Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
Tommy
R ory and Kathleen’s home was warm in a way that reminded me of Sunday dinners back home.
The kind where family packed around a big wooden table—aunts, uncles and cousins.
Food was passed hand over hand, and everyone talked so loudly, you really couldn’t hear anything.
Their cottage wasn’t fancy, but it was lived in, with scuffed floors and pictures on the walls of Fiona and her siblings, prized horses Rory had trained and photos of him and Kathleen.
The man was obviously very much in love.
He beamed with pride when he talked about how he respected that she was her own woman with a thriving business in town.
I think that might’ve been why it was so important to him to be Fiona’s champion.
Why he supported Fiona in pursuing her dreams because he knew that some women weren’t meant to have their wings clipped.
The scent of roasted lamb and fresh bread lingered in the air, mixing with the faint bite of whiskey from Rory’s glass.
I had declined the offer, wanting to showcase that I could be responsible and wasn’t all about the party.
I had no clue what my father told Rory about the reasons for sending me here, but I didn’t want him to think I’d be a bad influence on his niece.
The fire in the hearth crackled, throwing flickering shadows along the walls.
I felt comfortable here.
Welcome.
Fiona sat across from me, still wearing the smile she’d had all day after her run on the course at Kildare.
I expected she’d be riding that high for a long while.
She listened to Rory talk about the horses, nodding at the right times, but I caught her sneaking glances at me.
Her eyes would meet mine, I’d let mine drop to her lips, and she’d scowl before taking a bite of her meal.
I liked getting under her skin, a challenge that had never really interested me before in my female pursuits.
Kathleen, a woman with keen observational skills and a wicked sense of humor, sat at one end of the table.
“So, Tommy,” she said, reaching for the salt.
“Tell me all about Kentucky. I don’t know much about it, ’cept they do good bourbon and fine horses.”
“That about sums it up,” I said with a grin.
“Hot summers, cold winters, and the best damn thoroughbreds and saddlebreds you’ll ever see.” I cut a sheepish look at Rory.
“No offense to your horses.”
Rory snorted.
“Careful, lad. Ye’re in true thoroughbred country now.”
“I can appreciate that,” I said easily.
“But we all know Kentucky’s got the best.”
The table erupted in good-natured teasing, and Kathleen asked about my family and our farm.
I kept it simple, talking about how we bred and trained saddlebreds, how my parents had sent me here for the summer to, as my mother put it, “Get my head on straight.”
“They think ye’re a troublemaker, then?” Kathleen asked.
“I can appreciate that, for I was a big one meself growing up.”
I glanced at Fiona, who was suddenly very interested in her glass of water.
“I suppose that depends on who you ask.”
Rory chuckled, shaking his head.
“He’s been puttin’ in the work. Knows his way around a horse, I’ll give him that.”
Kathleen turned her attention to Fiona.
“And ye, my dear girl… how was the ride today?” She leaned forward, crossed her arms.
“And don’t spare a single detail so I can live it with ye.”
Before Fiona answered, I couldn’t help myself.
“She was incredible. Held her own against all those men, rode like a damn champion. She was fearless.”
Fiona blushed, stabbing at her potatoes with unnecessary force.
“It wasn’t all that.”
I grinned.
“It was that and more.”
Rory watched us, his expression unreadable.
I didn’t know what he thought about this thing between me and his niece, but he hadn’t kicked my ass yet, so I took that as a good sign.
Fiona looked to her uncle.
“When can we do that again?”
His smile was genuine but guarded.
“Well, have to figure out when yer da will be otherwise occupied and compare it to the schedule.”
“I want to enter a real race,” Fiona said, and I was surprised by the vehemence in her voice.
“And I don’t care if Da finds out.”
The table went silent and Rory and Kathleen exchanged a look before he focused his regard on his niece.
“Fi, love… I get yer facing some confusing times with yer da right now, but just have a care how far ye push him. I think ye have battles ahead and I don’t want ye spreading yerself thin.”
Fiona huffed out a breath of frustration.
