Page 50 of Hot Irish Halloween

“Beer? For Heaven’s sake! Irish coffee, Irish stew. Is there anything there without alcohol in it?” Erica exclaimed.

“Cereal?”

“Well, just tell Jack to go easy. Anyway, Penelope, about the book. I hope when you’re done, you can finally start thinking again about performing. With the violin. At a proper venue, not some juke joint in the hills. Remember all that money your father and I shelled out, putting you through years of lessons. Not to mention Julliard! You are so talented. Please do not spend any more time letting that go to waste.”

If Penny kept rolling her eyes like that, all those old wives’ warnings about them getting stuck in her head might actually come to pass.

Erica Mayfield had been cool toward him since Penny casually dropped that she was dating a local. Her mother made it clear she was not impressed by pretty much anything about him, not even the oversized bank account when she’d found out how he’d earned that money. And even though Penny had given upplaying the violin for at least a century before he came along, Erica still somehow believed he was partially responsible for her self-exile from the high society of classical music.

Russell Mayfield, on the contrary, turned out to be a fan. Jack would have loved to tell him his daughter had already said yes to getting married, but that would not be the case. His beautiful woman was still stubbornly holding out on making their relationship legal.

Despite them having unprotected sex every day, she said it was “too soon” for something as permanent as marriage. Jack suspected timing wasn’t the issue. He had a pretty good fucking idea what the issue really was.

He tuned Erica out while he stirred, surreptitiously giving Trixie a bite of the meat, which she happily accepted with a wagging tail. Then she went to paw at Penny’s leg until she was picked up and placed on Penny’s lap. Jack wanted to be held close to those gorgeous tits too. He planned on sucking them later that night, among other things.

“…. goodbye Jack.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Mayfield,” he said when he realized he was being addressed.

That was progress. She usually rang off without acknowledging him at all.

“Can you believe her?” Penny huffed with indignation once the call was over. “A juke joint? What the fuck? She acts like it’s 1925, and I’m a vagrant side character inThe Color Purple.”

“You do be sounding like one when you play the banjo riff from ‘Old Man’ in the morning. Every morning.” He smiled to himself when Penny made a sound of exasperation.

“I’ve explained this to you. I need to play Neil Young in the morning or the whole day after is weird.”

“If you say so. You’re lucky, anyway. Not many parents want their kids to be musicians. They could have pushed you to become a solicitor or a judge like your father,” he said.

“She should support my desire to be a published author,” Penny retorted haughtily, setting the silverware on their napkins at the table. Pretty floral cotton napkins of her choosing. “I guess that doesn’t sound prestigious enough for her fancy lady society friends compared to having aconcert violinistfor a daughter.”

“Dierdre wasn’t happy when I decided to go pro. She didn’t believe getting paid half a mil per fight was worth getting me pretty face bashed in. Never came to a single one. Hated seeing me hurt. Doesn’t mean she wasn’t supportive in her own way.”

Jack turned the cooker off, having taken one final taste and deciding the stew was done. He ladled two decent helpings into the ramekins Penny had bought. He’d had a fairly complete kitchen before she showed up, but it had been pretty spartan: one bowl, one spoon, one fork for everything. Her additions were a nice touch.

Placing the bowls on the placemats, which she had also bought, they sat together at the table and began to eat. The meat was tender, and the broth was thick. The potatoes flaked apart when they were merely touched.

“Good job, Jack. Oh my God…” she moaned.

“I prefer it when you say that in bed,” he said, and she punched his arm lightly.

Jack glanced at her, then took a few more bites while Trixie whined for a bite of her own. Penny gave it to her, then put Trixie down.

“You already ate,” he told Trixie sternly. But he relented and went to put some hunks of meat in her bowl.

“You better not get her drunk, or I’m telling your mother.”

Whereas Erica still had a long way to go warming up to Jack, it was a totally different story for Penny and Dierdre. His motherhad been thrilled he was finally dating again. And not just dating butseriouslydating. He couldn’t get the two of them off the phone when Dierdre and Bran checked in.

“Oh, sure, run and tell on me like you did last week. If she doesn’t like how I take care of her dog, then she should come get her,” Jack said. Penny made a face at him, and he pinched her cheek gently. “They’re extending their trip. Bran wants to spend a month in Italy. They’re thinking about buying a condo in Sicily.”

“Oh, I can see why. Sicily is awesome. I stayed at the cutest little bungalow on the beach while I was there. I never knew they had black sand beaches till I saw it. I always said I’d go back to visit my friend Guiseppe. The one that makes mandolins.”

“Right, the mandolin.” Jack ate thoughtfully. “How long were you in Italy for research?”

“Mm…about a year or so? My base was in Sicily, but I traveled to a couple of other places. Rome, Florence. Venice was amazing.”

“I haven’t been. None of my fights were held there.” Jack was silent again for a moment. “Y’know…we haven’t heard any blowback about your book since the festival. I guess that gobshite Stillwell changed his mind about badmouthing your work.”

---