Page 6 of Beer & Broomsticks

“Is that what I’m doing?”

He narrowed his eyes on Quentin’s handsome face. A face with flawless features that Ruairí so desperately wanted to rearrange.

Maintaining eye contact with him, Quentin raised his voice to ask, “Bridget, darling, when are you running away with me?”

Holly extended her arm and smacked the back of his dark head without turning in his direction or missing a beat in her conversation with Bridget.

Laughing, he winked at Ruairí a second time. “My prickly pear would murder me, in addition to cutting off my balls. As lovely as your woman is, I’m not interested.”

“It seems safer for all involved,” Ruairí acknowledged. “My beloved Bridget’s voice rivals that of a raving-mad banshee when she’s in a foul temper. The sound will make your puir ears bleed. She’d give your prickly pear a run for her money, sure she would.”

“My sympathies, man. I’ve been on the receiving end of a foul temper and a sharp tongue a time or two myself.”

The men tapped their glasses together in perfect accord under sour looks from the women.

Faster than Ruairí could blink, Bridget picked up the hose and squirted his crotch.

“Ya mad—”

Another spritz of water shut him up. He charged and ripped the nozzle from her hand. With a menacing grin, he soaked her shirt. “Two can play that game,mo ghrá.”

“But only one of us can be kicked in the bollocks, Ruairí O’Connor.”

“Andthatis our cue to leave.” Quentin scooped Frankie up in one arm and wrapped the other around Holly’s shoulders. “We’ll catch a bite in town. Have fun, lovebirds,” he called over his shoulder with a laugh.

“Coward!” Ruairí hollered back.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter, man. You’re on your own.”

The other guy had given him an idea, and Ruairí scooped Bridget up into a fireman’s hold then set her on the cooler by the register.

“I swear, I will rip your insides out and serve them up to you, if you ever touch me—”

He stopped her threat the only way he knew how—with his lips.

The wild beating of his heart was like a long lost relative returning home for a visit. Only Bridget had ever caused his pulse to gallop out of control as it now was. Lifting his hands to cup her jaw, he deepened the kiss, shocked she let him. He was even more surprised when she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to draw him closer.

The sound of the outer door slamming jerked them apart. For a long moment, their gazes locked, and the rawness in her stunning eyes ate at him. Apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he’d done enough of that in the past, and he was damned if he’d say he was sorry for what they’d just shared. Especially if it woke her up to how much he still loved and wanted her.

“Give me another chance, Bridget.Please,” he begged huskily.

Real regret clung to her words when she said, “I can’t.”

CHAPTER3

The next morning Bridget was scrambling eggs to serve the inn’s residents when Carrick’s wife, Roisin, strolled into the kitchen and stopped short with her hands on her hips.

“I told you I’d cook and serve this morning, Bridget. Do you not trust anyone else to do your chores?”

Bridget nodded to the full coffee pot. “Pour us both a cup, why don’t ya?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I trust you plenty. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Let me guess.” Roisin handed her a mug of black coffee, containing a single teaspoon of sugar. “Six feet of blond hair and brawny muscles who worked with you at the pub last night.”

After shooting Roisin a middle finger, Bridget dished up the eggs and handed them over. “Make yourself useful and set these on the table.”

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