Page 36 of Edge of Whispers

“Because of Brian?”

Vivi’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe. Among other things. There’s also the issue of working hard and always being on the road. And besides, the pool of guys who’d be into an oddball like me is pretty small to begin with.”

“Brian was six years ago,” I said. “He can’t derail your life forever.”

Vivi’s mouth tightened. “Knowing it doesn’t really seem to help all that much.”

Something in Vivi’s voice made me back off. God knows, I wasn’t anyone to judge, with my history of romantic train wrecks. I studied my sister’s averted face. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be a bitch about it. I just hate him so much. But I love you. Like crazy. And I’m so glad he’s out of the picture.”

Vivi waved her hand, brushing the subject away. “Forget Brian. He’s a dull, boring little putz. Your six-foot-two carpenter with his tight belly and his proportional ass is way more interesting. I can hardly wait to check him out tomorrow.”

“Me, neither,” Nell said, with relish.

I let out a puzzled sigh. Somehow, I’d come full circle, and led them both back around to busting my balls again. Ah, the joys of sisterhood.

Moxie started kneading my thigh, claws out. I unsnagged her sharp little nails from my jeans and reached for another beer. “You guys,” I muttered. “Please.”

Nell nudged my arm. “We don’t mean to torture you,” she said earnestly. “Well, actually, we kind of do, but it’s not malicious, I promise. It’s just so nice to have something fun and frivolous to talk about, you know? Be patient. We’ve been so sad and confused lately. Your proportional-assed carpenter is hard for us to resist.”

I squeezed Nell’s hand. She was right. It was nice to hear my sisters laughing. To chatter and bicker about men, dating, silly crushes, butthead ex-boyfriends, proportional asses. Silly, nonessential things. Nothing earthshaking.

Not that I would characterize that kiss in the rain as frivolous or lighthearted.

And earthshaking was putting it mildly.

Chapter Twelve

Liam

She wouldn’t show up. I was sure of it, but like an idiot, I kept checking my watch every minute or so since I’d walked into Malloy’s and took my fiddle, flutes, and whistles out of their bags and cases. I took a swallow of Guinness and wondered why I was torturing myself. The woman’s cell phone alone would drive me insane.

I couldn’t believe my own idiocy. Offering myself as an unpaid bodyguard? And then getting all up on my high horse when she called me on my bullshit. Oh, sure, I’d keep her real safe, you bet, yesireebob. Nobody would mess with her while she was snug and warm in my bed, pinned to the mattress beneath my heaving body.

But my eyes kept drifting to the bar entrance. I wanted to see her again. Hear her voice. I liked the way her mind worked, the way her brow furrowed when she was thinking. Those big gold-brown eyes. The way she wrinkled her nose when she was disgusted, which appeared to be fairly often. And when I kissed her, oh dear God. The rain that fell on me yesterday should have evaporated into pure steam.

“Yo! Earth to Liam! Come in, Liam!” Mickey the guitar player brayed into my ear. “Do that set of reels you did last week that ends with ‘The Tinker’s Bride,’ okay? I want to try out a new accompaniment.”

“Sure.” I took another swig of his pint. My watch said 11:07. I had to just get the hell over myself and concentrate on the music. I tuned up my fiddle.

We had just launched into “The Tinker’s Bride” when she walked in. I felt her presence even before she pushed through the crowd. A smile spread across my face, and by the time she made it back to the table, it had turned into a big grin. I started speeding up. The other musicians gave me panicked looks, dropping out one by one until only Eoin played with me.

We finished with a flourish, to appreciative hoots and hollers.

She looked softer tonight. Amazingly, her hair was shiny and loose, thick and wavy, hanging long down her back. She was wearing jeans and a snug, low-cut red T-shirt that made her skin glow and showed off the perfect shape of those pert, suckable tits.

Her big eyes were cautious behind her glasses. I put down my fiddle and made my way over to her as the group tore into “The Red-haired Boy.” Her eyes widened as I boldly kissed her, as if I had the right. She smelled incredible. Her lips were so soft.

She swayed back. “Whoa,” she said with a nervous laugh. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Fuck no.” I slid my arms around her and kissed her again. Doubling down.

It started to happen again, like it had yesterday. The world fell away, the noise of the bar fading, my focus narrowing down to just Nancy and my own pounding heartbeat. I could barely hear the music.

I forced myself to pull away, then glanced over my shoulder to a table-full of smirks, and nudges. Eoin lifted his pint with a smile, his eyes discreetly curious.

Nancy’s face was pink. “Did I mess up?” I asked her.

“Ah…not necessarily. I’m not used to guys just grabbing me.”

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