“You came back,” he said, tucking a wayward strand of black behind her ear.
“Of course I came back,” she snapped, but there was little bite to her tone. “You’re my husband. Where you are is where I belong.”
Her words warmed his heart. “I’ve been thinking. If you really hate this place, we’ll put it back on the market. We can start looking for a new place tomorrow.”
She inhaled sharply. “You’d do that?”
“I’d do anything for you, Kathleen. Tonight made me realize that there’s nothing more important than making you happy. Except maybe keeping you safe.”
Using his uninjured arm, he hefted her up until she straddled him. Beneath the layer of bedding and pajama bottoms, his cock stirred under her warmth and weight. She pretended not to notice. She’d held up well all night, but he could see the tension in her shoulders. She hadn’t left his side, but she had yet to look him in the eye.
“Kathleen. Look at me.”
She did. Her big, beautiful eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, filling with moisture. Her pretty, rose colored lips parted, the fuller bottom one wobbling slightly. He couldn’t bear to see her like that; it made his heart ache far more than his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Jack.”
“I know. But what the hell were you thinking, taking on an intruder alone like that?”
That quickly, some of the fire was back in her eyes. Her weight shifted slightly in his lap. Jack eyed the flannel, knee-length nightshirt now bunched up around her hips, mentally puzzling out the quickest way to get it off with one hand. One good tug at the neckline would rend it down the middle, if it came to that. Adrenaline still surged through his veins, though for an entirely different reason than it had earlier.
“I was thinking that he was vandalizing our home.”
He slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt, gently caressing her smooth skin. Kathleen had amazing legs. Firm and toned, she had a way of wrapping them around his back and spurring him on. But they felt pretty damn good riding him, too.
“You could have been hurt.”
“Not likely,” she sniffed. She leaned forward, hands on either side of his waist, and lifted an inch or two, enough to allow him to work the material out from beneath her. He ran his hand along the outside of her thigh, palming her ass and giving it a promising squeeze. As much as he loved her legs, her ass was spectacular. Lush, rounded, and a perfect fit for his large hands. A soft sound, half-sigh, half-moan, crossed her lips.
“What would have happened if I hadn’t come back when I did?”
Kathleen rolled her hips slightly, rubbing herself along his now-granite-like length. He needed every strip of cloth between them gone now.
“You wouldn’t have been shot.”
“Good point.”
Apparently she’d had it with the covers, too, because in one smooth movement, she leaned to one side and pushed them out of the way. At the same time, he lifted his hips and pushed his pajama bottoms down enough to allow his erection to spring free. Kathleen looked at it and licked her lips, then met his eyes.
“Do you feel up to it?” she asked hopefully.
Jack laughed at the ridiculousness of her question, given the way his cock was pointing skyward. “What do you think?”
He gripped it around the base and held it for her in affirmation.
“Well, okay, but I’m doing all the work. You just lay there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She took the hint and positioned herself directly above him.
“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he asked through gritted teeth as she closed her eyes and lowered herself down in a slow, exquisite glide. She didn’t stop until he was fully seated within, then she stilled, allowing herself to grow accustomed to the impalement. Jack didn’t mind. He was deep inside his woman and all was right with his world again.
“The Birch Falls Rifle and Gun Club. They’ve got a nice range.”
“What?!”
“I needed an outlet while you were away. Something to keep my mind off of...” She let the sentence hang. “Erin told me to get a hobby.”
“So you joined a gun club? You couldn’t take up pottery or something?”
“Shooting things helps.”
Jack grunted. He couldn’t argue with that logic. Then Kathleen started moving, doing some kind of lift-roll-tilt thing with her hips that sent stars shooting across his vision.
Her eyes never left his as she made love to him. Slowly. Thoroughly. And in those moments, as he gazed into her eyes, he caught glimpses of all of the fear, all of the worry that she’d carried around with her while he’d been deployed.
