Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Liam
S he wouldn’t show up. I was sure of it, but like an idiot, I kept checking my watch every minute or so since I’d walked into Malloy’s and took my fiddle, flutes, and whistles out of their bags and cases.
I took a swallow of Guinness and wondered why I was torturing myself.
The woman’s cell phone alone would drive me insane.
I couldn’t believe my own idiocy. Offering myself as an unpaid bodyguard?
And then getting all up on my high horse when she called me on my bullshit.
Oh, sure, I’d keep her real safe, you bet, yesireebob.
Nobody would mess with her while she was snug and warm in my bed, pinned to the mattress beneath my heaving body.
But my eyes kept drifting to the bar entrance.
I wanted to see her again. Hear her voice.
I liked the way her mind worked, the way her brow furrowed when she was thinking.
Those big gold-brown eyes. The way she wrinkled her nose when she was disgusted, which appeared to be fairly often.
And when I kissed her, oh dear God. The rain that fell on me yesterday should have evaporated into pure steam.
“Yo! Earth to Liam! Come in, Liam!” Mickey the guitar player brayed into my ear. “Do that set of reels you did last week that ends with ‘The Tinker’s Bride,’ okay? I want to try out a new accompaniment.”
“Sure.” I took another swig of his pint. My watch said 11:07. I had to just get the hell over myself and concentrate on the music. I tuned up my fiddle.
We had just launched into “The Tinker’s Bride” when she walked in.
I felt her presence even before she pushed through the crowd.
A smile spread across my face, and by the time she made it back to the table, it had turned into a big grin.
I started speeding up. The other musicians gave me panicked looks, dropping out one by one until only Eoin played with me.
We finished with a flourish, to appreciative hoots and hollers.
She looked softer tonight. Amazingly, her hair was shiny and loose, thick and wavy, hanging long down her back. She was wearing jeans and a snug, low-cut red T-shirt that made her skin glow and showed off the perfect shape of those pert, suckable tits.
Her big eyes were cautious behind her glasses. I put down my fiddle and made my way over to her as the group tore into “The Red-haired Boy.” Her eyes widened as I boldly kissed her, as if I had the right. She smelled incredible. Her lips were so soft.
She swayed back. “Whoa,” she said with a nervous laugh. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
“Fuck no.” I slid my arms around her and kissed her again. Doubling down.
It started to happen again, like it had yesterday. The world fell away, the noise of the bar fading, my focus narrowing down to just Nancy and my own pounding heartbeat. I could barely hear the music.
I forced myself to pull away, then glanced over my shoulder to a table-full of smirks, and nudges. Eoin lifted his pint with a smile, his eyes discreetly curious.
Nancy’s face was pink. “Did I mess up?” I asked her.
“Ah…not necessarily. I’m not used to guys just grabbing me.”
“Did your other boyfriends ask nicely before they kissed you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a loaded question. But no, I don’t think they did. To be truthful, I don’t think it was ever much of an issue before.”
Huh. Maybe this was a can of worms better steered around, rather than dived into. At least until I’d made more progress. “Can I get you a drink?”
“You said the Guinness was good, right?”
“Best this side of the Atlantic.” I elbowed my way to the bar and got her a pint.
When I passed it over, she sipped it and sighed with an expert’s appreciation.
“I didn’t think you’d show,” I said.
She licked foam off her lip. “I still don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Me neither, but I don’t care,” I said recklessly.
I dragged another chair to the musicians’ table and sat her down next to me, boldly taking her hand.
Winding my fingers through her cooler ones, to warm them.
In the confusion that followed the end of the set, she leaned over to me. “I want to hear you play!” she shouted.
Her warm, sweet breath against my neck was as sweet as a kiss. I picked up my fiddle, Mickey called another set, and we were off and tearing along on a set of jigs.
It was a good group. Guitar, fiddles, bodhrán, accordion, and Eoin, locked in a trance of perfect happiness, his fingers flashing as he played his Uilleann pipes.
Nancy clapped vigorously as we finished the set and leaned over.
“You guys are great!” she said, her eyes alight with pleasure. “You kick ass on that fiddle, Liam! Where’d you learn to play?”
“My stepdad played the fiddle,” I replied. “He got me into it when I was a kid. And I picked up the flutes and whistles a few years back, just for fun. I’d rather mess around with them than watch TV.”
“You’re hot,” she said. “Did you ever think of going pro?”
I used the excuse of having to talk over the noise into her ear to kiss the soft skin behind it, and smell her sweet shampoo. “For about ten minutes,” I admitted. “Figured that would take all the fun out of it.”
