Chapter 11
The drive to Ballydonegan Beach took just over an hour, the landscape growing wilder with every mile, winding past stone walls and hedgerows leaning under the weight of summer bloom.
Sheep meandered across the road like they owned it, and Keefe slowed each time, grinning while offering exaggerated commentary in his poshest accent—which really just sounded like Julia Child demonstrating how to cook a chicken.
“Today, on this gorgeous Monday afternoon—with the sun splitting the stones and lighting a path toward Healy Pass, one of Ireland’s best-kept secrets—you’ll find some of the most breathtaking views of mountains and valleys.
It’s also where the Scottish Blackface sheep roam freely, unapologetically claiming the road for themselves.
Just be sure not to look one in the eye, or it might drop dead at your feet. "
Gwen threw her head back and laughed.
She sat barefoot in the passenger seat, one leg curled under her, her red hair whipping in the breeze from the open window. Sunlight dappled her skin, making her hair burn like fire.
Keefe struggled to keep his eyes on the road. That smile—the way it lit up her whole face—and her laugh, low and unguarded, had him completely undone and he was already thinking, he’d give anything to be the reason she smiled like that every day for the rest of her life.
They talked, not like strangers awkwardly finding common ground, but like soulmates catching each other up on the years they had somehow spent apart.
“I quit smoking five years ago,” Gwen said as she twisted a stray thread on her sun dress. “Jesus but I still crave one after a hard day.”
Keefe glanced over, surprised. “Really? Me too.”
“Stop it. Really?” She mused for a moment just how well they fit together. “Mmm,” she hummed. “To stop myself, I took up making bread. Only problem is, I’ve yet to make one that doesn’t turn into a doorstop.”
He laughed, eyes flicking to her toned arms. “That explains the impressive upper body strength. I thought maybe you were secretly a blacksmith.”
She grinned. “Nope. Just me, a bag of flour, and the occasional small kitchen fire.”
“I can help,” he offered. “With the bread. Not the fire hazard part. You’ve probably got that under control.”
“Oh, I absolutely don’t,” she said. “It was only a few months ago, I had to get a new oven because I burned out the last one.” She paused a moment and counted on her fingers how many ovens she had owned.
The tally came to four. “But help would be nice. Maybe then I’d manage to make something edible. ”
Keefe looked at her in horror. So, when she’d said she couldn’t cook what she really meant was she shouldn’t be allowed to cook—ever.
Well, one thing was for sure, she wouldn’t be allowed around Bess!
He also made a mental note to move a second fire extinguisher into the kitchen.
“You could throw in some of those fresh herbs you grow. Basil, rosemary, whatever’s in that little jungle of yours. ”
“That would be nice.” But everything with him was nice. Gwen looked out the window again, suddenly aware of how close they were in the car. “I talk to them, you know. The plants. It’s silly, but…”
“I don’t think it’s silly at all,” he said. “I think it means you know how to love something. How to take care of it.”
She swallowed. His words landed softly, but something about them made her chest feel too tight.
“Or it just means that you’re dead bored and should get a boyfriend.” He reached across, laying a hand on her knee, giving it a playful squeeze.
She laughed a little. There was way too much truth in his words for comfort.
“You know, I’ve never really had a proper boyfriend,” she added, voice a little quieter now.
“Not one I truly loved anyway. I dated a bit, of course, but nothing ever stuck.” Now that got her thinking even further.
“I went to boarding school in London,” she said after a beat.
“Didn’t really belong there though. Too Irish for the English kids, too posh when I came home.
” She gave a half-smile. “I never really fit anywhere.”
He didn’t say anything but gently brushed his fingers along hers where her hand rested on her knee. She didn’t pull away.
“Anyway.” She hadn’t meant to ask for sympathy. The words just slipped out, raw and unguarded, before she even realized she was saying them. He was just so easy to talk to.
“So that’s my social life in a nutshell.” She gave a small shrug. “As for work, I started a charity a few years back. Housing and therapy for abuse survivors.”
His brows rose slightly. “That’s… that’s no small thing.”
Gwen shrugged. “Sometimes I think I built it to keep myself too busy to notice I was lonely. Most nights, it’s just me, my bread, and my plants. I’ve always wanted a cat, but I keep talking myself out of it.”
