The Mystic Cove Series Boxed Set (Wild Irish Books 1-4)

by Tricia O'Malley

  Too many lives had been lost there.

  And, yet. The cove seemed to accept its own, Morgan thought as she hurried down the quiet street, only the bakery showing a dim light and movement. Houses and shops clustered together on cluttered roads that all led down to the harbor. It was common to find unique places tucked among the shops, like one place that operated as a hardware store during the day and as a small pub at night. People in Grace's Cove were nothing if not inventive.

  And, not shy to capitalize on an opportunity. Just as many people came to Grace's Cove to catch a glimpse of the enchanted cove as they did to enjoy the quaint, small town that boasted stunning views of the water. Pubs, restaurants, and bed and breakfasts made a killing here in the summer.

  It was the winter months that were the lean times. Morgan sniffed the air, happy to scent that the chill of winter was dispersing and the balm of spring was rolling in. Working on the fishing boat had been particularly grisly during the winter months, but Morgan had been determined to hack it, which in turn had won over the grudging respect of the other members of Flynn's crew.

  Reaching the docks, Morgan made her way down to Flynn's pier, where a smaller fishing boat was tied.

  Today was a cove day then, Morgan thought and smiled happily.

  Morgan was the only one that Flynn could take into the cove with him. It was the place where he found the best fish and lobsters to supply his restaurants across Ireland. Fish caught there claimed a high price.

  It was an honor to be included on those trips, Morgan thought and raised a hand at Flynn as she came to the head of the boat.

  "Cove day?"

  "Aye," Flynn said.

  Chapter 2

  Flynn stood at the bow of the boat, coiling nets and dropping them in spots that would keep them from tangling together. Not for the first time, Morgan admired his darkly handsome looks, mentally congratulating Keelin on her excellent choice in men. Not only was Flynn ridiculously handsome, but he was also a good man and a solid employer. Morgan looked up to him like he was an older brother.

  And she supposed that he was, in his own right. The legend said that all female members of Grace O'Malley's bloodline held a touch of something special. Which would make her and Keelin related in an odd sort of way. And, through that, Flynn was a brother of sorts. Morgan had been relieved to work that out in her head after meeting Keelin. She'd begun to worry that she was developing a bit of a crush on Flynn. Once she'd moved him into the family zone in her head, it had disappeared entirely.

  The boat that Flynn used for fishing in the cove was low and sleek, the fiberglass sides painted a cheerful red. Inside, it held all of the modern amenities that a boat could want, including a small bathroom tucked below that Morgan was forever grateful for. It wasn't the first time that her being a female on an all-male fishing crew had caused some awkwardness.

  Morgan hopped easily from the dock to the deck of the boat and moved to tuck her small bag with her food and apartment keys in a cubby beneath the steering wheel.

  "Bait done?"

  "Not yet," Flynn said and Morgan nodded and moved to the back of the boat where lobster pots were stacked. Though much of what they caught was through the nets, lobster from the cove fetched a premium price. Without fail, they always found the largest and healthiest lobsters there. It would be the first lobster catch of the season as they edged into late spring and Morgan suspected that the baskets they had laid a day ago would already be full.

  A bucket of herring stood near the baskets and Morgan had zero hesitation about shoving her hands into the mushy wetness of dead fish. She hummed to herself as she worked, barely noticing when Flynn started the boat and pulled slowly away from the dock. She took her time baiting the baskets, making sure each piece was secure in the small mesh bag before moving on to the next. When finished, she leaned over the side of the boat, dipping her hands in the cold water to rinse the bits of fish from her fingers.

  "Coffee's there," Flynn said, nodding to a thermos he had put next to the passenger seat.

  "Thanks," Morgan said, moving to the front of the boat to stand by him.

  This was her favorite part of the day. As the sun crept over the horizon of the still water of the harbor, shafts of light stretched across the water, slowly illuminating the brightly colored buildings of the village. One by one, lights began to pop on and the village awoke as the boat puttered out into deeper waters.

