5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Maeve
Funny how people can change in the blink of an eye.
I never would have suspected that the vicar had such a temper, but then again, it really shouldn’t surprise me after so many years working as a police officer.
At least there’s no risk of having to deal with the worst kinds of mankind in Cloonmara.
Or I hope there won’t be.
The relentlessly brisk night air sets my teeth chattering, and I pull my jacket closer around me.
“Damn it,” I mutter. “Why didn’t I bring a scarf?”
My jacket and hoodie don't offer enough of a shield to provide me with the warmth I need, but it’ll have to do for the fifteen-minute walk to the cottage.
As the wind sweeps through my hair, tossing the strands around my face, I set off in a half-run on the pavement and turn a corner, my feet slapping hard against the pavement.
The soothing rhythm is mechanical, measured, focused on getting out of the cold and finding shelter.
A sharp twinge in my side makes me gasp.
“Crap.”
Even though I’m alone, I keep my voice down.
Just as I’m about to round another bend in the road, a shadow at the corner of my eye makes me jolt to a stop.
I ball my hands into fists, ready to use them if I must. Old habits die hard, especially when you’re walking home alone on a dark road, even in small villages such as this one.
The mysterious figure leans against a tree trunk a few meters away.
I breathe in, frowning when the same peppermint scent from Mrs. McCarthy’s tea earlier hits my nostrils.
It doesn’t stop my heart from racing against my ribcage, though.
My breaths fall out in laboured whooshes, but as the shadowy form comes quietly towards me, the light from the solitary lamppost beams down on them.
For a short moment, the adrenaline coursing through my veins spikes.
“Evening, Detective.”
“Aidan?” I yelp.
He raises a steaming mug in greeting. “The one and only.”
I rub a hand over my heart beating hard, but Aidan’s relaxed stance and polite expression make me settle down. “What are you doing, lurking out here in the middle of the night?”
“I’m not lurking.” He scratches the bristles on his chin. “I’m just out enjoying the spring air, minding my own business.”
I take a deep breath through my nose. “Right, I see.”
But I don’t. It’s colder than a witch’s tit, and he knows it.
“If we were in Dublin, I’d find it very odd meeting a stranger on a dark road this late in the evening.”
He lifts his mug to his lips and takes a sip. “You’re not in Dublin. You’re in Cloonmara. You’ll see far stranger things than a farmer enjoying a quiet evening outside from time to time.”
“Oh.”
Awkward silence settles between us, and I rack my brain for something to say.
“Sooo,” he drawls. “What made you take an evening stroll?”
“I wasn’t. A disturbance at the church called me out.”
“Did this disturbance concern our gentle vicar, his exact opposite, moody brother, and a board game with phrases only people with a highly mathematical brain know how to play?”
An unladylike snort escapes me, and I clap a hand over my mouth.
He winks at me. “Go on, now. You can tell me.”
I smile at him. “I can’t share the specifics, but harsh words were exchanged between the parties. However, they quietened down eventually and went their separate ways. Peace restored once again.”
Aidan frowns and takes a step closer towards me. “You’re shivering. Want a cuppa?” He half turns and jerks his head in the direction he came from. “My farm’s only a few minutes away.”
The cold is seeping through my clothes now. “Is it the tea Mrs. McCarthy makes herself?”
“Yes. It’s the best.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, frown firmly in place. “Come on, it won’t take long. You can borrow one of my travel mugs and take the tea back to your cottage with you.”
A full-blown body shiver makes the decision for me. “Thank you. Lead the way.”
Aidan holds out his arm for me, showing me that, despite his impatience, he can be civil, and I nod in thanks.
He takes another long pull of the tea and then pours out the rest in the grass before he takes off.
Despite doing my best to match his purposeful strides, I have to almost run to keep up with him.
My brows furrow but years in the police force have taught me not to show weakness, even when it’s sorely tempting.
I’m no weakling, but the twinge in my lower abdomen reminds me that I haven’t fully recovered yet.
Still, I try to push it far from my mind by focusing on the man walking next to me.
He’s not wearing wellies or overalls tonight.
I’d hardly take him for the same man I met earlier.
Instead of wellies, he’s wearing suede loafers, and his muscled legs are covered in a pair of fitted black jeans that hug a very delectable arse.