“I know. I just…” She glanced around the table, lingering on me a second longer than the others.
“I just don’t want my life decided for me. I want choices.”
She tried to hide it, but I heard the misery laced with fear in every syllable.
It made me want to pick her up, sweep out the door with her in my arms, then take her to the airport and back to Blackburn Farms with me where she could be who she wanted to be.
But that was a ridiculous notion, so I pushed it aside.
Yeah, I’m interested in Fiona, but this would really only be a summer fling, right?
Kathleen wiped her hands on a towel and pushed up out of her chair.
The scraping sound had us all turning our heads.
“One of my waitresses is out sick tonight. I need to go cover her shift.” She then moved around the table and bent over to kiss Rory.
He shook his head, holding on to her hand.
“Ye work too hard.”
She waved him off.
“It doesn’t happen often I have to cover the evenings. Yer just going to miss me warming yer bed.”
Rory barked out a laugh and turned to Fiona and me.
“Ye two should go along.”
I was stunned by the invitation, not necessarily for myself.
But Fiona is seventeen—soon to be eighteen.
She lives under the roof of a man who is very controlling and by all accounts has her already married off.
Fiona hesitated, but the prospect of spending more time with her had me nudging her foot under the table.
“C’mon, Fi. Live a little.”
She stared at me a very long moment, so long in fact that Rory coughed to break the silence.
Her eyes glinted with something that caused my body to tighten and my heart soared when she said, “Aye… let’s go hang out with Kathleen tonight.”
“Do you need to let your parents know?” I asked, unsure of how these things worked in Irish culture.
“I’ve got to walk up to the manor house to talk to Seamus about something. I’ll let him know Fi is going to the pub with Kathleen to lend a hand.”
Which was absolutely not the truth, but close enough, I suppose.
Again, Rory putting opportunity in Fiona’s path…
lying to her dad so she could be free to some extent.
?
Kathleen’s pub, The Fox and Thistle, was everything I imagined it would be.
Low ceilings with exposed wooden beams, dim lighting that made everything look golden, and a fire roaring in the hearth.
The air was thick with the scent of ale, whiskey, cigarette smoke and something savory cooking in the back.
Musicians played in the corner, Fiona pointing out the fiddle, bodhrán and tin whistle.
It was fast and lively, the kind of music that made you want to stomp your feet.
Locals packed in with an obvious mix of tourists—laughing, clinking glasses, sharing stories.
Kathleen handed Fiona and me a pint each and gave her a knowing wink.
We stood at the polished wooden bar, crammed close together.
Fiona grinned, taking a sip, and I swore I had never seen her look more at ease.
She was at home here in a way I hadn’t seen her anywhere else.
“You’re allowed to drink even though you’re not eighteen?” I asked.
She lifted a shoulder.
“Most pubs aren’t overly stringent on the age requirement and Kathleen knows I’m responsible.”
“Well, damn,” I teased, swallowing a long pull of Beamish Stout.
“There goes my nefarious plan to take advantage of you when you get drunk.”
Fiona smirked.
“No, ye wouldn’t do that. I know enough about ye to know that.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I’d protect her—any woman, really—who got too drunk and couldn’t act with reason because of it.
But if she were to get a little tipsy and wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t say no.
We found a table near the fire, and I watched as she greeted nearly everyone who walked by.
She wasn’t just Seamus Conlan’s daughter here—she was Fiona.
The girl with the wild red hair and the pretty smile who charmed everyone.
She was the girl I was starting to think I could spend all damn night just watching.
All damn day too.
A wrinkled man stooped with age approached our table.
He stuck his gnarled hand out to me.
“Nolan O’Shea,” he said in a thick accent I could barely understand.
“Gonna take the wee lass out for a spin.”
The man looked like he could barely walk but Fiona went with him without hesitation, laughing at something he said.
He may have been ancient by Fiona’s standards, but he could still cut a rug.
People clapped and stomped, cheering them both on.
I watched, riveted, as she moved, her feet quick, her smile wide.
