Page 25 of Tee’d Up For Trouble

“By gods, I’m assuming this is BC and not AD?”

“Aye, pre-Christian Gaelic Ireland,” I agreed. “Ancient Irish beliefs were polytheistic, involving a pantheon of gods and goddesses from Celtic mythology. These deities were connected to nature, love, war, and other aspects of life, a lot like the Greek and Roman mythologies you’re familiar with.”

“There’s something romantic and tragic about this place.” He looked at me, his eyes holding mine. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to believe in such a romantic fantasy.”

“And why not?” I asked defensively.

He put his gloved hand on my cheek, and I stopped breathing. I should tell him he couldn’t just touch me when he felt like it, but I was busy resisting the temptation to lean into his hand, take in the warmth and comfort when life had been so utterly bereft and lonely for so long.

“That came out wrong.” His voice was husky, sexy, intense. “What I wanted to say was that it’s charming that you believe in love like this, for the ages.”

I swallowed. “It’s just a story.”

“But you believe it.”

“I do,” I murmured.

I thought he’d kiss me, and he did…on my nose, his lips making my cold nose warm.

“You’re very beautiful, very charming, intelligent, and….” Jax’s blue eyes were intense, bold, and bluer. “I’m getting an inferiority complex here, darlin’ Dee, ‘cause I think you’re perfect.”

I snorted. Stepped away. “Perfect, I’m not, Jax,” I warned him. “I’ve enough flaws to fill a book, and baggage to match.”

He stepped forward, closing the gap, his face so near I could feel the warmth of his breath and catch the hint of his cologne. “Who doesn’t? It isn’t our baggage that defines us, Dee, but how we carry it. You carry it with grace.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his look…the one that felt like he was peeling back a layer of mine I hadn’t meant to show, left me feeling exposed.

“Come on.” I turned away before I took an irrevocable stupid step—before he could dig any deeper inside of me.

To give him credit, Jax didn’t push. He was a pleasant companion who knew when to talk and when to be silent. As we got closer to the pub, he brought up the golf resort, and just like that, my back went up. It shouldn’t have. He was merely asking questions, but it did.

“About this golf resort…,” Jax remarked, his voice casual.

I stiffened immediately. “What about it?”

“Why don’t you want it here? Wouldn’t it help the village economically?”

I gritted my teeth. Money. That’s all these men thought about, men like Cillian, men like Jax. Disappointment was a spear in my heart. “Sure, it brings in money, but it changes everything, doesn’t it?”

“Change isn’t always bad, Dee.” His voice was soft, cajoling.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. “Who’ve you been talking to? Your goodpal, Cillian O’Farrell? Did he give you a piece of the soul of Ballybeg to convince me to sell my land? To help him get the county council’s vote?”

Jax looked like I struck him physically. “Whoa, Dee! Where the fuck did that come from?”

“Oh, you think I’ve not heard it all before.” I made a face. “Dee, it’s not the worst idea, lass. The pub’s struggling, and a resort would do wonders, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t do wonders, Jax; it would take away what makes us…well, us. Do you think paving over our fields and turning Ballybeg into a playground for rich tourists would save the pub? Can’t you see how that will kill the village? Or are you so blinded by the desire for money?”

I was storming past him when he grabbed my arm and swung me around.

“Let me go,” I thundered.

“No,” he said simply, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into him.

The balls on this lad.

“I asked a question, that’s all. I have a lot of money, and I don’t need any more, not from some golf resort development project. That isn’t the kind of money that would add to my fortune.”

The nerve of this lad.

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