“Hmm. I guess you might be right. Who’s the piper?”
“Oh, Eoin? He’s my cousin. Second cousin, actually. Fresh from County Wicklow. He works for me. Lives in my basement. Good kid.”
“He’s fabulous,” she said.
“Yeah, isn’t he? He just lights on fire when he plays those pipes.”
That was all there was time to say before we plunged into another set, reels this time, as raucous and wild as the set before.
After the set she leaned over again. “Would your cousin be interested in touring with a hot band that gigs a lot?”
I was taken aback. “Who? You mean, Eoin?”
“I don’t want to put you in a bind. You know, poaching from your crew. But we need a piper, and he rocks.”
Nancy’s eyes glowed. The world was warm and generous tonight, and so was I.
“Ask him,” I suggested. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. He lives to play those pipes.”
We played a set of slip jigs as she retreated to the far side of the room to talk into her phone, a big happy smile on her face.
She came back and sat down next to me again looking satisfied. “This is the answer to my prayers,” she said. “Matt and Eugene are on their way over, but I’m sure it’s a done deal, if he’s interested.”
“You work fast,” I said.
She looked suspicious. “Wait. Are you sure you don’t mind me stealing him?”
I shrugged. “Not really. I know he loves playing the pipes more than he loves working on construction crews. It’s okay. I’ll find someone else to help me.”
Her face relaxed. “Oh, good. I love it when things work out perfectly.”
“Me, too,” I agreed, leaning over to let her thick, silky hair brush against my face.
A stocky redheaded guy with a guitar and a skinny guy carrying a fiddle pushed their way through the crowd about a half hour later.
Their eyes fastened on Eoin, lost in the rapture of a set of fast jigs, his eyes closed, arm pumping his bellows.
They nodded to Nancy. The redheaded guy’s eyes lingered on me. I was still nuzzling her hair.
“That’s Matt with the guitar, and Eugene with the fiddle,” she said in my ear. “I’ll introduce you after the set.”
Matt and Eugene pulled out their instruments and dove into the seisiún without delay. Nancy extracted her hand from mine and patted it. “I have to go talk to Eoin,” she said. “Be right back.”
I watched, fascinated, as she swiveled her way gracefully through the crowd. She waited until the end of the set, then tapped Eoin on the shoulder, and started talking in his ear. Eoin shot me a bewildered look. I gave him a thumbs-up.
Nancy spoke again, and Eoin’s freckles disappeared in a deep blush.
Nancy made her way back to me and sat down again, grinning.
“I’ll let the boys take it from here. He’s shy. Needs some convincing,” she said, just as the players tore lustily into “The Abbey Reel.”
Not much later, I noticed a man I knew across the bar smiling at me and lifting a pint in salute. It was Charlie Witt, a cop from Latham who’d been partnered with Hank, my stepdad, back when Hank had been on the force. Charlie was a good guy. Past retirement age, but he kept on working.
An impulse struck me, and I leaned in close to Nancy’s ear, nuzzling her soft hair, sucking in a greedy chestful of that sweet warm scent that made me want to lick her all over. “There’s a guy I want to talk to over there,” I said. “Will you come with me?”
Nancy looked puzzled, but she nodded agreeably. We slid out of our chairs, and I clasped her hand and led her through the crowd just as the lads all followed Eoin’s lead and struck into another high-speed reel.
Nancy’s fingers curled around mine. Her hand was so small. I wanted to kiss it. Drag her out of there. Find someplace private.
I shook Charlie’s hand, introduced Nancy, and got a congratulatory thump on the shoulder from the old man as he looked her over. “You got yourself a dish,” the older guy said. “Treat her good, huh? Or else I’ll steal her for myself.”
The next reel had a couple of bodhráns thundering along, so I had to practically yell into Charlie’s ear. “I need some advice.”
“Anything for Hank’s kid,” Charlie shot back.
“Remember that elderly Italian American lady in Hempton who died in a burglary attempt about eight, nine days ago? Lucia D’Onofrio?”
Charlie’s smile faded. “Yeah, I heard about that. That was a fuckin’ shame. They say the house got tossed again. Even worse this time.”
“Yeah, it did. And I was the one who reported it yesterday,” I told him. “Nancy here is Mrs. D’Onofrio’s daughter.”
Charlie looked at Nancy again, his round, ruddy face grave. He jerked his chin toward the back of the bar. “Let’s go where there’s less noise.”
We followed Charlie into a quieter room, one with a pool table and a pay phone. Charlie slid into a booth and took a swallow of the pint that he’d brought with him.