From what I can see in the dim evening light, his lean, toned torso is hidden behind an olive-green sweater and a dark-brown oilskin jacket.
The light scruff covering his strong jawline is more trimmed than this morning, and he’s done something with his sandy-coloured hair that makes it look more styled, in a messy kind of way that makes my fingers itch with the temptation to run them through the locks.
I wonder if it’s as soft to touch as it looks.
If I were into this type of country gentleman, he’d be the perfect candidate.
Luckily, he’s not my type.
Nope. Not one bit.
Even so, my gaze flicks down to his cute arse more than once during our walk.
Oh my God. I’m such a mess.
“We’re here.”
Aidan’s voice pulls my lust-befuddled brain back from rosy-tinged clouds, and I return to reality by almost running into his back.
My quick reflexes stop me, and I suck in a deep breath, trying to mask my exhaustion.
He opens a white wooden gate that looks a lot like the one at Rose Hill cottage and steps back, silently showing me to go first.
“Thank you.”
His frown deepens at my laboured breaths. Even soft, they seem as loud as cannons, filling the evening air, and it doesn’t take any deductive skills to know that I’m not fooling him. I try to offer a crooked smile, but the strain on my body is too much.
“Are you all right, Detective?”
“Fine!” I snap, but then bite my lip, embarrassed by my outburst. “Sorry. I’m fine, just a little out of shape. I didn’t mean to bite at you.”
He opens his mouth as if to say something but then snaps it shut, his jaw working for five quick beats before he turns back to the path leading away from the main road.
“Through here to the house.”
I bite my lip to hold back the curse that I’m burning to let loose in frustration.
I follow him down the cobblestone path, rose bushes on either side of us curving inward, and peer into the darkness.
I can barely make out the house, the darkness closing in so much quicker in these parts of the country.
He takes a turn to the left and suddenly stops, pulling out a set of keys from his pockets.
“Why didn’t one of the gardai drive you home?” he asks.
“I was stubborn.”
He lets out a chuckle. “Why don’t I find that hard to believe?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Silence settles between us again, and I wait for him to find the right key, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where my scar is.
Once he unlocks the door, pushing down the excessively large door handle, my heartbeat has settled.
Light bursts from the open door, allowing me to see the face of my unexpected companion for the night, and I crane my neck to meet his gaze.
Why is it only now that I’ve noticed how freaking tall he is? Even though I’m taller than the average woman, the way he towers over me makes me feel small, delicate even.
I’m not entirely sure I should like that, but I do.
“Why do you want to pretend?” he asks.
His question throws me.
“Um, sorry, what?”
“Never mind.” He jerks his head towards the doorway. “I’m in the middle of laying new flooring in the kitchen, and it’s a bit of a mess. Follow where I go, and you won’t trip. Got it?”
I nod briskly.
Aidan slides his glasses up his nose before entering the house.
I keep my eyes down, following his lead as he weaves first right, then left, before we both stand in front of a big pile of wooden pallets stacked together with a square piece of hardboard on top of it as a makeshift kitchen island.
Aidan moves towards the wall farthest from the entrance and turns on a round switch.
I blink quickly, the dimness of the room disappearing quicker than I’m prepared for, and I take in my surroundings.
Wafts of peppermint and citrus permeate the air, and I smile at the sight of a black and white cat perched on the kitchen counter next to a wide, white sink.
“Nah, Little Miss. You know the rules,” Aidan murmurs and picks up the feline. “No cats on the counters.”
“Is that her name? Little Miss?”
He nods and bends his knees, placing the cat on the floor currently covered in grey paper and tape.
“My daughter’s idea.” He straightens back and takes off his jacket, placing it on top of the temporary kitchen island.
Daughter? Crap…have I been checking out a married man?
“It’s a great name.” I smile and glance around the green kitchen. The hominess of the room makes the tension in my neck dissipate slowly, and I start to relax in Aidan’s company. I tilt my head back to take him in, standing patiently, waiting it seems.
“I hope your wife won’t mind me disturbing your evening.”
He shakes his head and glances down at me, his eyes blank. “Not married anymore.”
“Oh.”
The relief hits me so much harder than it should, but before I blurt a string of questions, I push it aside. I’ll examine my feelings about his single status later.
He takes a deep breath and pushes back from the counter, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater.
“I think the pot’s still warm. Let me find that travel mug for you.”
“Thank you.”