Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
I t takes me half an hour to settle on something to wear. By the time I finally head downstairs it’s almost noon. I went through the contents of my entire wardrobe, and settled on a gray, oversized sweater that reaches down to my hips and a pair of skinny jeans. Granted, it screams more tourist than young fashionista from the States but I doubt Patrick will know the difference, what with him showing little fashion sense himself. The only things I’ve seen him wear are jeans and a shirt, but even in those he looks like he belongs on an international runway show.
I sling my handbag over my shoulder, squeeze into a pair of sneakers and dash out the door, almost expecting him to have bolted with the excuse that I kept him waiting for too long.
But, he’s there—already settled behind the wheel of his truck, one arm resting on the ledge of the open window, gaze fixed on a point beyond the windshield. He seems lost in thought, thousands of miles away from here, and only notices my presence when I open the door and jump onto the passenger seat.
“Sorry I took so long.” I don’t know where the apology’s coming from. It just blurts out of me even though it’s the last thing I want to say to him after the galling comments he’s been dropping since my arrival.
“It’s fine. You probably couldn’t decide what to wear so you went for that to prove a point. That point being you’re not attracted to me. It didn’t work.” His hot gaze brushes over me; his stunning grin renders me speechless for a moment.
What gave me away this time?
Can he smell my suddenly sweaty palms? Or see the way my knees are wobbling under my weight?
“Like on cue,” I mutter to myself, making a mental note to never ever apologize to this guy again. “Just drive.”
“Where to, princess?”
Seriously, could he be more condescending? He’s trying to rile me up. I can see it from a mile.
The high road, Lori.
I take a deep, calming breath and put on my Zen smile as I decide I’m not going to take the bite and engage in one of his verbal battles. Not when the tingling sensation in my lower abdomen that seems to be present whenever he’s nearby keeps distracting me from putting him in his place.
Patrick doesn’t wait for my reply; he puts the truck into gear and speeds down the driveway. The tires roll on the gravel as he expertly maneuvers us around a bend and downhill, flooring the accelerator in the process.
It’s a short drive to the village, barely a few minutes. I’m only a few seconds in and my back’s already drenched in cold sweat. I don’t want to seem scared but the man drives like a maniac and his scrapyard zombie of a vehicle isn’t exactly boosting my confidence. I squeeze my hands beneath my thighs to clutch at the seat, digging my nails into the crumbling brown leather as I’m thrown back and forth in my seat. Whoever taught him to drive deserves to be locked up. Or maybe Patrick was a lost cause to begin with and his driving instructor took pity on him, figuring he couldn’t do much harm in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by lush green hills and animals.
Speaking of?—
I narrow my eyes against the glaring sun and crane my neck to get a better look. There’s something in the middle of the narrow road. It looks like a huge, brown blob, blocking more than half of the road, and we’re approaching it fast. Patrick doesn’t seem to feel the need to slow down though the thing is not moving from the spot.
For the life of me, I can’t make out what kind of animal it is and why it’s not moving.
“Is that a—” A woolly mammoth, I want to say, but the word remains lodged in my throat. It can’t be a primeval animal because those have been extinct for nearly four thousand years. And yet that boulder looks just like one.
My heart starts to beat frantically in my chest and panic shoots through me.
The truck’s going to collide with the mammoth. I know who’s going to win, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be us.
“Oh, my gosh! Slow down, slow down! You’re going to kill us!” I yell, briefly imagining pushing him aside to take control of the truck to save us. Or maybe I could just open the door and jump out and leave him to his fate. I mean, he is a crappy driver. People will probably think they all saw it coming.
Patrick suddenly remembers where the brakes are and hits them hard, catapulting me forward against my seatbelt. For a moment, my air supply is cut off and I’m seeing stars. But the truck has come to a halt, inches from the rock of an animal.
My breath comes in ragged heaps. I fight to swallow whole gulps of air as I turn to face him, fuming mad. “What’s wrong with you? You could have killed us!”
Ignoring me, he leans out the window and calls out to the animal in what I can only assume must be Irish. He’s the epitome of calm while my heart stops for a split second.
“Are you crazy? Don’t draw its attention to us,” I whisper. “Stop talking to it! What if it decides to ram us and then eat us alive? Do you not want to live another day?”
To my surprise, the animal turns its head toward us. From up close I can see a pair of soft brown eyes that shimmer with intelligence, and the fear in my chest subsides a little. And then it starts to walk away, slowly but steadily heading down an incline. I stare at it until it’s disappeared behind a large stone formation.
Patrick turns to look at me and a huge grin breaks across his face. “Eat us alive? That gentle thing? Never seen Highland cattle before, have you?”
