It was all my fault. Your car’s banged up?—”
“Where are you?” Declan demanded. “Are you okay?”
I looked down at myself. “I think so. Um…I’m on that road into town with the tree…” I squinted at the road sign up ahead at the corner, and read it out to Declan.
“I’ll be right there,” Declan said, his voice emotionless.
“I’m so sorry,” I said again, but the line had already gone dead.
I tried to get out of the car to inspect the damage, but I realized my legs were shaking, so I sat back down sidewise in the car and put my head between my knees. I stared at my feet planted in the roadside gravel and tried to breathe deeply.
I didn’t know if I stayed like that for ten minutes or twenty, but I’d finally started to calm down when I heard a familiar car screech to a halt, and Declan leapt out. He strode across the road and crouched down before me, one knee planted in the gravel. His hands traveled frantically over my arms, my neck, the sides of my face.
He didn’t look at the car at all.
“Your car is ruined,” I explained, in case he hadn’t heard that part over the phone.
“No signs of concussion,” he said, checking my pupils. “You can move everything? Toes and fingers?”
“Of course,” I said, confused. “It was a small accident. Your airbags didn’t even go off. But the side of your car?—”
“Oh, thank Christ,” Declan said, and crushed me to him in a hug, one of his big hands cradling the back of my head.
It felt so good to be held, but I couldn’t figure out why he cared this much about me. I was just the nanny.
And then I remembered how his dad had died.
He’d be like this about anyone he knew who was in a car accident , I thought. Something about that realization gave me permission to lean into the hug, breathe his scent, and fully relax for the first time since I’d gone off the road. He wasn’t mad.
He kissed my forehead, and my stomach flipped.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I got distracted and started driving on the wrong side of the road,” I admitted, feeling ten kinds of stupid.
He pulled back and held my face firmly between his hands. “If you’re ever feeling too tired to drive, or you have too many drinks, or you’re just in a bad mood and can’t focus… Anything at all, you call me. Promise? I’ll come get you myself. Or I’ll send a car if I can’t.”
I nodded, my mouth going dry at the fierceness in his voice.
“Promise,” he demanded.
“I promise,” I said. “Where’s Catie?
“Sleeping at home. I called Thomas to watch her.”
I made a mental note to do something nice for Thomas as a thank-you.
Declan was still looking at me like I was a precious thing he’d almost lost. It was doing uncomfortable things to my heart.
Suddenly, I was a lot less interested in going on that double-date tomorrow. Which proved that I needed to go on it. I needed to get over this silly crush I was developing on Declan before things got any more complicated between us.
“Can we go home?” I asked Declan.
“Yes, a ghrá ,” Declan said. “We can go home.”
T he next day with Catie was blessedly uneventful. Thomas brought his little girl over for a playdate, so I spent an easy day lounging on the patio while Catie showed her new friend the best places to find bugs in the garden. I was there if they needed anything, but I also knew that genuine childhood friendships needed room to bloom. And I wanted Catie to have more friends her own age.
It also gave me time to write the first draft of my book. Picture books didn’t take long to write, but they could take forever to rewrite.
Declan was as good as his word and came out of his office to take over with Catie when it was time for me to get ready for my date.
The problem was, I didn’t really want to get ready. Instead, I read my draft through one more time. I wasn’t quite ready to share it with Molly, but I wanted to show somebody.
On impulse, I opened Snug and sent the draft to @DBCoder.
Don’t laugh, I wrote, but I’m trying to write my own picture book. I’d love your opinion. But please be gentle.
I stared at my phone, waiting for a response. I could see he was online. Then I noticed the time and swore. I barely had any time to get ready. Molly’s boyfriend’s cousin was picking me up in twelve minutes.
I spritzed some product on my curls and swiped on some makeup. Then I threw on a slinky black dress that made my boobs look amazing. It was easily the nicest dress I owned—a Branson Designs piece that I’d only been able to afford by buying it at a consignment shop a few years back. No fashionista would wear a dress from so many seasons ago, but it was gorgeous, and I loved the way it fit. Nobody knew how to make you feel beautiful and confident like Branson Designs. It was more formal than I’d normally wear on a first date, but I hadn’t exactly been planning on going on dates when I packed. A simple pair of black pumps completed the look. I dug out my jewelry bag and added dangling teal chandelier earrings that popped against my hair, silver rings, and some teal-and-silver bracelets I bought at a street fair.
