Page 17 of Beer & Broomsticks

The moment came as soon as he took his first bite.

“Never do that again, Ruairí. I’m not a child to be protected.”

He set down his sandwich and sipped his drink before replying. Choosing his words carefully, he said, “No, you’re precious to me, and I’ll not apologize for keeping you safe.”

“But you can’t, not always, and it’s not your job.”

Staring at her, he felt helpless, unable to tell her how essential she was to his wellbeing. To his very life. A world without Bridget didn’t bear thinking about. “Don’t ask me not to try,mo ghrá. Please.”

She surprised him when she reached for his hand. “I understand the need to try, Ruairí, I’ve done it with my own siblings. But I also know they are bull-headed enough to do what they intend to without any interference from me.” With a gentle squeeze, she released him. “You earned more of my trust today. And I had a chuckle when you called Moira a mad cow. Did you see how scarlet her face turned?” Bridget’s grin was infectious. “I thought her bleedin’ mind was going to explode. ’Twas grand, it was.”

With a laugh and a toast to getting the best of his cousin, they ate their lunch, each taking the time to tease the other about their reaction to the threat.

“A rolling pin, Bridg?” He snorted. “Sure, and if her magic was gone, I’d have put my money on you in that fight.”

“It was the first thing handy,” she retorted with a smile. “And don’t think I’ve not used it a time or two with our rowdy patrons.”

“Oh, I’ve seen you have a go. It warmed me heart to have someone else be the target of your anger a time or two.”

Her light laughter charmed him in a way no magic could do. She was a witch with no real ability but the one to draw him under her spell. For many years, he’d shoved down his hopelessness, refusing to believe she wouldn’t love him again as he so desperately loved her. Before that exact moment, she’d barely cast a glance in his direction, and she certainly hadn’t had a kind word for him. To see some of her hurt and anger over the past dissipate was encouraging.

“What are you thinking?” she asked softly.

“How much I’m enjoyin’ this moment. How much I appreciate you settin’ aside your grievance for a short while so we can laugh again,together.” He said the words with all the sincerity he could muster, positive she’d wave him off, but praying she wouldn’t.

“I was thinking much the same.”

She swallowed hard, and Ruairí got the impression her next words would be a more difficult confession.

“It’s not that I can’t be myself with the others, but there are expectations with family. And probably I imagine those. But with you, there’s nothing but the act of being me. Being us.”

“Yeah, and I’ve missed this, I have,” he said gruffly, coughing to clear his throat of the thick emotion trying to choke him. “I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry—”

She stopped him with a touch to his forearm. “No more, Ruairí. You’ve no need to say it again. What’s done is done, and we can’t go back, but maybe we can let sleeping dogs lie.”

“That’s the point,mo ghrá, I don’t want to. I want what we once had again. I want to spend the rest of our lives bickering and shagging afterward in apology.” A sweep of color in her cheeks told him she wasn’t immune to him or their memories. “I want you, Bridget.”

“Give me time. I’ve a sword to find and a prophecy to solve first.”

His guilt kept him silent as she pushed away from the table to take her dishes to the sink.

“I’ve had a look at the map you gave me,” she said conversationally. “Did you see there are clues in the corners? It’s like someone put their thoughts to paper as they tried to solve the riddle.”

“Yeah?” He tried not to look like the con artist he was. “I can help you search.”

She paused in scrubbing her dish. “You’d do that?”

Boy, would he.

“Aye, if it will stop Loman and Moira.”And secure your heart, he wanted to add.

The excitement in her eyes shone bright as she dried her hands. “I’ll get the map while you finish up here. We’ve an hour until I have to take over at the pub. Let’s try to figure out the first challenge together.”

He grinned. Her reaction was exactly what he’d anticipated. She was as good as his. “Go on with ya, I’ll wash up and meet you in the salon.”

Practically dancing in her eagerness, she breezed by him, stopping only long enough to brush a feather-light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Again, he was overcome by an attack of conscience, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. Whatever underhanded trick he needed to use to sway Bridget back to his side, he’d do and be the happier for it.

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