It made him realize just how strong she was. Just those five minutes in the storeroom believing she was in danger had been enough to age him five years. How the hell had she managed the seven years he’d been in Vietnam? The fear and worry must have been crippling at times, yet in all her letters, she had never once wavered in her unshakable belief that he would come back to her.
And it wasn’t just her faith in him that made her strong, it was her quiet determination to keep moving forward, to make things better not only for herself, but those around her as well. While he had been fighting for their country, she hadn’t been sitting around, simply waiting for his return. No, she’d worked days and weekends in her father’s diner to put herself through night school and get her Accounting degree. Took care of his mother when he couldn’t. Was there for anyone who needed her, providing caring, loving, support. The woman was his rock, and every day, he adored her more than the last.
“I love you, Jack,” she whispered, answering his unspoken question. Then she tilted her head back and rode him sweetly, angling herself for her greatest pleasure.
She was magnificent. He’d never seen her like this, so lost, so focused. He reached between them and rubbed her sensitive nub. Kathleen gasped and ground herself against him.
“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed. “Take what you need.”
Her fingernails curled into his chest even as her sheath tightened around him. Jack grasped her hip with his hand and held her in place while he pistoned his hips from below, extending her orgasm until her screams became nothing more than breathless gasps.
Only then did he allow his own climax, driving deep, emptying his soul right into her womb.
Chapter Fifteen
The morning dawned cold and gray, which seemed oddly appropriate given what awaited them downstairs. More snow was expected, but only a few inches in the higher elevations and flurries for everyone else.
They made love again. Tenderly, more gently than the night before. They spoke very little, but words weren’t really necessary, not when their hearts and souls and bodies were able to speak so eloquently.
Jack couldn’t put his finger on it, but something had changed between them. Something irrevocable that had sealed the bond between them, drawn them even closer together.
They stayed in bed as long as they could, but eventually they had to get up and take care of business. The highlight of his morning (after the wake-up sex, of course) was the sponge bath Kathleen lavished on him in the ancient claw-foot tub. Jack teased that with pampering like that, he wouldn’t mind getting shot more often.
Kathleen didn’t think that was nearly as funny as he did.
Sheriff McFlannigan arrived as they were finishing off the last of the semi-stale English muffins and jam. Over a pot of freshly percolated coffee, he brought them up to date. Official charges had been filed against Jimmy Foster, and once released from the hospital, he would be headed straight to jail.
“What about bail?” Kathleen asked.
The sheriff laughed. “I doubt Judge Farrow will be keen on setting bail. This isn’t the first time Jimmy’s done something stupid. The reason he and Sheila left Pine Ridge in the first place was because Jimmy got drunk one night and plowed his car into the judge’s brand new Cadillac.”
He paused and took a sip of his coffee. “Bu
t I will warn you. Jimmy’s been shooting his mouth off to anyone that will listen that he’s going to sue the two of you.”
“Sue us?” Jack asked, incredulous. “For what?”
“Use of excessive force. He claims you disabled him.”
“Disabled my arse,” Kathleen said vehemently. “It was a clean shot.”
“And clearly self-defense,” Jack added.
“I know. Not even the public defender will listen to his shite. Jimmy doesn’t have a leg to stand on –—no pun intended. I just wanted you to know in case you hear anything. Now,” he said, pulling the small black Instamatic camera from his pocket. “Let’s get some pictures, then I’ll leave you good folks be.”
Jack and Kathleen accompanied him into the public area first. While Jack pointed out damages, Kathleen took notes, both for the case against Foster and for the insurance company.
The place looked even worse in the daylight. Jack’s spirits fell when he saw the damage Foster had caused in his drunken rage. By noon, the sheriff had used an entire roll of film, and took his leave, promising to drop the film off at the new one-hour Photo Mart in town.
Even though Jack had accepted the fact that he’d made a mistake in buying the bar, it was still going to be hard to get rid of the place. The pub hadn’t been his for very long, but he was already attached to it. In the weeks before their wedding, he’d been working his ass off to clean it up and surprise Kathleen.
