Chapter Fifteen
“I’m going out,” I call, taking one final look in the mirror before grabbing my purse. “Granny? I’m leaving now. I’m—” I jump as she appears in the doorway, dressed all in black. “Entering your crone years, I see.”
“Susan’s here to pick me up. I’m going to a funeral.”
I pause, instantly guilty. “I’m sorry. Who died?”
“Mary Boyd,” she says, and smiles like it’s the best news she’s heard all week. “I used to play bridge with her.”
“And we’re…” I wait for her to stop smiling. She doesn’t. “We’re sad about this?”
“God, no. She was a horrible woman.”
“Then why are you going to her funeral?”
“To gloat,” she says, like it’s obvious. “I outlived her.”
“That issuch an unhealthy way of thinking about it.”
She shrugs, taking in my outfit before her eyes narrow on my face. “Are you wearing lipstick?”
“No.” Yes. I fight the urge to scrub it off, squirming under her gaze.
She stays right where she is, watching me for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“Your hair looks lovely,” she says eventually, and heads down the stairs. “But you need a better bra if you want to wear that top.”
I scoff, turning back to the mirror as I wait for the front door to close. Then I do exactly as she suggested.
Five minutes later, I’m marching down the road toward the site, my heeled boots clacking against the tarmac as I try not to let my nerves take over.
I spent all day yesterday mulling over my new revelation, and woke up this morning determined to learn the truth.
Because that is what adults do. They talk to each other.
They speak plainly and clearly and give each other ample opportunity to explain why they withheld such important information.
Important information, like the fact that the other person has a brother whose sole purpose in life seems to be tearing down mine.
Information that the other person just casually forgot to mention, even when said person looked at me with those bright green eyes, and touched me with those strong broad hands, and kissed me with those soft full—
“Stop right there.”
I halt, spinning to see a curly-haired man standing by a hut just inside the entrance. It looks like they tightened their security since the last time I was here.
“Katie Collins,” I say, before the man can ask. “I’m here to see Callum Dempsey.”
“You’re not on the list.”
He didn’t even check the list. Not that I’d be on it, if he did, but still. “I should be,” I say. “Could you call him and check?”
The man doesn’t call him. He just stands there instead. “You look familiar.”
“I live down the road.”
“Yeah? Is this you?” He jerks his head to the wall beside him, and I look over to see a grainy black and white photograph taped to it.
It is me.
It’s me in my duck pajamas the day I stormed down here and jabbed a finger in Jack Doyle’s face.
“I don’t think so,” I say, making a show of peering at it.
He still looks suspicious, but I nod to the phone, knowing he has no other choice but to check.
He stares at me the whole time in a I take my job very seriously way. Callum must give him the okay, though, because it only takes a few seconds before his scowl deepens, and he grabs a visitor’s pass from the table.
“You can wait in his office,” he says, only a smidgen friendlier. “It’s the third one on the right.” He hands me a hard hat and a hi-vis jacket, waiting for me to put them on before getting me to sign in.
I find the door with Callum’s name on it, knock once, and let myself in when there’s no answer.
Inside the space is sparse, the kind of office that tells you its owner rarely uses it.
There’s only a desk with a laptop on it and two chairs on either side.
Paper is stacked in neat piles around it and the corkboard attached to the wall is filled with calendars and order forms.
I ditch my safety gear, prepared to wait a while, but barely a few seconds pass before Callum strides through the door, scanning me from top to toe with a worried pinch to his brow.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Is it Maeve?”
“I’m fine,” I say, thrown by the concern in his voice. “And she’s fine. But your security is mean.”
“Yeah, well, I had to chew them out over some woman wandering in off the street a few weeks ago, so I’m glad to hear it.”
“Did you know they’ve got my picture on the wall? And not in a good way?”
“Jack put it there.” His gaze snags on my face. “Are you wearing lipstick?”
Mother of— “No,” I lie. Again.
His phone rings at his side and he checks it briefly before canceling it.
“I was hoping we could talk,” I say, but he doesn’t seem to be listening to me.
“You are wearing lipstick.” As soon as he says it, his gaze drops down to the rest of my outfit.
I was trying for mature and professional, but I suppose the one nice pair of jeans I own coupled with the silk blouse I’m wearing is the most dressed up he’s ever seen me.
And from the look on Callum’s face, he likes it. He likes it a lot.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asks, with a small smile.
When I don’t answer, he takes a step toward me like I’m here for a very different reason.
My mind goes blank when he does, but whether that’s from nerves or something else, I don’t know.
I tell myself it’s nerves. Nerves for my impending accusation, and definitely not because he’s staring at my mouth like he wants to kiss the lipstick off it.
