Page 68 of Bracing The Storm

Patrick leans over me and brushes a stray strand out of my face. The look in his eyes is tender, almost affectionate. I realize I could get lost in those eyes, never to be found again. I’m desperately afraid of falling for him while, at the same time, I don’t think I can let him pass by.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his tone as gentle as his expression.

“A little worse for wear but otherwise good,” I whisper because his proximity takes my breath away. “What happened? I don’t remember anything after falling overboard.”

“Is that what you did? I thought you had jumped in to save Seamus.” His eyes flicker with amusement.

“I wish,” I mumble. “Trust me to almost find my untimely demise on a rescue mission.”

“You almost did,” he says. “If I hadn’t seen you and fished you out of the water the current could have swept you miles away and we wouldn’t have found you in the darkness.”

I shudder at the thought that if it weren’t for Patrick I could have died.

“So you brought me here.” I look around me, eager to escape the intensity of his gaze.

He nods. “I wanted to take you to the hospital but it’s a long drive, and with the storm it would have taken even longer. Our medic had a look at you. Apparently, you got away with a few bruises and minor hypothermia. She advised that I keep you warm so here you are.”

“You have your very own medic in Gleann Searúill? I’m impressed.”

“Not quite. She’s a vet.” He laughs at my horrified expression and hurries to add, “Don’t be surprised. We have more livestock than people around here so it makes perfect sense. But our vet’s very good. Very gentle. All the cows love her. We’re working on getting an actual doctor. Let’s just say the hiring process has been taking a while.”

I cock a brow. “As in ‘no applicants’?”

“Can you blame them? I’m not even sure we’re on the map.” He winks. “We actually are, but the place is so tiny tourists tend to overlook it.”

“That’s what I thought initially. I couldn’t wait to get away but there’s something about this place. It’s beautiful, life-changing.” More likely, it was the man with the storm-gray eyes and the accent that could penetrate any woman’s protective walls. But I don’t need to tell him that when his ego is already through the roof.

“It is a great place,” Patrick says softly. “You’ll love living here.”

My heart flutters in my chest, full of stupid, blind hope, building castles in the clouds—the Disney movies kind.

“Did you find Seamus?” I ask, eager to change the subject before I end up throwing myself at his feet, just like the gazillion other females out there. “I hope you didn’t have to break off the entire operation to save my sorry ass.”

“Oh, we found him.” He smirks and leans back, putting a few more inches between us. I’m finally able to breathe again. “Right where I thought he’d be: passed out somewhere. Apparently he had finished a bottle of whiskey before the storm hit and was sleeping it off on the cot beneath the deck of his boat. We found him snoring without a care in the world. Not even the storm had woken him. Patty was livid when we dumped him on her doorstep. She’ll give him a piece of her mind storm tonight, that’s for sure.”

I can’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkle with affection. “I’m glad he’s well. You seem very fond of them.”

“I grew up with these people. It’s only natural that I care what happens to them.” He clears his throat and stands, something changing in this mood again. I sense the change of topic before he says, “I’ll make you a sandwich. All that physical exertion must have left you starving.”

“Thank you.” I watch as he leaves the room, then settle back against the pillows. In the sudden silence, I’m strangely aware that I’m in his personal space, surrounded by his belongings. Last time I didn’t get a chance to look around but now I do.

I don’t want to pry but I can’t help myself.

Craning my neck to get a better view, I sweep my gaze over the vast room. The furniture is sparse but tasteful; the décor is kept in muted colors. Everything looks tidy and exudes masculinity and strength yet it has a warm, cozy touch to it. There’s a shirt draped over the back of a chair and an old book with a creased spine sits on the night table on the other side ofthe bed. I sink deeper into the sheets and inhale his heady scent—a mixture of shower gel andPatrick.His scent. The essence of his being.

I’ve never felt so strange in my life. Both nervous and exhilarated. Anxious to run my fingertips across the smooth fabric the way I’d love to brush them over his smooth skin and explore every part of the man I’m falling for.

“I didn’t know what you like,” Patrick says from the door, interrupting my thoughts.

Does the guyalwayshave to come in at the most unfortunate times and catch me doing the weirdest things?

Hoping he won’t notice the sudden heat rushing to my face, I quickly sit up straight and pretend I’m busy fluffing the pillow. “I’m fine with whatever as long as it’s not a salad. I’d rather starve than eatthat.”

“It’s not salad. I think we’ve established your dislike of it. I’m not a fan of it either. If it weren’t for my manager and the strict diet he has put me on, I’d probably give it a pass, too.”

He places a plate on my lap.

“This looks great. Thank you. I’m famished.” No idea what his concoction of a sandwich is but I think I can identify some cheese in here. My stomach grumbles with appreciation. Any guy feeding me cheese and chocolate is bound to have a lasting place in my heart, particularly after saving my life.

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