Page 37 of Edge of Whispers

“Did your other boyfriends ask nicely before they kissed you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a loaded question. But no, I don’t think they did. To be truthful, I don’t think it was ever much of an issue before.”

Huh. Maybe this was a can of worms better steered around, rather than dived into. At least until I’d made more progress. “Can I get you a drink?”

“You said the Guinness was good, right?”

“Best this side of the Atlantic.” I elbowed my way to the bar and got her a pint.

When I passed it over, she sipped it and sighed with an expert’s appreciation.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” I said.

She licked foam off her lip. “I still don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Me neither, but I don’t care,” I said recklessly. I dragged another chair to the musicians’ table and sat her down next to me, boldly taking her hand. Winding my fingers through her cooler ones, to warm them. In the confusion that followed the end of the set, she leaned over to me. “I want to hear you play!” she shouted.

Her warm, sweet breath against my neck was as sweet as a kiss. I picked up my fiddle, Mickey called another set, and we were off and tearing along on a set of jigs.

It was a good group. Guitar, fiddles, bodhrán, accordion, and Eoin, locked in a trance of perfect happiness, his fingers flashing as he played his Uilleann pipes.

Nancy clapped vigorously as we finished the set and leaned over.

“You guys are great!” she said, her eyes alight with pleasure. “You kick ass on that fiddle, Liam! Where’d you learn to play?”

“My stepdad played the fiddle,” I replied. “He got me into it when I was a kid. And I picked up the flutes and whistles a few years back, just for fun. I’d rather mess around with them than watch TV.”

“You’re hot,” she said. “Did you ever think of going pro?”

I used the excuse of having to talk over the noise into her ear to kiss the soft skin behind it, and smell her sweet shampoo. “For about ten minutes,” I admitted. “Figured that would take all the fun out of it.”

“Hmm. I guess you might be right. Who’s the piper?”

“Oh, Eoin? He’s my cousin. Second cousin, actually. Fresh from County Wicklow. He works for me. Lives in my basement. Good kid.”

“He’s fabulous,” she said.

“Yeah, isn’t he? He just lights on fire when he plays those pipes.”

That was all there was time to say before we plunged into another set, reels this time, as raucous and wild as the set before.

After the set she leaned over again. “Would your cousin be interested in touring with a hot band that gigs a lot?”

I was taken aback. “Who? You mean, Eoin?”

“I don’t want to put you in a bind. You know, poaching from your crew. But we need a piper, and he rocks.”

Nancy’s eyes glowed. The world was warm and generous tonight, and so was I.

“Ask him,” I suggested. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. He lives to play those pipes.”

We played a set of slip jigs as she retreated to the far side of the room to talk into her phone, a big happy smile on her face.

She came back and sat down next to me again looking satisfied. “This is the answer to my prayers,” she said. “Matt and Eugene are on their way over, but I’m sure it’s a done deal, if he’s interested.”

“You work fast,” I said.

She looked suspicious. “Wait. Are you sure you don’t mind me stealing him?”

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