One of his hands find mine, and he smiles outright when I clench it, holding on tight. Okay, this is not going to plan.
“I can’t talk,” he says, oblivious to my inner crisis. “I’ve got a million and one things to do. But I can stop by the pub tonight?”
“The pub?”
“Or the house. I think your grandmother likes me.”
“She doesn’t like anyone.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I can be pretty charming.” His phone rings again, and he silences it again, an apologetic look on his face. “I have to get back to work.”
He doesn’t though, he doesn’t even move. And when I don’t either, he leans in, his intention clear, and all my grand plans go flying out the window.
“Is Jack Doyle your brother?”
I blurt out the words so fast, I think I spit on him a little. For a moment, Callum goes rigid, like his body has been frozen in ice before he pulls back, his expression guarded.
My stomach drops.
“Oh my God, he is.” I don’t know what I’d been hoping. That it was some kind of elaborate prank? That this was one of those doppelg?nger situations that always freaked me out so much?
I spin away from him, ending up in the corner of the room, beside the door. “Since when? Don’t answer that,” I interrupt myself. “Obviously since you were born. Duh.”
He doesn’t move from his spot at the desk, looking at me like I’m some sort of wild animal that’s been released in his office. “You’re freaking out.”
“Yes,” I tell him, abandoning all my adult plans. “Yes, I’m freaking out. Because the other day you kissed me right outside the pub that your brother wants to tear down. The brother that you conveniently forgot to tell me about.” Dumb. I am so dumb. “Are you spying on me?”
“Spying?”
“Digging up dirt? Finding something that could bring me down? Well, you’re not going to find anything.
Do you know what I’ve done? Nothing . That’s the great thing about being boring.
I’ve done nothing . I mean, yes, one time at the self-checkout I paid for one banana instead of two, but I just wanted to see what would happen.
I was testing the system and the system failed. ”
“Katie—”
“It’s because you shouldn’t trust people. You shouldn’t trust people with their bananas, and you shouldn’t trust people with their kisses.”
His phone goes again, and I glare at him.
“Do you need to get that?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was your brother?”
He sighs. “Because you’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about him, and I wanted to know how you felt about me first. And before that, I didn’t tell you because I don’t tell anyone. Neither of us do. I’ve worked with some of these guys for years and they still don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s their boss? Because I’d like to do my job and be friendly with the guys and not have them be on edge around me the whole time? We don’t make a thing of it. I use my mother’s surname whenever we’re working on the same project. I always have.”
“Sure,” I scoff, and his jaw tightens.
“Whatever nefarious plan you think I’m involved in, Katie, it’s not happening.
I swear to you. I wasn’t spying. I wasn’t scheming.
I came to the pub the other night because I wanted to see you.
Because that’s all I’ve wanted to do since I met you.
And I—” He breaks off with a curse as his phone rings for the fourth time.
“Just answer the damn call.”
“No,” he says. “You wanted to talk so let’s talk.” But almost as soon as he’s said the words, footsteps stomp up the metal steps outside, and a second later, Jack bursts through the door, almost whacking me in the face with it.
“Why aren’t you answering me?”
Alarm flashes across Callum’s features. “Jack—”
“And why I am getting petitions from a man who calls himself a druid about the goddamn road proposal? Two months! We’re going to be behind two months because of this farce. Do you know how much this is going to cost us?”
“Jack—”
“I’m already going to lose half of Malone’s crew in September. What the hell are we going to do now? Gerald isn’t going to allow any more delays and—”
“ Jack .”
“What?” he snaps, spinning around when Callum gestures to where I stand.
His eyes widen when he sees me, but any surprise he shows is quickly replaced by annoyance. “Christ, Callum, when I said you should seduce her, I didn’t mean on company time.”
“ Woah .” Callum holds up his hands as the blood drains from my face. “Hold on a second.”
“Did you do this?” Jack asks me, waving a newspaper in my face. “Send the druids after me?”
The who now?
“Can you please calm down,” Callum begins, but his brother ignores him.
“This has gone on long enough,” he says. “You’ve had your fun. But we’ve got work to do. I’m buying your pub. I’m building my road. And we’re completing this hotel on time.”
“Over my dead body,” I snap, just as furious as he is. “I am going to make your life a living hell. And you .” I round on Callum, who looks like he has a migraine. “You can forget about ever kissing me again. No more truce.”
Callum’s brows draw together, looking like he’s about to argue, but I march out of there before he can. Just as the door bangs shut behind me, I hear Jack’s furious voice as he turns on his brother.
“What does she mean again ?”