“So you’re going to Baltimore,” Juliette said. “Is Dr. Robbins ecstatic?”
“She had the arrangements made within an hour,” Deanna said, thinking of the one bright spot in all of this. Her mentor had, indeed, been ecstatic. But, then, she didn’t know the rest of the story, either.
Jules held out her hand. “Give me your book.”
Deanna regarded her with confusion. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t pass that anatomy exam with flying colors, none of this will mean much. I’m going to quiz you until you have it all down pat. I’m counting on your getting your degree in medicine and practicing right here in Charlottesville, so you can take care of my family, which I intend to start within months of graduating.”
Deanna chuckled. “Have you narrowed down the candidates you’ll consider marrying?”
Jules gave her a wicked grin. “The process is half the fun, but there are a few very good contenders. We’ll go over the list one of these days. You can give me your thoughts.”
“Given my lack of a social life, do you really think I’m remotely qualified to help you pick a husband?”
“You’ll be impartial. Some of them make me a little too giddy, so my judgment goes out the window. I want romance, of course, but I also want this to be a sound, rational decision.”
Deanna shook her head at the absurd declaration. “Something tells me you’re going to run off to a justice of the peace one night and my opinion won’t mean a blasted thing. Neither will anyone else’s.”
Juliette’s expression sobered. “Not a chance. That’s what my mother did the first time. And a couple of times after that,” she added ruefully. “My careful, methodical way is better, and nothing is going to throw me off course. I plan to marry only once, so I’d better get it right the very first time.”
Deanna didn’t want to tell her that life had a way of throwing you curveballs, just when you thought you had things all mapped out. Jules would learn that for herself soon enough. Deanna certainly had.
*
Taking Bryan at his word, early the next morning Kiera went over to the garden he’d planted, eager to spend an hour with her hands in the dirt doing something productive. She knew from her limited experience in Ireland just how close to nature it made her feel, how relaxing it could be.
She was about to tap on Bryan’s back door to let him know she planned to work in his yard, but the sound of his voice coming through the open kitchen window halted her hand in midair.
“It’s time to give up, isn’t it?” he said wearily to someone. “I should have done it years ago.”
Kiera was struck by the despondent note in his voice. She had a feeling whoever was on the other end of the line had given him yet more bad news. Perhaps it was the same person he’d been speaking to at the pub a couple weeks ago. That conversation had left him shaken in a way she didn’t entirely understand.
Though a part of her wanted to continue listening to try to get a sense of what was taking such an emotional toll on him, she couldn’t bring herself to eavesdrop a moment longer. She quickly retreated to the garden and knelt down, trying to focus on the task at hand.
The warmth of the sun on her shoulders would have been soothing at any other time, but she couldn’t seem to shake the memory of Bryan’s tone. If only he would open up with her, perhaps she could help. Something told her, though, that this was a burden he’d carried alone for a long time—long enough that he was finally conceding defeat. She knew what that was like. Hadn’t she given up on her attempts to help her sons straighten out their lives? Hadn’t it just about broken her heart to do so, even when she’d known there was no other choice? And hadn’t she been second-guessing herself ever since, especially when anyone questioned her about her sons?
She’d been working for a half hour or more when she heard the slap of the screen door closing abruptly and heard Bryan’s footsteps on the back deck. He came to a sudden halt, quite likely at the sight of her.
She glanced at him over her shoulder and forced a bright smile. “I took you at your word and came to do some weeding.”
For a moment, he looked flustered, but then he rallied and nodded. “Are my plants safe?”
“Come and see for yourself. I think this pile of wilting greenery beside me is made up entirely of invasive weeds. I’ve carefully avoided all your neat rows and the plants that have stakes.”
He grinned then. “Who knew my approach to gardening would provide guidance to a rank amateur.”
“The neat little labels at the beginning of the rows helped, too.” She gave him a curious look. “You weren’t by any chance unsure you’d recognize what you’d planted, were you?”