  Because this was Flynn's smaller boat, he kept closer to the shoreline than he would have with his larger fishing vessels. Morgan found herself scanning the large cliffs that jutted from the water just outside the village, dominating the coastline with their impressive presence, and drawing thousands of tourists every summer. They were stunning in their command of space, but Morgan always felt a tug of sadness when she looked up at them. There was something raw and elemental about the cliffs, jutting out of the deep ocean water to put her humanness in perspective, she thought.

  "How's the new place?" Flynn asked.

  "Good, thanks. I'm so grateful that Shane set it up for me," Morgan said. Flynn knew that she had been living in her van and yet had never questioned her about it. Another reason that she loved working for him. The man knew when not to ask questions.

  "Do you have everything that you need?"

  "Aye, I do. I got a bed and Aislinn helped me to decorate. It's really a perfect space for me," Morgan said.

  "Good, we all need a place of our own," Flynn said and left it at that.

  Morgan silently agreed with him. She just hadn't realized it until she had gotten her apartment. A hole inside her had been filled the day that she signed the lease and for the first time in years, she looked towards her future with hope.

  "Offering is up front," Flynn said quietly as they approached two large cliffs that ended in rocky points, for all the world looking like stony guards that protected the entrance to the cove. Morgan didn't have to ask what he meant. It was understood by those that were allowed to enter the cove that an offering must first be given in order to ensure their safety. Morgan didn't question it.

  Morgan made her way to the bow of the boat and found the small mesh bag. Shifting it around she could see the glint of metal and some crystals. Flynn cut the engine and silence surrounded them as they drifted into the still waters of the cove. Her heart clenched – just for a moment – as it always did whenever they entered the cove. Whether people would admit it or not, there was powerful magick here. Morgan could feel the weight of it press against her skin as though she was passing through a thin veil of smoke. Steam drifted into the sky from the still waters of the cove and the cliffs hugged the water in an almost perfect half-circle. A sandy beach stretched at the base of the cliffs, looking for all the world like the perfect picnic spot. Instead, it lay empty, the waves lapping gently against the golden sand.

  Morgan hefted the bag and spoke loudly, her words echoing back to her from the cliff walls. "We would like to offer you these gifts as a sign of our respect for your waters. We promise not to harm the cove, nor are we here for unworthy purposes." Morgan never repeated the same words when she entered the cove, but the intent was the same.

  We mean no harm.

  We respect these sacred waters.

  With those words, she tossed the bag into the water and it disappeared into the depths with a soft little plop.

  "Let's check the pots," Flynn said and Morgan pulled herself away from the front of the boat.

  It was time for work.

  Hours later, Morgan stretched her back while looking at the pile of baskets in the back of the boat. The baskets had been teeming with large lobsters when they'd pulled them from the water and Flynn had been delighted with the haul. All in all, it had been a peaceful, if not busy, day. Flynn and Morgan typically worked in silence, with Flynn humming along to the music from the small radio in the dash. Morgan didn't mind the physical labor as it left her alone with her thoughts.

  And, lately, she'd been thinking a lot about the manager
ial position that Aislinn had been nudging her towards at the gallery.

  It wasn't that she didn't want to take it – she'd do anything for Aislinn. It was just that the old insecurities that had plagued her since childhood had crept up, making her question her ability to do the job well. She'd rather not take the job than fail Aislinn in any way.

  Reaching a decision, even though it made her a little sad, had her slumping down in the seat next to Flynn and letting out a small sigh.

  Flynn cast her a quick glance. "How are things at the gallery?"

  Morgan sliced a glance at him. "Sure and I could swear that Cait was the one with the mind-reading powers, not yourself," she said, smiling up at him.

  Flynn raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. "Work on your mind?"

  "Aye, Aislinn wants me to manage the store."

  "Well, that's a wonderful opportunity. It will allow Aislinn more time to paint and it's clear you've an eye for what you're doing."

  Morgan angled her head at Flynn as the shoreline whipped past them.

