Page 11 of Dublin Debacle

The doctor’s lips twisted. “Since he refuses to go to hospital, I’ll want to observe him overnight. Daphne told me what happened. Being beat up is bad enough, but at his age, the damage could be worse.”

Between the two of them, they got Emily’s uncle down a long hallway into the back of the townhouse and the bedroom the doctor indicated. Once they had him stretched out across the bed, Jack stood back.

“Are you going to introduce me to your fella?” the doctor asked as she pulled a pen light from her pocket and leaned over Paddy.

Emily’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “He’s not my fella,” she murmured and then in a clear voice, she said, “Dr. Aoife Kelly, this is—” Emily’s brow dipped and she stared at Jack.

He was tempted to let her flounder, but relented. She’d been through enough that night. “Jack Collins,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Kelly.”

The doctor shined the light into Paddy’s eyes. “How do you know our Emily?” she asked.

“We only met tonight,” he said with a grin.

Emily’s brow pinched. “Actually, Jack...” she said his name as if testing it on her tongue, “saved me from being abducted by the men who did this to Uncle Paddy.”

“And Emily saved me from those men,” Uncle Paddy said. “She flew at them like a banshee.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow. “I missed that part.”

“You came when it counted,” Emily said. “I don’t think I would’ve lasted much longer. That man was crushing the air out of my lungs.”

“I’ll check you over when I’m done here,” Dr. Kelly said. Somewhere in another part of the townhouse, a sharp whistle blared. “That would be the kettle. You’re welcome to make a cup of tea while I see to your uncle.”

Emily backed out of the room.

“Let us know if you need help moving him,” Jack said.

“I will,” the doctor said as she unbuttoned Paddy’s shirt and listened to his chest with her stethoscope.

Emily led him back the way they’d come and turned into a small kitchen. She turned off the stove and poured hot water from the kettle into a teapot the doctor had placed nearby on the counter. “Do you drink tea?” she asked as the tea steeped in the pot.

“Since coming to work in the UK, I’ve learned to embrace the habit,” he admitted.

“Same,” Emily said. “Working in a pub, I serve alcohol all the time. Tea is a lovely break from spirits.” She poured the fragrant tea into two teacups. “Sugar?”

“No, thank you,” he said, his gaze following her every move.

As she carefully dropped a cube of sugar into one of the teacups, Jack was struck by the dichotomy of settings in which he’d observed this woman, from the dimly lit interior of a traditional Irish pub, serving beer and whisky to a rowdy crowd of men, to the brightly lit townhouse kitchen, swirling a small spoon in a delicate teacup, at home in either place. And from what Paddy O’Brien had said, she’d stopped the men from further hurting her uncle by throwing herself at them.

He took the proffered teacup and followed her to the small table in the corner of the kitchen, where a plate lay with several cookies. Jack laid his cup and saucer on the table and pulled out a chair for Emily.

She sank onto the chair and sipped at the steaming brew.

Jack sat across the little table from her, more intrigued than ever by the woman.

“So, Jack, is it?” Her lips twisted in a wry grin. “I can’t believe I’ve been driving around town with a complete stranger, and I didn’t even know your name.”

“Now that you know my name, we’re no longer complete strangers,” he said and lifted his teacup to his lips, taking a cautious sip. “You know, I’m a journalist looking for a story. I know you’re a pub owner with an uncle and a brother. But there’s a big gap in the story you and your friend were telling me at the pub.”

Emily frowned. “Gap?”

“Between your mother taking you and your brother back to live in the States and how you came back to Ireland.”

Her frown lifted. “I’ll fill that gap if you tell me more about yourself.”

“Deal,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me.”

Except for the real reason I’m in Ireland.

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