Perhaps Miss Sheridan wasn’t as resistant to him as she’d led him to believe. Excitement stirred at the thought until he tamped it down. He had a job to do. In and out. Bring Raegan to the League, and get back to his pub. He didn’t need anything else.
“Delicious,” Drake declared, breaking the moment. “You were right. These are great cookies.” With that, he tossed the other half into his mouth to finish off.
Raegan picked up a cookie of her own, smiling as she nibbled off several small bites. She finished the thumbprint cookie and dusted the crumbs from her lap. She took the plate containing the last cookie to her desk, sat down in the butterfly chair, and gestured for Drake to join her.
Drake waited as Raegan regained her composure, deciding it best to broach the subject of why he had come. “Evie says that I should find out from you what my next priorities are to be for work. It seems she can’t think of another thing in the library for me to spit-shine or polish.” He grinned jokingly.
“Evie, is it?” Raegan questioned, both eyebrows raised. “I take it you two are getting on famously then.” It came out as a statement rather than a question, so Drake made no reply.
She sighed. “Evie says you have been a blessing, and that the library hasn’t gleamed this much in ages. I guess I have been neglectful in the past few years, much to my shame. If you are willing to continue on as our maintenance man, I would be an idiot to refuse you.”
“I thank you for the compliments, Miss Sheridan. I would be happy to continue working for you.” Drake paused before continuing. “I do have some pressing business to attend next week and wonder would it be acceptable if I take next Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday off from work?”
“That will be fine, Mr. Fletcher, and,” she paused and took a deep breath, “I’d be happy if you called me Raegan.”
“My pleasure, Raegan.” His Irish brogue, which had been slipping from his lips more often, made its way forth to caress her name. “But only if you will call me Drake. Is it a deal?” He raised an eyebrow and waited, smiling.
“Deal.” Reagan rolled her eyes. “I believe we should move on to discuss what projects you will need to complete for the library next.”
***
The next couple of days passed easily enough. Thursday found Drake on rickety scaffolding two stories high as he took advantage of a rare day with no rain pouring from the few clouds floating past outside.
It turned out Raegan was just as difficult a taskmaster as Evie. It was not enough that he made the necessary repairs to the windows whose glass was cracked and put the shutters hanging askew to rights. No, she had decided every window needed a good scrubbing, and when that was over, a fresh coat of paint in a new color was to be put on each shutter. Drake counted; he was on the twelfth shutter of the morning, possibly covered in more forest green paint than the other eleven shutters combined.
He placed the paint brush on a tray beside the five-gallon paint bucket, replaced the lid, and stood up to stretch. Drake spared a glance at his watch, seeing it was almost twelve-thirty, and decided lunch was in order. Not that he was particularly hungry, thanks to the continual smell of paint as he worked, but if he didn’t have a break soon, he might have forgotten what he was about and start to paint the whole building green. He strode briskly to the edge of the scaffolding as if he wasn’t three stories above ground and swung himself lithely over the edge onto the second rung of the ladder.
Drake reached the pavement at the bottom, dusted off his hands, and turned toward the entrance. At that very moment, the large doors swung open, and Raegan exited the building. She was rummaging in her purse with her head down, and Drake smiled to himself.
It was going to be easier than he thought.
He took a small step to the side and caught Raegan by the arm as she nearly smacked into him. “Raegan, what a pleasant surprise.” Drake grinned as he held on a moment more than necessary and then released her.
“Oh, good afternoon.” Raegan nodded. “I’m just on my way to lunch.” She tried to step around him.
“Lunch sounds incredible. I think I’ll join you. I’ve worked up quite an appetite. Are the shutters to your liking?” He gestured upward past the tall scaffolding to the six sparkling windows, each with two glossy shutters framing them, brightly reflecting the sun.
“Yes, absolutely!” Raegan smiled looking up at his most recent handiwork.
“Excellent. So where are we lunching?” Drake responded before Raegan could correct his assumption that she was agreeing to his inviting himself to lunch.