“In a couple of cases, I did experiment,” he admitted. “I’ve never grown eggplant before, and I added more than one kind of pepper. Adding jalapeño to a recipe, rather than a sweet red pepper, could be a big mistake.”
“And you couldn’t plainly see the difference when they’re on the plant? They look nothing at all alike.”
He shrugged. “Mistakes happen.”
“Not to you, I’m thinking. Why would you be growing jalapeños in the first place? There’s little need for them in most Irish food.”
“But I do love a little salsa when I’m having a cold beer on my deck in the evening. The Irish don’t know what they’re missing. Weren’t you the one who told me it’s important to serve foods that make the customers thirsty for more ale? Perhaps I should recommend that addition to the pub’s menu.”
“And have Nell fainting on the spot?” Kiera asked.
“More likely, I’d be risking your grumbling in my ear,” he retorted.
Kiera sat back on her heels and studied him closely. His mood seemed surprisingly light, given the tone she’d overheard not that long ago. He seemed calm, too.
“Is your morning off to a good start?” she inquired tentatively.
“The sight of you working in my garden is certainly a pleasant way to start the day,” he said, even though they both knew it wasn’t really a response to what she’d asked.
“Well, unfortunately, then, I’m about to ruin things by stopping. It’s time for me to get ready for work.”
She stood up, brushed the dirt from her knees and was about to put the weeds into a bag she’d brought along for that purpose when he stopped her. “Leave that. I’ll finish up.”
“Okay, then. I hope you’ll let me do this again.”
“Anytime.”
She was about to leave, when he called her name. She paused and turned.
“I’ll give you a lift to work if you want.” He hesitated, cleared his throat, his expression oddly uncertain. Finally, he added, “Maybe we’ll have time to stop at Panini Bistro for an espresso or something.”
Startled, Kiera simply stared for a moment. She almost opened her mouth to say they could get all the coffee they wanted at the pub, but she stopped herself just in time. It was another of those rare olive branches being extended by one or the other of them. They weren’t to be ignored.
“That would be lovely,” she told him. “Will fifteen minutes do?” she asked, knowing he was usually in a rush to get to his precious kitchen and begin his day.
“A half hour will be fine,” he said. “It’s early yet. Luke won’t be expecting either one of us.”
No, Kiera thought, but he would find it fascinating if they not only arrived together, which wasn’t that uncommon, but arrived with to-go cups from Panini Bistro. If she knew Luke and her daughter, that was something that wouldn’t go unnoticed and she’d likely never hear the end of it.
Chapter 10
Because it was such a pleasant June morning, Bryan asked Kiera if she’d like to sit outside at Panini Bistro where they’d have a view of the bay across the street as well as the warmth of the sun before it got too high in the sky. June weather in Chesapeake Shores could be unpredictable, pleasant one day and unbearably hot and humid the next. Today’s sunny blue skies and seventy-degree start was o
ne of the better ones.
“I never miss an opportunity to see the water,” Kiera responded at once. “It’s one of the reasons I found my little cottage so appealing. There’s a glimpse of the bay from the yard.”
“There’s an even better view from upstairs in my house,” Bryan said. “When I leave my bedroom windows open, I can hear the lapping of the waves on the shore.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Bryan regretted them. He’d spoken the truth, but it had sounded far too close to an invitation. He couldn’t be certain from her expression if Kiera had heard it that way, but he knew absolutely that the provocative image of her in his room, in his bed, wouldn’t be going away anytime soon. It shocked him just how powerful that image was.
“Bryan?”
At the questioning note in Kiera’s voice, he snapped back to the moment and realized a waitress had arrived and was waiting for their orders. “An espresso for me,” he said quickly. “Kiera?”
“I’ve already ordered a cappuccino,” she said, her lips twitching as she tried to hold back a smile.