I slump in my seat, suddenly defensive. “No. Where would I see something like that in the city? We don’t usually have them at every corner. That place is reserved for street vendors.” My voice drips with sarcasm, but I can’t help myself. His arrogant smile is driving me insane. “And don’t look so smug. It’s not like you’ve been everywhere and seen everything .”
He inclines his head and smirks, like he doesn’t agree. “I might have.”
He really is infuriating, bordering on obnoxious.
“Just drive,” I mutter under my breath. “And can you please make sure you don’t kill us in the process? I prefer myself alive rather than six feet under. No idea who gave you your driving license, but that person needs to take a crash course on safety.”
He chuckles again, but manages to keep his mouth shut for a change. I choose to ignore him throughout the remaining drive and keep my focus on the scenery. The landscape is lush green with pastures stretching over hills and dotted with cows grazing on grass. I think I even spy the ruins of a medieval fortress and a tree-lined bridleway snaking up to its once-imposing walls. I crane my neck to get a better look but the truck’s moving too fast, and I make a mental note to put it on my list of places to visit list.
A few minutes later, we reach the village and Patrick pulls up in front of an inconspicuous building with a glass front and a wooden sign on the sidewalk, advertising fresh fish. I frown, unsure why he’d stop in front of what looks like a fishmonger. As far as I remember, I didn’t mention any plans for cooking him dinner.
“Do you want me to wait for you or pick you up later?” Patrick says.
I turn to face him, almost expecting to find him laughing at me, but his expression is serious bordering on bored.
“What is this?” I point at the advert, frowning.
“You asked me to take you shopping.” He’s all wide-eyed innocence but his lips begin to twitch. “This is the local shopping center.”
I glance from him to the fishmonger’s then back to him. He can’t be serious! He can’t possibly be.
“Not good enough for you?” His brows shoot up. “Or do you need me to help you navigate your way around? Fine, then.”
Heaving an exasperated sigh, he gets out of his truck and rounds it to hold the door open for me. I have no choice but to get out, though my exit isn’t as graceful as I would like it to be. I’m not a fan of heights and his truck is higher than the cars I’m used to. Clutching at the armrest for support, I gather my handbag and struggle to climb down. Because there is no step I miscalculate the height, and for a moment my feet feel like they’re dangling in mid-air, sending a bout of panic through me. With a shriek I let go of the armrest and topple right into Patrick, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs. His arms go around my waist to steady me, and his mouth comes dangerously close to mine.
He’s so close my throat goes dry and I forget to breathe. My gaze flicks between his lips and his eyes, as my brain seems to have deserted me. I know I should peel myself out of his embrace, make it clear that any kind of proximity between us isn’t welcome. But I’m frozen to the spot, unable to form a single coherent thought.
All I can think about is his hot breath on my skin and the way his strong hands seem to apply just the right amount of pressure on my body, not too hard but not too gentle either.
I want him to want me.
The thought sends the telltale heat of a major blush to my face. I can only hope he’s color-blind and can’t see it, but his hooded eyes tell a different story. His lips move closer to mine. Less than an inch of air divides us. My body is on fire, eager to close that space. The muscles of his arms flex around me, as though to keep me in place, pressed against his hard chest.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
His mouth comes closer. I part my lips in eager expectation, mentally begging him to just kiss me already.
“Paddy, is that you?” a voice calls out.
It takes me a moment to realize someone’s standing behind us, watching our intimate exchange. The magic is broken. My brain suddenly seems to have resumed its job, and I tear myself out of Patrick’s arms.
“Sean, good to see you,” he says, but his gaze is fixed on me. The hunger I thought I saw before is gone as his eyes flash with annoyance and something else?—
Regret?
I can’t be sure, but my heart skips a beat at the prospect that he wanted the kiss as much as I did.
“I didn’t know you were back. When did you get here?” Sean asks.
I turn to put a face to the name.
Sean is at least thirty years older and half a head shorter than Patrick, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing Patrick in a bear hug that would have any normal person struggling for breath. The cream sweater Sean’s wearing smells faintly of sheep, and his green, plain kilt barely covers a pair of bony knees. But it’s the red hair that stands out.
I’ve never seen such a hairy person in my life. There’s so much of it—on his head, covering his cheeks, his legs. I think I even glimpse a tuft sprouting out of his ears.
I don’t want to stare, and yet I can’t help myself as the association with a leprechaun springs to mind.
“And your lady friend would be?” Sean asks.
Patrick mumbles something in response.