6.
H alf an hour later, they sat across from one another at a cozy corner booth in a small pub called The Red Deer. Drake had taken time to scrub as clean as he could manage in the library bathroom sink and changed into a fresh shirt.
Judging by the table legs propped on stones to take out the wobble, seats in desperate need of reupholstering, and a complete lack of menus, Drake assumed only locals darkened the door of the place. He sniffed and was surprised to find it smelled rather good, like food and a hint of rain. Most pubs—and he was quite familiar with more than the one he owned—smelled like stale ale at best. Some of the seedier ones smelled significantly worse.
“Nice place,” he said.
Raegan nodded. “I love it.”
Drake’s jaw dropped in surprise when a gray-bearded man with a fisherman’s cap strolled over to their booth and scooped Raegan up into a giant bear hug.
“Rae, me lass.”
“Lorcan, it’s so good to see you.” Rae hugged the man back and then waved to Drake. “This is Drake Fletcher.”
Drake prided himself on a great grip and firm handshake, but when Lorcan shook his hand, he felt as if the man were trying to grind his bones to powder. And based on the look Lorcan was shooting him, Drake’s guess probably wasn’t far off. The men stared each other down until Raegan laughed.
“Come on, Lorcan, give him his hand back. He can’t very well be a decent maintenance man for me at the library if you break all his fingers.”
Lorcan relaxed. “Helping at the library? Well, welcome. Never understood books, but our Rae loves them. So did her Da.”
Drake nodded, the familiar heavy Irish accent sending him a million miles away in his thoughts. So, Raegan did have Irish connections. That was one more point in favor of the League saying she was the woman they needed. Raegan’s voice drew him back to the dingy pub.
“We’re here for lunch. Can you send out the special?”
Lorcan rubbed his hands together. “You got it.”
“Colorful fellow.” Drake raised his eyebrows.
“He was a friend of my dad’s. I’ve known him since I was tiny.” She faltered, sadness stealing over her features. “He and his wife took me in when my dad passed.” Visibly rallying herself, Raegan smiled again, her gaze wandering to the door to the kitchen where Lorcan had disappeared. “If I don’t stop by often enough for food, he and Joan assume I’m starving and show up with a week’s worth of meals.”
“What’s the special?”
Raegan shrugged. “No idea. They change it frequently.”
Drake frowned.
“Don’t worry,” Raegan winked. “It’ll be good. Everything Lorcan cooks is good.”
“Lorcan?” Drake was surprised. He couldn’t picture the beast of a man behind a stove. “He does the cooking, not his wife?”
“That’s right. Bless her heart, Joan can’t cook a thing without burning it.” Raegan shook her head, smiling fondly. “She does the accounting and inventory, ordering, business things like that.”
They slid into silence, and minutes later, Lorcan reappeared, that time bearing a tray of tantalizingly fragrant bowls and steaming bread.
“Me own Irish beef stew,” he said proudly.
“Is that your homemade soda bread?” Raegan rubbed her hands together.
“Would I serve ye anything else?”
Raegan dug in unceremoniously, tearing off a thick piece of bread and dragging it through her
stew. “Delicious!” she exclaimed around a mouthful.
“Thank you,” Drake said.
Lorcan slapped him on the back hard enough to make him wince. “A friend of Rae’s is a friend of mine. The same be true about an enemy.” With a fierce smile, the man disappeared back behind the bar.
Raegan continued eating, either ignoring or not noticing the subtle threat—Drake wasn’t sure which. He got the impression that if he wanted any of that bread, he better grab it while he had the chance, though. Ripping off a piece, he used it as a spoon to shovel a large portion of stew into his mouth.
Well, Raegan was right.
Delicious.
He hadn’t had stew that good since his mother was alive.
***
“Well,” Raegan said as they walked back to the library after their hearty lunch, “Lorcan likes you.”
