by KT Webb
She opens a cupboard to reveal something that makes me burst out laughing.
“What?” Blake asks, expecting to find something funny in the narrow space.
“Did you buy stock in that company?”
On her counter sits a pod style coffee maker next to an obnoxiously large box of coffee pods. I know she is obsessed with coffee, so that doesn’t surprise me in the least. The part that has me giggling has been revealed with the opening of that cupboard door. Inside there are multiple cases of tiny, single-serve packets, clearly labeled as coffee creamer. I snatch one of them up and examine the package.
“This is the stuff you’ve been whining about?”
“Hey, that stuff makes coffee bearable enough to get my caffeine fix without turning to sugary soda. Maybe I’ll make you a proper cup of coffee and show you just how delicious these little pods of happiness are,” Blake has her hands on her hips.
I know she’s trying to look intimidating, but all I see is how adorable she is when she’s mildly irritated. My first instinct is to carefully place the creamer cup back with its kind and back away slowly with my hands raised in surrender.
“That’s right, mister. This is my house. I didn’t judge yours; you can’t judge mine.”
“Ah, you’re right. You didn’t judge my things. Instead, you made yourself at home and rifled through my closet. Totally acceptable behavior for a girl I’d only known a few months,” I arch an eyebrow in her direction, and her resolve cracks a little.
“Oh? And where did you sleep last night, Mr. Fitzpatrick?” Blake grins.
My cheeks redden slightly as though she knows by looking at me that I spent the entire night taking in her scent and dreaming about doing dirty things with her. Thank God, mind-reading isn’t actually possible. I chuckle and return my attention to the sausage sizzling in the pan.
“That smells great,” Molly yawns as she plops down at the kitchen table.
“Thanks, I figured you ladies deserved a nutritious breakfast after all the alcohol and junk food you had last night,” I point to each of them with the spatula.
“We had fun, that’s really all that matters. Right?” Blake shrugs while pouring a ridiculous number of creamer packets into her steaming coffee.
“I think so,” Molly mumbles with her face buried in her arms, “Why is it so bright in here?”
“There’s this crazy thing called morning. I know some of you aren’t accustomed to seeing that ball of light in the sky until it’s well past noon, but not all of us party all night on a regular basis,” Blake tells us.
“Hey! I do not party all night. I run a pub. That’s different.”
Both girls laugh at my excuse. Once breakfast is served, we gather around the table and dig in. I’m not sure if the girls just aren’t remembering what led to me staying over or if they’re both choosing to ignore it for a bit longer. I’ve already sent a text to Pat for a little help getting Molly some new tires, that will at least ease the situation a bit.
I’m going to have to do something about Roald. He has been allowed to do whatever he wants for so long that he no longer fears the consequences of his actions. My first thought is to get Blake out of Kinnitty for a few days. If she’s not here, I can talk to a few people and confront Roald without worrying about her getting hurt. I also find it unsettling that this attack seemed more focused on Molly. She’s his great-niece too, he’s known her since the day she was born. I can only imagine what her grandfather will have to say to his older brother when he hears about this. That thought leads me toward the plan that will not only help me deal with Roald but also help Blake get some of her extended family on her side. If they know all about his tactics, they may be more willing to stand against him.
“Molly, isn’t your band supposed to go on a mini-tour this week?” My question abruptly breaks the silence.
“We were supposed to, but Niall has a cold and Hugh’s being a big baby again. Thanks for reminding me though, I should cancel the hotel,” Molly produces her phone from her pocket.
“Actually, I thought it would be good for you and Blake to get out of town for a bit. Maybe you guys could go on tour without the band,” I suggest.
Blake stares at me as she slowly chews her breakfast. She’s onto me. At this point, she knows me well enough to know when I have something up my sleeve. Molly, on the other hand, releases a delayed squeal of excitement.
“Yes! That’s brilliant! There’s a lot to see in Belfast,” Molly rattles locations out.
“Sign me up,” Blake perks up.
“Yeah! We were supposed to play at a music festival in Belfast, we could stay there and explore Northern Ireland. I was going to drive up with the band, but that might not be feasible considering what happened to my car,” Molly deflates when she remembers the state of her tires.
I wave her off, “Pat and I are already on it. Don’t worry. Why don’t you guys head out today and see how far you can get before sunset. Maybe find a B&B along the way?” From the look on Blake’s face, I can tell I’m overselling it now.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me, Gannon,” she arches that eyebrow again.
“Oh, no! I just know you’ve been itching to see more than Dublin and Kinnitty. If you guys drive up through Northern Ireland, you could take a detour to see Giant’s Causeway. It’s breathtaking, really.”
Blake isn’t buying it, but she also isn’t pushing the matter right now. After a few more minutes of discussion, Molly manages to convince Blake that this is a fantastic idea. While Patrick and I change the slashed tires, the girls are rushing around the cottage, trying to pack Blake’s bags.
