Chapter 7
D eclan's second kiss was as good as his first one. Well, maybe not quite as good, because she was still laughing so hard her tummy hurt, but in its way, that also made it even better. Tara couldn't remember ever feeling so easy and happy with someone, and she was pretty sure she'd never laughed that hard before nine in the morning before. It almost felt like she'd spent her whole life waiting to meet this man, and that now she had, everything going forward was going to be just that little bit extra wonderful, forever. She stole another kiss, trying not to giggle any more, then tried to look stern. "I don't just go around kissing any man who brings me coffee, you know. Only ones with a—" She broke down again, wiping tears of laughter away as she wheezed, " with a beautiful cock, " and threw her head back to laugh again.
Declan made a short sound of distress as she did, but it all happened too fast for her to stop the motion before she whacked the back of her head solidly against the brick wall she was leaning against. Stars shot through her gaze and she yowled, grabbing her head. Her hair, mostly: she'd put it in a thick twist that morning, and it had cushioned the impact. "I'm okay, I'm okay!" she said through the stars behind her eyes, then groaned. "Not great , but okay. Ow, but also, thank God I put my hair up today. See," she added severely, "this is what happens when you make me laugh before coffee."
"I'm so sorry!" Declan said with real dismay, and Tara couldn't help another, slightly pained, laugh.
"It's not your fault. All right, ow, okay, let's go. I'm going to sit in the nice safe car with the headrest that means I can't smack my head like that again, and drink coffee until I'm awake enough to not smack my head like that again. Oh, Declan, that was funny." She smiled at him while he got to his feet, then let him pull her up to standing, too, and smiled some more. "This trip has been more fun than I expected already, if nothing like what I expected."
"Let's go see if we can figure out if this woman is harmless and then spend the rest of your holiday doing what you expected," Declan offered.
"She's not harmless," Tara announced. "And I'm not sure I want to do what I expected, anymore." Not if doing Declan McCarthy, not that she would ever think something that crude or in those terms, was a possibility. Aloud—too loudly, probably—she said, "I mean, this 'take the adventure as it comes' thing is turning out to be more fun than my tightly planned itinerary," and then she decided she should concentrate on drinking her coffee before she said anything irretrievably stupid. She really, really liked Declan. It would be best if he didn't think she was a huge dork.
Although probably he didn't kiss people he thought were huge dorks. He probably especially didn't kiss people he thought were huge dorks that well .
Tara drank her coffee and stared over the brim, eyes wide, while she lingered in the memory of those kisses. Eventually, several minutes into their car journey, she trusted herself enough to say, "This is really good coffee," and Declan gave her a blinding smile.
"Three Fools. It's my favorite coffee spot in Cork. I can avoid work all day by going there."
"And apparently by escorting random Americans around Cork on a whim. Do you just have a long list of ways to avoid work?"
"I've never tried the escorting tourists one before, and I think there's only one tourist I want to do it with. Assuming I meet her standards." Declan slid her a much shyer smile.
Warm happiness spilled through Tara, although she tried to sound as snooty as Colette Saunier as she said, "You'll do, I suppose."
Apparently it worked, because he laughed. "I should have asked some of the other peacock shifters to come out to Blarney with us today, so we could shed a lot of feathers and make certain to have the site security catch her in the act. Though if she's carrying that case of feathers around again…"
"I looked her up last night," Tara said. "Her actual last name is O'Connor, so I guess she comes by that Irish accent honestly."
"I wonder where the Saunier came from, then," Declan said idly.
Tara raised a finger to indicate she had the answer. "Her mom is French, so she uses her mother's maiden name professionally, probably because she thinks a French name is more fashionable."
"Ah, well, I'm not sure I can fault her for that," Declan admitted. "So she's a legitimate designer?"
"Seems to be, but not like a big name or anything. I'm not even sure she's a small name, honestly. I couldn't find anybody famous wearing her stuff, anyway. But boy does she have a real obsession with natural materials. Which, like, that would be fine if it was linen or something, but she's into real fur and feathers and things, but not reclaimed materials. She wants it new, and her site says 'only the best will do,' but it doesn't feel like that's what's driving her. It has a status symbol vibe, you know?"
"I do," Declan said thoughtfully. "Tell you what, when we get out there I'll text the lads and see if anyone can join us, but in the meantime—" He broke off, suddenly looking dismayed. "I'm going to have to spend half the day as a peacock again, aren't I? That's not how I want to spend my time with you!"
An odd combination of joy and dismay tangled through Tara. She also didn't want to spend their time together with him as a bird, no matter how handsome a bird he might be. But the knowledge that he didn't want to spend their time that way made her oddly happy, like it was verifying the attraction and even the affection she felt for him. Verifying that maybe he felt it too, although after those kisses he'd have to be a real cad not to feel something , and he really didn't seem like a cad.
"Maybe not the whole day," she said hopefully. "What are the Blarney grounds like? Maybe there are places you can shift without being seen?"
"There are, at that," Declan said, sounding happier. "Not right around the castle. It's mostly clear there. But loads of the grounds are wooded, and it's early in the day and off-season. Whatever made you decide to come to Ireland in early March? Not even St Patrick's Day?"
"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly afford to visit around St Patrick's Day. Or even the summer. Early March was much more affordable, and," Tara said dubiously, "the calendar said Ireland says February is the start of spring."