  "How so?"

  "And weren't you the one responsible for the fancy design at her showing? What about the way the shop's been rearranged or how Aislinn's now selling prints of her work around the world? Surely that wasn't all Aislinn's work?"

  Morgan couldn't help but smile at his words.

  "I suppose that I've had a bit of a hand in that," she said.

  "I'd say. Listen, I love Aislinn but she isn't the most business-minded. Half the time she closes the gallery on a whim to go painting."

  "Which I've put my foot down about," Morgan said firmly.

  "See? You'll do just fine."

  "I don't know," Morgan said softly, shrugging her shoulders.

  "Are you worried about quitting this job?"

  "I don't want to lose it or leave you hanging," Morgan said on a rush of words. "You took a chance on me when nobody else would and it means the world to me."

  Flynn slowed the boat to a crawl and turned to look at her.

  "I won't be upset if you take the job. You deserve it."

  "But, what will you do about going into the cove? Nobody else can do that with you."

  "I've been doing it for years prior to you coming here," Flynn pointed out gently.

  "Well, what if we made the cove day on Mondays when the gallery is closed?"

  "Yes, I could do that, set up the pots over the weekend and then come in with you on Mondays," Flynn agreed easily and Morgan felt her stomach turn a bit.

  "Did I just take the job at the gallery?" she wondered out loud.

  Flynn laughed and patted her shoulder before turning back to the wheel and punching the engine up a notch.

  "Sure and it seems like you did," he called to her over the sound of the motor.

  Morgan smiled at him but inside her stomach was doing flips.

  "We'll see," she said and shut her mouth, mulling over her words as the boat zipped into harbor. The village was busy this late in the afternoon and it made her smile to see people bustling about their day, going from market to home. Groups of school children in their uniforms raced through the town, taunting and teasing each other. And the lights at Flynn's restaurant shone bright.

  "You'll be taking this batch here?" Morgan asked, motioning from the lobsters to his restaurant.

  "Aye, if we have too many, I'll dry-ice the lot of them and send them up to Galway," Flynn said with a nod.

  Morgan nodded and hopped easily from the boat to the dock as Flynn brought the boat near. Grabbing the large rope at the front of the boat, she tied it quickly to the dock, securing it and running back to the end of the boat to tie up that side as well. Working fast, they transferred the lobsters quickly.

  "Run those up for me while I clean up the boat," Flynn instructed.

  Morgan glanced at the mess of the boat.

  "You sure?"

  "Aye," Flynn said and waved her away.

  Morgan hefted the lobsters that were in two large buckets filled with seawater. Though she was slim, she wasn't weak. Even so, the weight of the buckets made her step carefully down the dock, worried that she would spill the lobsters out. As she reached the boardwalk that ran the length of the harbor, she turned to the right and began to make her way towards Flynn's restaurant.

  "Need help?"

  A voice like whiskey with a hint of sex called to her and Morgan immediately felt herself stiffen. Telling herself to calm down, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

  "Hey, Patrick." She smiled easily.

  Patrick Kearney hustled down the boardwalk towards Morgan and her heart twisted a bit. A wide smile combined with stormy gray eyes and a head of dark hair was enough to cause any girl to stop and stare. The fact that he'd taken an interest in Morgan had done nothing to ease her nervousness around him. In fact, it made it worse. She fumbled with buckets as he drew near. Patrick smiled and bent and for a brief moment, Morgan thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he slipped his hands under the handles of both buckets and lifted them with ease from hers.

  "I can do that," Morgan said stiffly, then wanted to kick herself for sounding ungrateful.

  "I know you can; 'tis easier for me as I carry buckets of ice all day long," Patrick said easily and swung up the small hill towards Flynn's restaurant. Patrick was head bartender and part-time manager of Cait's pub. He could often be seen doing everything from pouring a pint to serving food. Morgan liked that about him. He didn't mind pulling up his sleeves and getting the job done – no matter what was needed.