“Well, that’s all, then,” he said, then met her gaze. “Unless you’d like something to eat.”
“The coffee will do.”
“Sure thing,” the waitress said, leaving them alone.
“Was your mind wandering?” Kiera teased. “I have to wonder where it went. It must have been a pleasant place.”
“Nowhere worth following,” he assured her, then focused his attention on the boats chugging along on the bay in the morning sunlight. It was a tranquil picture, far more tranquil than his oddly chaotic thoughts.
It had suddenly occurred to him that he was actually on something that some people would consider a date. When he’d issued the impulsive invitation, he’d given it no thought beyond the momentary desire to have Kiera’s company for a little longer before their day started at the pub. They seemed to do better with each other away from that atmosphere. Now he was realizing it was a step, albeit a tiny one, toward a more complicated relationship, something he’d successfully avoided for years.
Because he and Melody had never divorced, he’d considered himself unavailable for anything more than the most casual encounters. He was always honest with the women he’d dated, making sure they understood he wasn’t looking for anything lasting. But trying to explain why he wasn’t interested in more was too personal to share, so he avoiding anything that might be leading toward that uncomfortable conversation. Was he actually willing to have that conversation with Kiera? He couldn’t quite envision it, which meant he needed to be very careful about any signals he sent to her.
“For a man who said his morning had gotten off to a good start not that long ago, you’re looking increasingly troubled,” Kiera said. “Have I said something to make you uneasy?”
“Not at all,” he said at once. “I’m just not used to doing things like this.”
She stared at him blankly. “Like what? Having coffee?”
He nodded, then chuckled. “Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
“We’ve had coffee before,” she reminded him. “Well, you’ve had coffee and I’ve had tea, but it’s the same sort of thing.”
“That was at the pub. This is entirely different. Can’t you see that?” Even as he spoke he knew that he was making way too much of an innocent hour at a sidewalk café.
Kiera simply looked puzzled, but before he could attempt an explanation, Mick O’Brien came striding down the street from the direction of his wife’s art gallery and spotted them. He paused at their table, then looked pointedly from Bryan to Kiera and back again. “Well, this is a surprise,” he said, grabbing a chair from a neighboring table and pulling it over without waiting for an invitation. “Imagine seeing the two of you here,” he said, then pointedly added, “together.”
Understanding of Mick’s assumption suddenly dawned on Kiera’s face, and she cast a frantic look in Bryan’s direction.
“We’re just taking a few minutes to bounce around some ideas for the pub,” Bryan told Mick quickly, hoping to take control of the situation. “Kiera has some thoughts for additions to the menu, isn’t that right, Kiera?”
She nodded. “Things that were popular in the pubs where I worked in Ireland,” she said at once. “You must have been in your share of pubs over there on your visits over the years, Mick. I imagine you have some thoughts as well about what could be added to the menu at O’Brien’s.”
“Oh, I shared a few with Luke when he first came up with his plan to open the pub,” Mick responded. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Ma to join you,” he said, referring to Nell. “She takes a special interest in the pub’s menu. She has since Luke opened the place. Authenticity is very important to her, as you surely know, Bryan.”
Bryan laughed. “I do, indeed. It’s a word I was hearing on a daily basis for quite some time. Now Kiera has taken up the chant. She takes her title of Irish consultant quite seriously.”
“Well, certainly no offense to Nell is meant by our talking through a few things,” Kiera said hurriedly. “This is just a preliminary conversation. Of course, Nell would have the last word.”
“Of course,” Bryan said, finding himself vaguely amused by Kiera’s discomfort. It was rather nice no longer being alone with his stomach tied in knots. He doubted, though, that Kiera had any idea of where Mick’s matchmaking mind was now wandering. It had little to do with the pub’s menu or Nell’s proprietary interest in it. It was finding the two of them together at this early hour that clearly fascinated Mick. The conversation was nothing more than a diversion for him while he assessed their relationship so he could spread the word to the rest of the family. And he would spread it. Bryan had no doubt of that.