My brain registered the question too late to catch Patrick’s answer. What did he say about who I am? I’m desperate to find out, but I can’t just ask him to repeat it. He’d instantly know I care what he thinks of me when I’m not even sure why I actually care.
“Lori,” I say by means of introduction.
“Sean.” The older man stretches out his hand, but instead of shaking mine he lifts it to his lips and plants a sloppy kiss on my skin. “It’s always a pleasure when a pretty face joins our little village. We don’t have enough of those.”
“Don’t get any ideas, ye old mug,” a female voice says a moment before a slender hand slaps Sean over the back of his head. He grimaces but there’s a glint of adoration in his eyes as he turns to face the blonde woman behind him. She smiles at him and then turns her attention to Patrick. There’s more hugging as Patrick is squeezed to her ample bosom that stretches the fabric of whatever that thing is she’s wearing.
I’ve never seen a dress so green or misshaped. It could almost double as a curtain and makes me think she might have tried her hand at tailoring before she realized it might not be her thing after all. Then again, with her bouncy red curls and countless silver jewelry adorning her hands and neck she can almost pull off a somewhat Boho-chic inspired look for which designers back home would probably charge a fortune.
“Fiona, this is Lori,” Patrick says when the woman finally releases him. “She’s?—”
I’m what?
WHAT?
I find myself holding my breath, waiting for him to finish the sentence. But he doesn’t. He just holds my gaze and something resembling a shadow crosses his face.
“She’s—” Fiona prompts, seemingly just as interested in him finishing that thought as I am. And then the penny seems to drop. “Oh, that Lori.”
That Lori?
What is that supposed to mean? Did he mention me to her before? What did he say? Seriously, is the whole village talking about me behind my back?
It’s at times like these that I miss my life in New York, where I was invisible; just a no-name face in the crowd. No one gave a damn about me—and then everything went downhill.
“You’re gorgeous.” Fiona’s voice pulls me out of my dark thoughts. “So urban .”
“Thanks.” I smile at her choice of wording. She must have picked that up somewhere because there’s no way anyone would ever think me urban dressed in skinny jeans and the kind of oversized sweater that would probably double as a small tent.
“How long are you staying?” Her green eyes pierce into me with the usual glint of curiosity.
I hesitate, unsure what to say. Lying is something I try to refrain from, but I can’t tell her the truth. I don’t want to admit that I’m only here to figure out what to do with the place. Selling, most likely, because I need the money to sort out my life back home. As soon as that’s done and the money’s in my pocket I can finally set things straight and redeem myself enough to return to my old life and career. Fiona might not care what happens with the estate, but Patrick’s probably not going to be thrilled to hear about my intentions. It is his childhood home, after all.
“Yes, enlighten us. How long are you planning on staying, Lori?” His gaze settles on me and for a moment it feels as though he can see right into my heart. “As long as it takes to sell, right?”
I grimace, rattled.
He knows.
Maybe he overheard my conversation with Duncan or drew the conclusion himself. As much as I want to deny it I simply can’t lie to him.
Fiona and Sean seem to sense the sudden tension in the air because they mutter some hasty goodbyes and are gone before I’ve regained my composure. Before I know it, Patrick and I are alone again, staring at each other in what feels like a silent battle. The animosity wafting from him before has increased a hundredfold.
I try to break the ice first. “I’m sorry that?—”
He smirks. “It’s fine. I know it’s not personal so no hard feelings.” But the daggers in his eyes tell a different story.
“I’m not even sure that—” I stop in mid-sentence.
That what?
That I wish I could move here rather than sell his mother’s estate? That’s not an option though. I have no money. Besides, I can’t just start over in a foreign country and leave friends and my old life behind. I can’t just give up on my career aspirations, and build a new life across the ocean—in the middle of nowhere. I need the buzz of the city, the noise and the excitement, and everything that comes with it.
Looking at Patrick, I suddenly realize I haven’t missed any of it yet. I haven’t even thought about it.
“I’ll be heading over to the pub to catch up with some friends,” Patrick says. “I’ll pick you up in an hour. That should give you ample time to check out our retail highlights.” His gorgeous lips turn upwards into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s being polite and nothing else.
“Thanks.” I can barely squeeze the word past my lips but it doesn’t matter. He’s already turned his back on me and is heading down the street, leaving me staring at the way he seems to carry himself with confidence and dignity.
If it weren’t for all my problems I would have packed my bags and left right from the start, renouncing Ms. Walsh’s generous inheritance. But I can’t do that. Not when there’s more than just my future at stake. My career is destroyed, An investigation is pending. My situation seems hopeless. I need to set things straight, and I can only do that if I keep my heart out of the entire situation.