  Morgan supposed that she had the same style of work ethic as she never hesitated to put the extra bit of work in as needed.

  "Sure and it was a grand day to be on the water," Patrick commented as she fell into step next to him.

  "Aye, 'tis true. One of our first real balmy days. I'm looking forward to more like it," Morgan offered, grateful for the easy conversation.

  "How was the cove?" Patrick asked.

  Morgan stiffened and shot him a glance.

  "Fine. How do you know we were there?"

  Patrick motioned with a bucket. "Best lobster comes from the cove."

  "Aye, they do," Morgan agreed and then left it at that. At Aislinn's art showing earlier this year, Morgan had been surprised to find out that Patrick knew about some of the extra special abilities that the other women had. She'd been amazed at his seemingly easy acceptance of the fact that his boss could read his mind. Morgan wondered if he would be as accepting if he knew that the person he wanted to date had more power than the lot of them combined.

  I should ask her to dinner. Maybe this time she'll say yes, Patrick thought. Morgan grimaced and slammed down the walls in her mind. She wasn't as strong as Cait was with reading minds so a stray thought slipped through now and then.

  Morgan wasn't sure if she was ready to go to dinner with Patrick. After a long day on the boat, she just wanted to go home, shower, and curl up with a book. Morgan valued her space and, unknown to anyone else, she was slowly studying used business books that she purchased when she could afford them. If she was going to take on this job at Aislinn's, Morgan was determined to make it a success.

  "I can't wait to get home and put my feet up, it's sure been a long day," Morgan said quickly, hoping to stop Patrick in his tracks.

  A quick flicker of disappointment crossed Patrick's face and then his friendly smile returned.

  "What time are you on the water in the morning?"

  "Typically we are out there by five in the morning," Morgan said and then laughed when Patrick gave a dramatic shudder. "Not all of us can stay up all night drinking pints with the locals," she joked.

  "It's more than that," Patrick said stiffly and Morgan immediately felt bad.

  "I was just joking," she said as they reached the back door of Flynn's restaurant.

  "Aye, I know. Alright then, enjoy your early night," Patrick said and patted her shoulder gently before walking away. She watched him move with an easy grace that she envied. People shouted greet
ings to him as he walked towards the pub and he'd wave a hand or shout back. Everyone knew and loved Patrick.

  Nobody knew her.

  It was enough to have her turn away and smile distractedly at Flynn's chef as he came to the back door. It would be wise of her not to forget that Patrick was the town's golden boy and she was still a mysterious outcast. It was better for her not to get too close to him.

  She'd learned long ago that forming bonds brought questions.

  And Morgan wasn't prepared to answer any of them.

  "Day's catch," Morgan said with a smile and the chef nodded and scooped the buckets from the stoop. A waft of air filled with the tantalizing smell of butter and garlic caused her stomach to growl and she wished that she could afford to eat at Flynn's restaurant.

  Instead, Morgan tucked her hair behind her shoulder and headed for her little apartment, keeping her head down to avoid meeting the eyes of people on the street.

  Chapter 3

  Patrick watched Morgan scurry up the road like a frightened mouse, her shoulders hunched and her eyes on the street in front of her. She missed the appreciative male gazes that lit upon her as well as the friendly smiles of the locals. The message was loud and clear – leave me alone.

  He sighed and reached up to massage a knot in his neck. Ever since Morgan had come to town, Patrick had eyes for no other. There was just something about her that had hooked him immediately. The most obvious fact being that she was mind-numbingly gorgeous. Her slim body with moody eyes the color of the sea after a storm coupled with her shy demeanor made him want to dig beneath the surface to find out more about her.

  And hadn't that gone well the last time he had tried?

  Patrick groaned and made his way towards the pub as he flashed back to that night in Aislinn's courtyard when he had helped Morgan to carry some driftwood pieces to the gallery. The sun had been setting and it had cast a warm glow over her smooth skin, lighting up her eyes and drawing his gaze to her full lips. He'd felt compelled to lean down to kiss her.