“What’s this about, Gan?” Patrick cranks the jack.
“I’ll give you one guess who would be stupid enough to pull something like this.”
“Roald? That old bastard did this to Molly? Do you think he knew that’s whose car he was vandalizing?” Patrick wipes his brow and shakes his head.
I nod, “She’s had this car for years, he knows. I think it was a message to Molly about her choice in friends.”
Patrick releases a low whistle, “Wait ‘til he finds out his own grandson introduced them!”
“About that, I have a plan, but I don’t want to talk about it until the girls are out of town,” I tell him as we finish changing the last tire.
Molly left to grab her things and will be back to pick Blake up when she’s ready. Now, I’m sitting on the couch next to Blake. I don’t want to leave her alone right now. I know she’s not helpless, but I hate the idea that Old Roald would return to find her alone. His recent actions haven’t exactly made me feel confident in his decision-making skills. Blake adjusts her position until she’s got her legs resting across my lap.
“May I assist you in some manner, miss?” I tease.
“No, sir, I think you’ve done quite enough for me lately,” Blake grins as she stretches.
“What are you thinking?”
The expression on her face is tough to read. If I had to guess, I’d probably say she’s scared, excited, and a little happy. I learned long ago that trying to read a woman’s feelings is a dangerous idea. Blake releases a sigh then sits up with her legs folded underneath her.
“I know you’re sending me off with Molly to get me out of town, but I haven’t quite determined why. I know Old Roald slit the tires, but I don’t entirely understand his motives. He can’t just hate my grandpa that much, can he?”
I shrug, I have no answers for her right now. “I wish I could tell you I know everything there is to know about that whole situation, but I can’t. You’re right, I am trying to get you out of town; for your own sake,” I turn to face her on the couch. “I want to find out what I can do to keep Old Roald from tormenting you further. Honestly, I worry that he’ll do something worse than break your hand if he thinks he can get away with it.”
Blake takes my hands in hers, and I can’t help but feel a thrill at her touch. My eyes travel from our joi
ned hands, up her body, and pause at her kissable lips before landing on her eyes. The electricity between us is undeniable. I can’t help but think about what it would feel like to surrender ourselves to this attraction. From the look on her face, I know she can read me like a book. Oops.
“Gannon, thank you. I know you prefer to stay out of other peoples’ drama. You have no idea how it makes me feel to know you’re here,” a slight blush creeps onto her freckled cheeks.
Damnit, this girl has me through and through. At this moment, I know I will do anything to have her look at me the way she is right now. There’s more than lust in her eyes, she needs me. Blake Molloy is looking at me like I’m the one thing keeping her from breaking. All I want is to pull her into my arms, so I do. I’m not going to make a move. This isn’t the time for me to push any limits. At this moment, Blake needs the comfort she finds in me.
Blake sits in my lap with her head resting against my shoulder, her face nestled into my neck. I’m going to have to picture the least sexy thing I can possibly conjure if I’m going to make it through this without her knowing what she does to me. My arms around her, cradling her against my chest. Blake slides one arm down to my chest, and the sensation of her touch through my t-shirt is perfect. I lean my head onto hers while she sighs.
“I can feel your heart beating,” Blake says. “Are you going to have a heart attack? It’s beating like crazy.”
“It tends to do that in high stakes situations,” my voice is rough.
“Oh!” Blake sits up as though she realizes she’s torturing me by being so close.
My arms act of their own accord, pulling her back against my body. I can’t have her the way I want, but I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to have her body on mine. One hand finds its way to her hair while the other holds her thigh.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” I whisper before planting a kiss on her head and inhaling her scent.
“Oh,” Blake says, her breath tickling my neck. “Well, I don’t want to cause you any undue stress.”
“You have no idea, do you?” The words are out of my mouth before I know they’re there.
“What do you mean?” Blake sits up to look in my eyes.
I want to pull her back to me and show her just what she does to me. I want to kiss her senseless. Right now, what I need is to show her that she has become as essential to me as oxygen. But the sound of tires crunching against gravel just outside the cottage breaks the spell. Blake seems to realize the compromising position we put ourselves in and stands up so quickly she has to lean over me to steady herself. I feel the absence of her body in a deeper place than I care to admit. I’m so screwed.
A road trip is just what the doctor ordered. It feels like we make it from Kinnitty to our first top in the blink of an eye. In reality, it took us about an hour and a half to reach the Hill of Tara. When Molly discovered I hadn’t visited that particular site, she insisted we make the detour before heading for Belfast. The roads in Ireland are much narrower than those in the United States, especially the rural routes. Of course, Molly is accustomed to passing a vehicle with inches to spare, but it doesn’t do a lot for my nerves. In fact, I don’t stop gripping the “oh shit” bar until we’ve parked.