Drake snorted. “I don’t think so. The man barely tolerated me.”
“Exactly. He didn’t throw you out on the street or put you in the hospital. Trust me, that’s high praise in the actions of Lorcan.”
“He does seem very protective of you. I’d hate to see what he did when you introduced him to any of your boyfriends.” Drake chuckled at the thought. “Has he sent any poor guys running and crying yet?”
Raegan ducked her head so that Drake wouldn’t see her blush. “He hasn’t met any.”
“Smart.”
“No, I mean, I haven’t had any boyfriends.” Raegan blew out a ragged breath. “I’ve really avoided people since losing my parents. Being close to people, it scares me.”
Drake nodded. “I can appreciate that. I lost my dad just a year ago. I can’t imagine losing my family as a child like you.”
Raegan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up when they were nearly back to the library. “Well, I’ve got work to do since lunch took longer than expected. Let Evie know when you finish the shutters, please.” With that, she climbed the steps and disappeared into the safe, familiar walls.
7.
D rake arrived tired, hungry, and frustrated at the small fountain in the garden behind The Brazen Beast, a small but popular pub in Dublin. He’d walked over an hour to Liverpool, ridden seven and a half hours on the ferry, and to make things worse, he had to do it all again day after the next to return to the library. He wanted a good meal and a bed so he could be well-rested before checking how his own pub was faring in his absence. His stomach growled as he recalled a particularly delicious bowl of stew, and he smiled as he thought over the easy conversation he and Raegan shared that day.
“Happy enough to have already found the treasure you look, lad.”
Drake turned to the voice at his right and found two of the four men from the League of Leprechauns seated on a low wall around the garden. How they had climbed up there without so much as a sound, he didn’t know. “I’m still not convinced there is a treasure,” he admitted to Ronan and Brandon. At least, he believed those were their names. He had the hardest time telling the small men apart.
“This doubt you have, why exactly?”
Their speech pattern was almost as confusing as their names. That time, the voice came from behind and to his left. Drake spun, not surprised to find the other two members of the League. He was certain the man with the fiery red hair was called Aiden. The other might have been Oran. Drake shook his head. It didn’t really matter who was who.
“If there is a lost treasure, I doubt Raegan Sheridan has it. The library she owns isn’t flashy. In fact, parts were barely clean before I got there.”
“Perhaps Princess Raegan the treasure hasn’t found,” the main spokesman—Ronan it must have been then—tapped his chin, fingers flexing around his cane. “First, she will need the key.”
The other three murmured assent.
That was the other thing about the odd group of men that got under Drake’s skin. They kept referring to Raegan as a princess. From the moment they approached him in his pub, pulled him out of his ale, and offered enough gold to pay off his father’s debts, they had been determined that he find the lost princess and bring her home to Kivarleigh. What she was supposed to be princess of, they hadn’t told him so far.
“What key?” Drake asked, his irritation growing. “What does the key go to?”
“Secrets it will unlock. Know you will when you and the princess find it.”
Drake crossed his arms. “No. I’m tired of this wild goose chase. Tell me something useful, something that makes sense. Why should I get back on that infernal ferry to England and try to convince Raegan to jump on a plane to Ireland if I don’t even know why you want her there?”
The men shared a look, seeming to converse without words. At a nod from Ronan, Aiden spoke. “Time to come home it is. Give the princess this medallion. Her da’s it was. She must come save the people.”
Drake held out a hand for the medallion. The weight surprised him as he turned it over, admiring the intricate details in the metal. He wasn’t sure if it was bronze or simply tarnished, but even the dark color couldn’t disguise the fine lines depicting a meadow of flowers, a colorless rainbow arcing across the sky.
He looked up from his study to find the League gone, vanished into the night.
8.
R aegan noticed the lack of Evie’s laughing banter early Tuesday morning. She noticed the complete silence that met her as she walked outside for lunch on Wednesday. She noticed grime building up on the windows by Wednesday night when she locked up to go home. Thursday morning, she noticed the emptiness in her chest that she’d been steadfastly ignoring.