When the waitress brought their drinks, Mick ordered an American coffee for himself, obviously not planning to leave the two of them alone until he’d figured out what they were really doing. Heaven forbid, he observed any of the sparks that Bryan himself had been feeling when he least expected it.
“It wasn’t long ago that Luke was worried about the two of you coexisting at the pub,” Mick said innocently. “Obviously things have improved.”
“We’re making an effort to get along,” Kiera told him. “We’ve found a few things we can agree on.”
“And you’re neighbors, too,” Mick noted. “How’s that working out? Kiera, are you finding the little guest cottage comfortable? We did the renovations there quickly at Moira’s request, but if we missed anything, be sure to let me know. I’ll have someone take care of it.”
Bryan caught an odd expression flitting across Kiera’s face and had a hunch it had something to do with Mick’s casual mention of Moira’s role in the renovations. He was a little taken aback by that, as well. Had there been some plan afoot to push the two of them closer together? If there had been, though, it was a worry for another time. Right this minute, they had Mick and his easily stirred romantic fantasies to deal with.
Bryan looked around, hoping to spot another O’Brien or just about anyone else who might provide a distraction for Mick. For a town crawling with O’Briens, though, for once there wasn’t another one in sight.
“Kiera, are you enjoying Chesapeake Shores?” Mick asked as if he hadn’t had a chance to ask her before, when in truth they talked almost daily at the pub.
“It’s lovely,” she said, her expression brightening at the innocuous topic. “You must be so proud when you look around and realize that you created such a warm and welcoming place.”
Though Mick looked pleased by her comment, he said, “I designed and built the buildings, but it’s those who live here who’ve made it a community.”
“But I’ve a feeling you and your family set the example,” she said.
“And not just here,” Bryan added, seizing on the topic himself. Work was still Mick’s real passion. It should prove a good distraction. “How many other communities has your company built around the country, each with its own distinct way of blending into the
landscape around it? I had a chance to chat with Jaime Alvarez when he was here recovering from his broken leg. He showed me pictures of the project he was working on for you in the Pacific Northwest.” He turned to Kiera. “It’s nothing like Chesapeake Shores, which suits this part of the world. That community fits perfectly with the environment out there.”
“That’s always our goal,” Mick said. “We want each community to be unique. And if you tell my brother Thomas I said this, I’ll deny it, but it’s because of him that we take such care with the natural beauty of each location and do as little damage as possible.”
“But don’t you have to be on the road a lot to oversee such work?” Kiera asked, clearly fascinated. “It must take time to get the feel of a place just right so you know how to design for it.”
Mick’s expression turned rueful. “In the beginning, when I was building the business, it took too much time, if you ask Megan about it. The only way I won her back after our divorce was to promise to let my chief executive, Jaime, and Luke’s brother, Matthew, take over most of the projects. I only travel now when there’s a problem to be resolved or a need to deal with the local authorities.”
Kiera frowned at that. “I wonder, given that experience, why Megan is less understanding of Moira’s desire to stay here with her family, rather than traveling so much.”
Mick chuckled. “My wife is a complicated woman,” he said wryly. “And she’s ambitious, not so much for herself, as for your daughter. She hates to see talent go unrecognized. Moira is wise for standing up to her. Perhaps you should remind Megan how she felt about my being on the road all the time.”
“I don’t suppose you could draw the parallel?” Kiera asked. “I’m finding that I enjoy her friendship a little too much to be expressing an opinion that goes against what she wants.”
“Probably a wise approach,” Mick agreed. “But it’s not a past I like to remind her of, either. I’ll be keeping my opinions to myself, as well.” He pushed aside his empty cup and stood up. “I need to run, but before I go, I’ll catch up with the waitress and pay our check. Good to see you both. Enjoy your morning. I imagine we’ll cross paths again at the pub later.”
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