A cat, huh? That made sense with her being fiercely independent, but secretly dying for affection. Keefe was falling for her more and more by the minute.
“I was thinking about getting a cat.”
She laughed then, and his hand brushed hers. A quiet little spark passed between them.
“What about you?” she asked. “What haven’t you made space for?”
Keefe glanced at the road, then back at her.
“Nothing. At least, not anymore.” There was an oncoming car so Keefe drove into the small pull-off ahead, allowing them to pass comfortably.
He exchanged a friendly wave with the other driver then continued talking and driving.
“It’s funny actually, I haven’t had a girlfriend in a long time and was…
” he nearly told her about his sister playing matchmaker but decided not to. Like Sophie said: ew.
“Was what?”
“My cousin, Simon, was teasing me that I need to find someone and then I found you.”
She raised an eyebrow. There was something more he wasn’t saying but seeing as she had yet to tell her secret she figured he was entitled to his.
“Why did you open your place here?”
“This place always felt more like home. I grew up in Massachusetts but we spent every summer here with our family. Most of my best memories are here.” He took a sharp bend in the road then another before continuing.
“I worked in my parents’ pub before I was tall enough to see over the bar.
Tried culinary school, hated it, and taught myself the rest. Opening a pub of our own was always a dream of mine and Sophie. ”
“Your parents miss you.”
“They do. We miss them too but here is home for us.”
“So, where you go, she goes.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds like we live in each other’s pocket—we don’t. Well… sort of.”
Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Keefe, I know a woman who has a brother she sees once a year at Christmas and that’s all. What you have with Sophie is remarkable.”
Keefe conceded. “Yeah, she’s my best friend.”
Gwen was quiet, watching him in a way that made him want to pull over and take her in his arms.
“And now,” he said hesitantly, “I want a family. Not just the idea of it. A real one. A wife. Kids. The whole beautiful, chaotic mess.” That may have been a bit abrupt but he figured why not put it out on the table and see what she does.
If he understood her as well as he thought he did, she would want the same things.
Her breath caught—just slightly. It wasn’t what he said. It was how he said it. Like he already saw her as part of it.
She looked away first, toward the sliver of blue sea glinting in the distance, then back at him. “That would be a beautiful life.”
The air between them was charged now, humming with unspoken possibilities. He let his fingers trace the curve of her knuckles once more and as the wind tangled her hair and their fingers remained laced across the console, Gwen allowed herself to hope.
Hope that this wasn’t just a chapter.
Hope that this was the beginning of the story.
Hope that it wouldn’t end when she finally told him the truth.
* * *
By the time they reached Ballydonegan Beach, the sky had turned the soft shade of honeyed gold that only came at the tail end of summer afternoons.
The sea sparkled beyond the sand and stones, all blue and wild and wind-ruffled.
It made Gwen want to kick off her sandals and dig her toes into the golden sand.
“God,” she breathed in the salty air. “This is unreal.”
Keefe came around the front of the car with a grin. “Told you I knew a spot.”
They didn’t head to the beach proper just yet. A little cluster of food trucks was parked nearby, and Keefe steered her toward one in particular, cherry-red with a faded chalkboard menu that listed things like Bally Burger Bliss and The Beach Beast .
Behind the counter stood a tall woman in overalls and bright red curls springing out from under a baseball cap. She spotted Keefe immediately and let out a holler.
“Well, look what the tide dragged in!”
Keefe laughed and opened his arms as she leaned over the counter to give him a warm hug. “Hey, Rosie. You still feeding poor unsuspecting tourists heart attacks on buns?”
“Only the lucky ones.” She gave him a once-over, then turned her eyes to Gwen. “And who’s this then?”
Gwen smiled politely, trying not to bristle at the casual familiarity between them. “This is Ruby.” Keefe put his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “My girlfriend.”
Gwen blushed, gushed, and smiled all at once. It was all she could do to keep from kissing his face clean off right then and there.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ruby,” Rosie said, offering her a handshake. “You letting this one cook for you yet? Or has he just been dazzling you with his wit and charm?”
“She’s letting me bake bread with her,” he said, flashing Gwen a grin that made her stomach flutter.