In effect, Raegan noticed Drake’s absence the whole time he was gone. It chafed her to admit that she missed him. His easy humor with Evie. His constant and annoying habit of showing up near her unexpectedly. His care for the jobs he did in the library—her library. If she were honest with herself, she simply missed him. She chastised herself, wondering when someone determined to be alone and happy had become alone and lonely instead.
Raegan gave herself a mental shake and decided to see if she could help Evie with anything the rest of the day. There were a couple of people seated in the Corner Café lounge area, and she stopped to check on them, accepting a pretend cup of tea from one adorable toddler.
“Need anything?” she asked Evie, finding her bent over, digging in cabinets behind the counter.
Evie heaved herself up, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Actually, yes. I seem to be out of Styrofoam cups. Can you be a dear and check the storage room for me?”
Raegan smiled, happy to have a task to keep herself distracted. “Absolutely! I’ll be back in a minute.”
Her happy bubble burst the moment she opened the door. Thoughts of Drake slammed into her from every direction. All of his work was evident, from the well-oiled and squeak-free door to the meticulously organized shelves with all of the heavy items closer to the floor, new labels on every box. She sighed. At least the cups were simple to find. She plucked a bag of them off a shelf and returned to Evie.
The remainder of the afternoon passed slowly. Evie didn’t need any other help, so eventually, Raegan took herself off to check and organize shelves.
9.
M orning rays flitted through the blinds and woke Drake early Friday morning. With a stretch, he replayed his past few days in his head. His pub had been getting on well without him, better, in fact, without a moping pub owner drinking more than the customers, according to his bartender. His conversation with the League still frustrated him, and something about the medallion niggled at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t figure out what was bothering him. As soon as he thought about the medallion, though, he knew he needed to get to the library and see Raegan right away.
Throwing back the sheets, Drake brushed his teeth and dressed. He ran a hand through his hair, noting that before too long he would need a haircut, and opted to skip breakfast in favor of getting to the library right away. He could always grab a snack from Evie. That woman could make a mean pastry
.
The musty scent of books greeted him when he entered the library not ten minutes later. He smiled; he was beginning to associate the smell with Raegan. Evie was chatting to a young mom and pouring a cup of hot chocolate for a young child. Drake waved but didn’t interrupt. He wound his way up the spiral staircase and knocked on the doors to Raegan’s office.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Nothing.
Drake leaned his ear close but heard no sounds from inside. She must have been somewhere in the library, roaming and reshelving books or reading in a nook like those first few weeks when he’d been watching her. Before my presence drove her to hide away in her office so often, he realized, wondering how far she would go to avoid him after she heard the news he had for her.
With a sigh, he descended the stairs. He’d hoped to get the conversation over with quickly, but it looked like he would have to find her first. Evie was alone, the mom and child long gone with their chocolate and books, so he joined her behind the counter.
“Coffee?” she offered.
Drake still couldn’t bring himself to drink the nasty brew there and shook his head. Since he hadn’t taken time to make his own coffee, he asked for a water instead.
Evie inquired politely about his trip but, sensing he wasn’t in a very talkative mood, soon left him to himself. He downed his water, the medallion heavy in his pocket.
“Do you know where Raegan is at?”
She hadn’t appeared to chat with him and Evie like he’d hoped she might.
“I believe she was taking the garbage out.”
Drake frowned. Raegan knew he would be back on Friday. Why wouldn’t she have simply waited for him to do it?
“Thanks.” He tossed his cup in the trash and headed for the back doors to the alley.
The sight that met his eyes as he stepped into the overcast alleyway made him chuckle. That chuckle earned him a solid glare, but he couldn’t help it. Raegan was stooped by the dumpster, digging through the garbage bag, and trying to feed little scraps of food to a tiny calico kitten, barely bigger than a scrap itself.
The Librarian's Treasure Page 3