She laughed, twirled, and her hair came loose from its tie, flying around her shoulders.
I swallowed hard.
Jesus.
She was breathtaking.
Then she turned, spotted me, and grinned wickedly.
And I knew.
I knew what she was going to do before she did it.
She marched over, grabbed my hand, and pulled me onto the floor.
“Fi,” I protested, resisting.
“I don’t dance.”
She laughed.
“Ye do now.”
The whole damn pub cheered as she placed my hands where they needed to be on her waist and started calling out steps.
I stumbled at first, but she was patient, guiding me, laughing when I stepped wrong, squeezing my hands when I got it right.
It was ridiculous, and I felt like an idiot, and in the end, I didn’t fucking care.
Not when she was looking at me like that.
Not when her hands were on me, her laughter in my ears, her body so damn close.
The song ended, and we were both breathless, grinning like fools.
The locals clapped us on the back, offered more drinks, but Fiona just grabbed my hand, tugging me toward our table.
“Not bad, Yank,” she said, taking a sip of her beer.
I smirked.
“I’ll add it to my list of new skills.”
?
Mr.
O’Shea himself gave us a ride back to Glenhaven in the back of his Morris Marina pickup, a common truck manufactured in England that seemed to be popular in these parts.
It was downright cold sitting in the open air, but I didn’t mind.
Fiona naturally cuddled into me and I held her tight.
When we reached the long driveway leading to Conlan Manor, Fiona banged on the rear window and Mr.
O’Shea stopped.
His head popped out the side.
“We’ll walk from here,” Fiona said as we stood up.
I hopped over the edge and then she let me lift her out with my hands at her waist.
She was as light as a feather to me and I was reluctant to let her go.
Mr.
O’Shea leveled us with a lopsided smirk and drove off with a jaunty wave after Fiona promised him another dance soon.
We watched his truck lights disappear and then Fiona turned to look at the manor house through the darkened distance.
She sighed, crossing her arms over her stomach.
“Back to reality.”
I frowned, moving to stand in her line of sight to block out the imposing view of what waited inside that house for her.
“Are you going to be in trouble? I thought Rory told your dad where you were.”
“Aye, he did,” she said lightly, her gaze lifting to meet mine.
“But to my da, that was probably wasted time when I could be sinkin’ my claws into Brian Kavanagh.”
I stepped closer, reaching out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and her breath hitched.
“You’re much too good for the likes of Brian Kavanagh.”
She shook her head with a soft laugh, more curls bouncing around her face.
“That would be true.” She glanced down for a moment, then looked up at me with what looked to be sadness.
“I better be going.”
“I’ll stay here and watch until you get inside.” I looked over my shoulder at her home, then back to her.
“Worth it? Spending time with me?”
Her breath caught, stopping to focus on my mouth.
“Aye.”
My body tightened as I waited for her to break her stare, but it stayed pinned on my lips, and I knew what she wanted.
I cupped her jaw, my thumb brushing her cheek.
“Promise me we’ll do something tomorrow.”
She hesitated, glancing toward the house.
“I don’t know if I can.”
I leaned in, my lips just brushing hers.
“Try.”
She closed the gap, kissing me slow and deep, a promise of something more, something neither of us was ready admit, and it lit me on fire.
She pulled away, cheeks flushed, and it took everything in my power not to grab her back to me.
“I’ll try,” she whispered.
I grinned.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
With one last lingering look, she stepped back and spread her hands wide.
“Sure ye want to get mixed up in my crazy?”
“I’m sure,” I promised her.
She did nothing more than bring her hands clasped to rest over her heart and then turned to run down the drive, disappearing into the night.
I could make her form out in the shadows and watched nervously as she got to the front door.
She turned, threw a wave at me and I returned it, even though I doubted she could see me where I was.
Then she was gone inside.
Back to a life she could barely call her own.
It was a miserable feeling, not being able to help her in any way.
I was left standing there, wondering how in the hell I was going to walk away from this girl when summer ended.