Page 36 of Bracing The Storm

I slump in my seat, suddenly defensive. “No. Where would I see something like that in the city? We don’t usually have them at every corner. That place is reserved for street vendors.” My voice drips with sarcasm, but I can’t help myself. His arrogant smile is driving me insane. “And don’t look so smug. It’s not like you’ve been everywhere and seeneverything.”

He inclines his head and smirks, like he doesn’t agree. “I might have.”

He really is infuriating, bordering on obnoxious.

“Just drive,” I mutter under my breath. “And can you please make sure you don’t kill us in the process? I prefer myself alive rather than six feet under. No idea who gave you your driving license, but that person needs to take a crash course on safety.”

He chuckles again, but manages to keep his mouth shut for a change. I choose to ignore him throughout the remaining drive and keep my focus on the scenery. The landscape is lush green with pastures stretching over hills and dotted with cows grazing on grass. I think I even spy the ruins of a medieval fortress anda tree-lined bridleway snaking up to its once-imposing walls. I crane my neck to get a better look but the truck’s moving too fast, and I make a mental note to put it on my list of places to visit list.

A few minutes later, we reach the village and Patrick pulls up in front of an inconspicuous building with a glass front and a wooden sign on the sidewalk, advertising fresh fish. I frown, unsure why he’d stop in front of what looks like a fishmonger. As far as I remember, I didn’t mention any plans for cooking him dinner.

“Do you want me to wait for you or pick you up later?” Patrick says.

I turn to face him, almost expecting to find him laughing at me, but his expression is serious bordering on bored.

“What is this?” I point at the advert, frowning.

“You asked me to take you shopping.” He’s all wide-eyed innocence but his lips begin to twitch. “This is the local shopping center.”

I glance from him to the fishmonger’s then back to him. He can’t be serious! He can’t possibly be.

“Not good enough for you?” His brows shoot up. “Or do you need me to help you navigate your way around? Fine, then.”

Heaving an exasperated sigh, he gets out of his truck and rounds it to hold the door open for me. I have no choice but to get out, though my exit isn’t as graceful as I would like it to be. I’m not a fan of heights and his truck is higher than the cars I’m used to. Clutching at the armrest for support, I gather my handbag and struggle to climb down. Because there is no step I miscalculate the height, and for a moment my feet feel like they’re dangling in mid-air, sending a bout of panic through me. With a shriek I let go of the armrest and topple right into Patrick, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs. His arms go aroundmy waist to steady me, and his mouth comes dangerously close to mine.

He’s so close my throat goes dry and I forget to breathe. My gaze flicks between his lips and his eyes, as my brain seems to have deserted me. I know I should peel myself out of his embrace, make it clear that any kind of proximity between us isn’t welcome. But I’m frozen to the spot, unable to form a single coherent thought.

All I can think about is his hot breath on my skin and the way his strong hands seem to apply just the right amount of pressure on my body, not too hard but not too gentle either.

I want him to want me.

The thought sends the telltale heat of a major blush to my face. I can only hope he’s color-blind and can’t see it, but his hooded eyes tell a different story. His lips move closer to mine. Less than an inch of air divides us. My body is on fire, eager to close that space. The muscles of his arms flex around me, as though to keep me in place, pressed against his hard chest.

There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

His mouth comes closer. I part my lips in eager expectation, mentally begging him to just kiss me already.

“Paddy, is that you?” a voice calls out.

It takes me a moment to realize someone’s standing behind us, watching our intimate exchange. The magic is broken. My brain suddenly seems to have resumed its job, and I tear myself out of Patrick’s arms.

“Sean, good to see you,” he says, but his gaze is fixed on me. The hunger I thought I saw before is gone as his eyes flash with annoyance and something else?—

Regret?

I can’t be sure, but my heart skips a beat at the prospect that he wanted the kiss as much as I did.

“I didn’t know you were back. When did you get here?” Sean asks.

I turn to put a face to the name.

Sean is at least thirty years older and half a head shorter than Patrick, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing Patrick in a bear hug that would have any normal person struggling for breath. The cream sweater Sean’s wearing smells faintly of sheep, and his green, plain kilt barely covers a pair of bony knees. But it’s the red hair that stands out.

I’ve never seen such a hairy person in my life. There’s so much of it—on his head, covering his cheeks, his legs. I think I even glimpse a tuft sprouting out of his ears.

I don’t want to stare, and yet I can’t help myself as the association with a leprechaun springs to mind.

“And your lady friend would be?” Sean asks.

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