They both looked out the car windows, not that it was much of a view as they drove through the outskirts of Cork City. But it didn't look terribly spring-like: the sky was grey, although the clouds were relatively pale in color, not like they were about to dump rain all over everybody, and Tara thought the temperature was in the mid-forties. Not warm, but not quite freezing. There certainly weren't any leaves on the trees now coming into view, and while there was a lot of green on the ground, a great deal of it had the tired look of last year's efforts.
After a pause in which they silently agreed it certainly didn't look very spring-like, Declan agreed, "Imbolc. St. Brigid's Day. First of February is the first day of spring here, by our old calendar. Absolute rubbish, the weather is dire, we're all shivering in our pants for another couple of months. But look here, had you not visited in right now we might never have met, and that would have been a travesty. And," he said, apparently remembering what had prompted the conversational thread and dragging himself back to it, "it means not half as many tourists anywhere, so shifting is safer, yeh. We'll have fun," he said, sounding determined. "And we'll catch a baddie in the act."
He paused, glanced at her, and twisted his mouth as Tara tried not to giggle. "All right, we already caught her in the act, but we weren't prepared to do anything about it yet!"
"What are we going to do? Make sure she's got peacock feathers with her and then call the cops?"
"If we have to," Declan said slowly, thoughtfully. "I'd rather find some way to convince her this is a really bad idea and she should never do it again."
"A flock of peacocks ganging up on her and chasing her all over Blarney castle, screaming that horrible scream of theirs?"
Declan laughed. "In that case I definitely need to ask the lads to come help, because I don't know that I can get true peacocks to be that cooperative. But yeh, something like that!"
Tara pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and nibbled on the end, thinking. "Food. Maybe if—" A giggle burst through her speech. "Maybe if I tied a bag of birdseed to your fluffy tail and sent you running, the rest of the peacocks would follow for the food?"
They pulled up to a stoplight just then, which was good, because Declan turned a look of positively tragic betrayal on her. Those green eyes of his were dark and sad and also, just possibly, sparkling deep inside with laughter. "My peacock can't believe you even suggested that." He pitched his voice higher, somehow making it sound thinner: " Tie food to my tail ? My beautiful tail? If she does that I won't be able to ge— " He broke off suddenly, heat flushing his cheeks and laughter brightening his eyes. "Um, won't be able to show off properly for you."
Tara eyed him suspiciously. "Were you just quoting what it was saying? That's not what it said, was it?"
"No," Declan said. "No, it wasn't. Which is to say, I was quoting it, but not all of it. It..." He cleared his throat. "Doesn't understand human innuendo."
"Oh." Tara paused, thinking about what he'd said, and where he'd broken off. " Oh . Oh no. It said it wouldn't be able to get it up, didn't it?"
Declan looked like he might die of mortification as he put the car back into drive and pulled away from the stoplight, so Tara figured she was right. She dissolved into laughter, hands clapped over her cheeks. "Oh my God. That must be very awkward in day to day conversation, having that kind of misunderstood running commentary in the back of your mind all the time."
"It's not usually that bad," Declan said faintly. "It doesn't usually want to show off for people quite as much as it wants to show off for you, so it's generally less concerned with, um, getting it up."
Tara laughed again, then tipped toward Declan, brushing her shoulder against his lightly, so she wouldn't disturb his driving. "I've only been here two days and none of it has been what I expected and it's the best vacation I could ever imagine. Oh, isn't this pretty !" She sat up again, watching a street side of small, brightly-painted houses and businesses crop up around them as they approached Blarney. Many of them were Tudor style, with dark supporting timbers set against lighter-colored paint, or stone that looked like it had been hewn out of the land nearby and set to survive the centuries. There was a business with a huge sign announcing Blarney Woollen Mills, and she eyed it with delight. "That's where I go to spend all my money, right?"
"It is," Declan agreed. "That, and the gift shops along the street outside the castle, and a hundred other places besides. I've a few shops I like. I'll bring you to them, if you like."
"I would love that." Declan pulled them into a parking lot surrounded by greenery, even if the trees didn't have leaves. A lot of the hedges still did, and Tara felt like Blarney was putting on a special show just for her.
She did twist and look back at the street they'd left, as they got out of the car. "Is Blarney that small? Basically just a street?"
"No! I didn't take you into town centre, that's all. C'mere to me, I've an annual pass, but it doesn't let me bring other people in the way Anavee does, so let me buy your ticket like."
Pleasure and confusion bumped through Tara. "I thought you were a starving artist."
Declan winked, which she thought could undo whatever weak defenses she might have. "I didn't say a word about starving, now, did I? Does this," he gestured at himself, "look like I'm starving?"
This , if it was Declan's general physique, made a pretty good argument for not starving. In fact, it made a pretty good argument for superhero , or at least fitness instructor , and also for Tara could stand around drooling over this guy all day. Instead, she took a deep breath, nodded, and said, "But I really do have to do photography for your studio and art projects, all right?"
"You might have to come back to Ireland for that," Declan said with a smile. "I'm planning to keep you busy the whole time you're here."
Tara was just about to say they should turn right around and go back to somebody's bedroom when Colette Snootypants called her name and ruined everything.