It had been a surprise, all right. Just not the kind he’d hoped for.
He’d meant what he’d said to her the night before. He loved Kathleen, and making her happy was his first priority from here on out. If selling the bar and doing something else would accomplish that, so be it. He’d already lost too many years with his croie, and he wasn’t about to waste another day on things that, in the end, didn’t really matter.
Last night’s break-in had driven that point home. Despite his exhaustion, images of “what ifs” had plagued his few, brief periods of sleep. What if he hadn’t come back when he had? What if that low-life bastard had hurt Kathleen?
The pub and everything in it was replaceable. His croie was not.
Jack looked over to where Kathleen was quietly sweeping the bar room. Every now and then she’d pause and look around, then look at him, her expression unreadable, before starting up again. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking, then realized he probably didn’t want to know.
For his part, he was supposed to be taking an inventory of everything that had been broken or damaged. That didn’t take long at all. Everything that had been on the shelves, from the finest Irish whiskey to the cheapest rum, was now nothing but a sea of broken glass and spirits on the bar room floor.
The store room was a different story. It would take hours to go through everything and make a list of what survived Foster’s rampage and what didn’t, but Jack didn’t dare tempt her wrath. Kathleen had expressly forbidden him from doing anything that would involve using his injured shoulder, and that, she told him, included moving crates and kegs. Before he’d been able to argue the point, she called her brother-in-law, Seamus, to come over later and help with the heavy lifting. Jack would be damned if he’d sit idly by and let another man clean up his mess, but he didn’t tell her that. With any luck, Erin would come along too, and keep Kathleen occupied elsewhere while he and Seamus took care of business in the storage room.
It wasn’t long after the sheriff left Jack heard the scrape of a snow shovel outside the front entrance. He and Kathleen shared a look, then went over and opened the door to find Brian O’Connell clearing the sidewalk.
“Heard what happened,” Brian said by way of greeting.
“New travels fast.”
“It’s Pine Ridge. What did you expect?” Brian shrugged. “Anyway,” he flicked a glance at Jack’s sling, “I thought you could use a hand.”
“I appreciate the effort,” Jack told him sincerely, “but it’s not necessary. We won’t be opening for business.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Brian smiled.
“The place is trashed, Bri.”
Brian’s eyes twinkled, but he said nothing. Behind him, Declan Kennedy came by with his two grown sons. They had shovels as well. With a nod to Jack and Kathleen, they started shoveling the sidewalk where Brian had left off.
“What’s going on?” Jack asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Like you said, news travels fast.”
“What the hell does that...” Jack stopped mid-query when Joe McCreevy pulled up in his truck. His grandson, Rory, jumped out of the passenger side and jogged to the door.
“Gramps says I should get your keys and move the cars so he can plow the lot.”
Jack started to protest when Kathleen handed the boy the two sets of keys. “Thanks, Rory. Tell your Gramps I’ll put a fresh pot of coffee on for him.”
Jack was still shaking his head when more people appeared, carrying brooms, dust pans, and trash bags.
Then a few more showed up, with buckets and rags and assorted cleaning products.
Conlan O’Leary and his wife roared up in his big 1970 Jeep Gladiator, the back filled with coffee machines and boxes of food for the growing number of volunteers. Right behind him were Seamus and Erin. Seamus’ pickup held a variety of tools and equipment; he’d recently started his own construction company, the new Connelly Construction logo proudly displayed on the side. He was followed by no less than six more trucks, each sporting the logo of various subcontractors.
Awed by their selfless actions, Jack hauled out what remained of his inventory and offered drinks free of charge to anyone who had come to help.
By night fall, most of Pine Ridge and a fair portion of Birch Falls had swarmed the place. Women took over the kitchen with crock pots and large, cast iron Dutch ovens, while men carried up extra chairs and tables from the basement and cleaned them off.
