Page 36 of Tempting Irish

“I guess itis.”

“I just wish ye would’ve come sooner.” Her hand rests on my forearm, and she squeezes itgently.

I let out a shaky breath. “I figured when you didn’t write or call, that you all forgot aboutme.”

“Oh, Bree, I wrote ye a hundred letters! But I never got any inreturn.”

I blink at her. “That’s not possible. I didn’t get them.” Confusion wars inside of me. My mom would never have kept the letters from me; she knew how much I missed my family. And all the letters I wrote to Emer—to Owen—why wouldn’t she have sentthem?

I know theanswer.

Frank.

It had to have been him who threw them out. The man was controlling, sometimes violent, but I never imagined he was thatcruel.

I knew he never liked my Aunt Agnus. He’d rant that she was a nosey busybody who’d be happy if their marriage broke up. He started restricting our calls, saying the long-distance charges were tooexpensive.

Had he made her throw out theletters?

“All this time, Ithought…”

Emer wraps her arms around me, crushing me against her extended belly. When she pulls back, her eyes are glistening withtears.

“Ye’re home now. That’s all that matters. Now, tell me what ye did to get under Owen’sskin.”

I wince, heat creeping into my cheeks as I say, “I...kissedhim.”

Her mouth drops open and her brows raise, but then she says with a touch of humor, “Was it thatbad?”

“No.” I laugh, despite how rotten I feel. “It was…perfect.But…”

“Butwhat?”

“He didn’t know who I was. I should have told him last night. And now he thinks I deceived him on purpose. Maybe I did. But I didn’t mean to. I didn’t come here for this. Not really…” I’m rambling now, not making any sense. “Now, he has my luggage held hostage in hisroom.”

Emer starts tolaugh.

“What’s sofunny?”

“It makes sense now. Owen’s expression at breakfast, when he figured out who yewere.”

I grumble. “He hatesme.”

“No. There’s not an ounce of hate in that man’s body. Unless it’s for himself. But I can imagine hisshock.”

“I know I should have told him who I was. But I was afraid…” More heat infuses my cheeks. I can’t believe I’m admitting this. “I wanted one night. That’sall.”

“Just one night?” She raises a brow and gives me a knowingsmile.

“It’s histhing.”

“Ah, yes.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard. But ye wantmore?”

“No. Maybe.” I sigh, and confess, “Of course, I want more. He’s Owen freakingGallagher.”

She chuckles. “I always knew ye had a crush onhim.”

“And he was in love with-” I stop myself before saying her name, and say instead, “Hismusic.”

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