I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs. I popped my head in the kitchen, where Declan was making some sort of stir-fry. “That smells amazing. But Catie doesn’t like it when her food touches.”
Declan pointed to microwave without turning away from the stove. As if on cue, it dinged. “She’s getting chicken nuggets. Don’t worry.” He glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. “Go have fun on your…” His words trailed off as he saw what I was wearing.
I shifted my weight, self-conscious. “Is it too much?”
Wordlessly, he shook his head. “You look… You look good.” He grabbed his bottle of beer off the counter and took a swig. He looked me up and down again, his knuckles white where he gripped the bottle.
“Who’s this man who’s taking you out?”
“Molly’s boyfriend’s cousin,” I said.
“Molly’s boyfriend has a lot of cousins.” Declan grunted. “And some of them are arseholes.”
“This one’s named Brendan Carr,” I said.
“Brendan’s all right,” Declan allowed, grudgingly. But he didn’t seem happy about it.
The doorbell rang, blasting ABBA’s “Take A Chance on Me” throughout the house.
“That’s probably him,” I said, suddenly nervous. “You know, if you ever want to go out with somebody, I can watch Catie at night too.”
He looked at me inscrutably, then went back to poking at his stir-fry.
“Don’t wait up,” I joked.
His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.
Why was he being so weird?
The doorbell rang again, and I hustled to the door. I didn’t have time to figure out Declan’s moods tonight.
T he food was amazing. Molly looked like a total babe, in a fluttering blouse that showed off her tattoos. Her boyfriend Oisin was sweet, if a bit weird. And Brendan Carr was an absolute gentleman who gave me his full attention, offered to pay for my dinner, and didn’t check his phone even once.
The only problem was I was deathly bored.
“There’s plenty of folks looking for more affordable rentals right now,” Brendan explained. “Ever since Mark O’Rourke took over from his son Seamus, he’s kept raising the rent on all his properties.”
Brendan worked in real estate, and, apparently, kept tabs on the local market.
“That’s Mark for you,” Molly said. “If he didn’t host the summer festival every year, he’d have no goodwill in this town at all.”
“He hosts the whole festival?” I asked, confused.
“Just the final day of it. The Deer and the Warrior was filmed at the O’Rourke mansion, so on the last day of the festival there’s a giant bonfire party in his garden,” Molly explained. “Everyone gets trashed. It’s amazing.”
“He does contribute to the local economy,” Brendan allowed. “Or at least his mansion does. Without the mansion, there’d be no festival. And without the festival, half the businesses in Ballybeith would go under.”
The conversation moved on, but I found myself tuning out.
My phone buzzed, and I snuck a look at it under the table.
It was a message from @DBCoder. I love your book. It’s fucking brilliant. When can I find it in stores?
I felt myself blushing and fought back a smile.
Then his next message came through. I was actually thinking of you today. I think we should meet up, before you leave Ireland. I know you’re on the fence about it. But the truth is, you might be one of my favorite people. Promise me you’ll think about it.
My stomach swirled with a whirl of panicking butterflies. I loved that he wanted to meet me. But it terrified me too.
What if @DBCoder wasn’t as great in person as he was behind a screen?
What if he was?
“Olivia? What do you think?” Brendan asked.
I looked up, startled, into the perfectly pleasant face of the man I was supposed to be on a date with.
Molly came to my rescue. “We’re deciding whether or not to get to dessert. Oisin has to leave since he has an early start tomorrow. But there’s no need for you and Brendan to cut the night short.”
I decided that was my cue. “Actually, I just got a text about work. We should probably call it a night.”
We paid the bill and said goodnight. When Brendan offered me a ride home, I politely demurred. I’d rather pay for a cab than spend another half hour in polite, boring conversation that he’d probably expect to end with a kiss I didn’t actually want to give.
When the boys left, Molly and I found ourselves alone outside the restaurant.
Molly slid me a look. “I’m guessing the ‘work thing’ was an excuse to get out of more time with Brendan?”
I winced. “He’s nice, but…”
“Dull as a rock,” Molly finished. She looped her arm through mine. “Want to go to the pub and talk about books?”
“God, yes,” I said. “Also, Oisin’s a sweetheart who’s absolutely smitten with you. If you like him, ignore what everyone else says.”
“I knew I liked you,” Molly said.
I laughed, and let her lead me to the pub.