I’ve been doing my best to focus on anything, but the moment I shared with Gannon right before Molly picked me up. I know we’ve been blurring the lines between friendship and more for nearly a month, but it doesn’t make me feel any more at ease. The way Gannon looked at me while he held me, the things he said, it all makes me wonder if he’s already jumped across the line. I wonder if I can talk my feelings through with Molly the way I once did with Maeve. It’s not like she has feelings for Gannon. She’d have told me if he was off-limits. Molly isn’t Maeve. I don’t believe for a single second that Molly would sneak around and pursue someone I was even remotely interested in; she’d tell me to my face before it ever got to that point.
“Blake, are you coming?” Molly’s voice breaks through my wandering thoughts.
She’s already unbuckled and preparing to exit the car. Oops. How did I miss so much movement when I was lost in thought? I quickly follow her lead and extricate myself from her tiny car. Thankfully, she told me to wear a sweatshirt under my coat. The wind is blowing fiercely, leaving a numb burn on my cheeks.
As we start to walk the path that leads toward the ancient site, Molly loops her arm through mine. I’m momentarily overwhelmed by how thankful I am that I’ve met some of the most genuine people in my new life. I give her arm a gentle squeeze.
“Where’s your head? You’ve been a bit preoccupied for most of the drive,” Molly points out.
With a sigh, I try to find the words to tell her what’s going on in my crazy brain. I don’t think I can put any of it into words yet. So, I simply tell her I was thinking about Gannon. Molly offers a knowing grin before sighing. She’s practically vibrating with whatever she’s bursting to say.
“Alright, out with it,” I tell her.
“Oh Blake, it’s obvious he adores you. Not just that, but I know you’re totally into him too. I’m just happy for you both.”
“Hold on now, there’s nothing to be happy about. We’re still just friends. I think I’m simply realizing I may want that to change,” I nudge her, trying to suppress my smile.
“Like I said, I’m happy for you. I don’t know everything about what would make either of you hold back, but I think that when something feels right, you should go for it. Life is short. You’ve both had enough heartache, maybe it’s time to start something new.”
I know she’s right. Okay, that’s it. I’ve resolved myself to entertain the idea of telling Gannon how I feel. Or at least exploring the option of feelings. I don’t want to jump into anything without having a more reliable indication of his feelings. I’m not looking for a fuck buddy, no matter how much my body wants to disregard what my brain says.
The Hill of Tara is nothing short of magical. Knowing the battles that were fought on the ground beneath my feet, feeling the energy that has left its mark on the place where the true king of Ireland was said to sit has me feeling giddy. There’s something about experiencing even the tiniest bit of history that always makes me feel like a little kid. The view from the remnants of this ancient gathering place is breathtaking. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. Admittedly, I’ve probably had that same thought at least once a day since arriving in Ireland.
Our wandering brings us down the path leading to a cemetery. By now, cemeteries have become my favorite part of Ireland. That seems morbid, but it’s true. Seeing the long-forgotten markers that signify the final resting place of someone who once meant the world to their family, makes my heart feel heavy. It’s an odd sort of sadness. I know these people were probably well-loved in life and celebrated upon their deaths. It’s really the thought that some of these people have been gone so long there is no one left to miss them, but they’re respected just the same.
After we take our time examining each headstone, we head to the car. Our next adventure awaits beyond the border between Ireland and Northern Ireland. Once we’re back on our way, I make a conscious effort to stay present and talk to Molly rather than getting lost in my own thoughts.
“Molly, what was it like to grow up in Kinnitty?”
Molly shrugs, “It’s a small town, everyone has known one another their whole lives. Some even know all about the previous generations. So, in a way, it was nice to know everyone knew me and cared about me.”
“Why do I sense a ‘but’?”
“Probably because there is one. The struggle with everyone knowing everything about you is that you inevitably end up being lumped into a category. Everyone thinks of the Molloy clan as a single entity. People forget that we aren’t all the same.”
That makes sense. I’ve been operating under the assumption that the entire family hates me because of my grandparents. I know it caused some tension, but as I’ve gotten to know some of my cous
ins, I’m starting to think there was less bad blood than grandpa thought. Obviously, Old Roald has made it clear how he feels, but he may be the only one who still holds a grudge against his oldest brother.
“So, other than the infamous Brion Molloy drama, what else have people thought about our family that isn’t true?” I hope I’m not pushing too hard.
“Well, everyone seems to think we’re all a bunch of stubborn arseholes. Wait, no, that one is true. Okay, bad example. I don’t know if I can pinpoint any specific assumptions, but I know the Molloy name is often associated with fighting; that’s mostly the boys. Oh, and everyone assumes we all work at the dairy.”
I give Molly a side-eye glance, “Um, don’t you work at the dairy?”
Molly laughs, “See? That’s what I mean. You thought because Molloy Dairy is family owned and operated that you can’t spit without hitting a Molloy at the dairy. Well, you’d be wrong.”