“Ye’ll never make any money by givin’ it all away, Jack,” Danny Finnegan lamented over his Jameson’s, watching as Jack filled another tray and a smiling Kathleen carried it out to the volunteers.
“Nope,” Jack agreed, smiling. “But I am building one hell of a client base.”
Danny laughed at that, then sobered. “I canna tell ye how shamed I am by Jimmy’s actions, Jack.”
Jack shrugged. “Wasn’t your doing.”
“Nay, but a taint nonetheless,” he sighed, and Jack felt for him. Pride was important to men like Danny Finnegan, and a man’s family was a big part of that.
“Ye are a good man, Jack,” Danny continued. “These people, they know that.” He looked wistfully at the crowd. “Ye have a gift, young Jack. The Pub hasn’t seen this many people since my grandfather started the Wake procession on Saint Paddy’s day. Kinda makes me think I should have kept the Pub and just made ye manager,” he grinned.
“Miss it, huh?”
“Aye. Retirement isn’t quite what it’s cracked up te be. This place, well, she’s all I know.”
It was the moment Jack had been waiting for. He’d seen the way the older man had been looking around longingly, the way he’d walked around, running his hands over the beams when he didn’t think anyone was looking. Danny Finnegan wanted his Pub back.
“It’s a great place,” Jack said carefully.
“Aye, she is. And she will be good te ye, Jack, if ye are good te her. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jack said, his smile slipping a little. This was it. The perfect opportunity to suggest selling the bar back to him. Now that the taxes were paid off, Danny could pay him back with a portion of the profits each week. “Kathleen and I, well, we talked about it. And we wanted to know if you - ”
“Would consider staying on with us,” Kathleen said suddenly from his elbow. Jack stared at her, but she pointedly ignored him. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “After all, you know the business better than we do, and everybody knows you, Mr. Finnegan.”
The man’s ey
es lit up. “They do, don’t they?”
“Aye.”
Jack continued to gape until Kathleen discreetly stepped on his foot. He closed his mouth. The pressure on his instep ceased.
“What did ye have in mind, lass?”
Jack was wondering the same thing. He had no idea where she was going with this, but he was every bit as curious as the old man to find out.
“Public relations.”
“Public relations,” he murmured.
“Yes. I can handle the books, and Jack can deal with the business stuff and getting the place fixed up, which doesn’t leave a lot of time for PR. That’s where you’d come in. You could set your own hours, come in and spend time with the customers. Tell them the history of the place. Get them talking and feeling comfortable. You have a gift for spinning a yarn, Mr. Finnegan.”
Son of a bitch, Jack thought. She had the old man eating out of the palm of her hand. He had stars in his eyes, for Christ’s sake.
“Kathleen, love, can I speak with you for a minute?”
She smiled up at him, the picture of wifely innocence, but he saw the glint in her eyes. “Of course. Excuse us, please, Mr. Finnegan. Think about it, okay? You’d really be doing us a huge favor.”
Jack grasped her around the elbow and tugged her into the stairwell, nearly blushing under the knowing stares of the women in the kitchen. Clearly they thought he and Kathleen were sneaking off for an entirely different reason.
The thought had crossed his mind. It was impossible to glimpse his new bride smiling and talking with the townsfolk and not want to throw her over his good shoulder and take her upstairs for a bit of loving. But in the interest of public decency, he would rein in his lustier impulses and resist until they managed to shoo everyone out which, at this rate, might be a while.
“What are you doing?” Jack spoke in quiet tones the minute the door closed behind them. “I just had Finnegan ready to buy back the place.”
“I know. That’s why I stopped you.”
“I thought you hated this place.”
“I don’t hate it,” she corrected. “I just didn’t think it was the ideal place to raise a family. What I hated was the fact that you didn’t even consult me first before making such a big decision. A decision that affects both of us, Jack.”
Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9 Page 12