Love and Leprechauns (Ballybeg, Book 3) (The Ballybeg Series)

by Zara Keane

  “I hear it does a roaring business in its current incarnation,” she remarked between spoonfuls of trifle. “It’s an excellent location for a golf hotel.”

  “That brings me to my point. I’m not rambling about my family’s past for no reason. When I retired, I used part of my savings to build this house. I also invested in the new hotel in my family’s former home.”

  Olivia’s jaw dropped. “You own Clonmore Castle Hotel?”

  “Only a percentage, and a small percentage at that. However, it adds to my yearly income and has enabled me to build up my savings.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “No. I’ve deliberately not told your mother about my share in the hotel. Your aunt Elisabeth knows, but she’s financially independent. Your mother, on the other hand—”

  “—would bleed you dry.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “When your parents almost lost their home, I couldn’t afford to pay off their mortgage. At the point Aidan stepped in, I was considering offering them enough money to rent a house for a few months on the condition that they both made an effort to find work.”

  Olivia grimaced. “They wouldn’t have, you know. They’d have taken your money and blown it.”

  “Yes. Yet I still regret letting Aidan step in and take over.”

  “You couldn’t have foreseen the consequences.”

  “No, but perhaps I can help mitigate the damage.” He topped up her sherry glass. “With that in mind, I have a proposition for you.”

  Olivia raised an eyebrow. “A proposition?”

  “Yes. I know you’ve poured all your savings into the café. I’d like to offer you a little money to put toward your living costs for the next few months. Between the business and the cost of setting your divorce in motion, I figure you need it.”

  “Granddad, are you sure you can afford it? It might take me a couple of years to pay you back.”

  “I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t manage without the money,” he said firmly. “I’m glad to help at least one of my grandchildren. I feel bad enough that I can’t offer your brothers a home. I’ve tried, but your mother won’t hear of it.”

  “Would you want to take on two teenage boys at your age?”

  He sighed. “Frankly, no, but your parents’ chaotic lifestyle isn’t creating a healthy home environment. I don’t think Kyle cares, but Ronan needs stability.”

  “I know. Once I have the café up and running and can afford to rent a house, I’m going to offer to have them live with me until they finish school.”

  Her grandfather patted her hand. “All the more reason to offer you a loan. However, there is one condition.”

  “I’m not to tell Mum?”

  He looked her square in the eye. “Precisely. Victoria will inherit money from me when I’m dead, but at least I won’t be around to see her waste it.”

  “Thanks for the offer, Grandad. I appreciate it. Now that my bank loan has come through, my start-up grant will be paid out within the next few weeks. I’ll need to be careful until the café starts turning a profit. Your money will help me breathe a little easier.”

  “If it reduces your stress level, I’m pleased.” The grooves on his lined forehead deepened. “You deserve more from life than constantly being forced to cope with situations that aren’t ideal.”

  “Isn’t that most people’s lot in life?” she said with a smile, but there was no denying that having the financing of the café sorted out was a huge relief. Now the main obstacle to the café running smoothly was her attraction to her sinfully handsome landlord.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE CHAMPAGNE CORK POPPED. If Olivia’s grin was half as wide as Jill’s, she was pretty sure she bore a striking resemblance to the Cheshire cat. The past few weeks had been hectic. They’d worked from dawn until dusk planning menus, sewing tablecloths, and decorating the café. But it had been worth the effort. Today, the Cottage Café was open for business.

  “Get that down you.” Jill handed Olivia one of the elegant champagne flutes Granddad had loaned them from his Waterford Crystal collection.

  “Cheers,” yelled Kyle, waving a cup of apple punch. To their sister’s amazement, he and Ronan had hauled their teenage arses out of bed early to help set up the café for its opening day. Apart from a thwarted attempt to spike the punch, they’d been on their best behavior. To no one’s surprise, she hadn’t invited her parents. Since the argument with her mother, they weren’t on speaking terms.

  Olivia raised her glass and addressed the crowd. “Thanks for coming, everyone. I appreciate all you’ve done to get the café ready. I owe special thanks to Kyle for the beautiful stencil work on the walls; to Ronan for helping arrange and decorate the tables; to Granddad for everything he’s done to support me in following my dream; to Bridie for coming to my rescue when I needed a roof over my head; to Jonas and Luca, my landlord and chief taste-tester respectively; and last but definitely not least, to Jill and Fiona for being the best friends a woman could ask for. Now all that remains to be said is eat, drink, and be merry.”

  Everyone cheered.

  “Not a bad speech, sis.” Ronan slapped her on the back. “Even if you’ll never win any debating contests.”

  She laughed. “That’s your role, little brother. Just don’t get into any more fights at school.”

  Taking a sip of champagne, she surveyed the café with a swell of pride. It looked just as she’d imagined. The wicker chairs and tables were perfectly aligned and decorated. The display case was filled with freshly baked goods to tempt customers to order a little something to eat with their tea or coffee. The gift stand was small but well stocked with Olivia’s hand-knitted scarves, bath products created by a local beautician, and beautiful beaded necklaces.

  She was relishing the taste of champagne bubbles on her tongue when Jonas and Luca squeezed through the revelers. Jonas had made an effort for the occasion—his black shirt was wrinkle-free, and his dark jeans less scruffy than his usual attire. He glanced around with obvious approval. “Place looks great, Olivia.”

  A ready smile sprang to her mouth. “Your father and his team did a great job.”

  “Yeah, they did, but I was referring to how well you’ve set it up for the opening. The display window is bound to entice customers through the door, and the smell will keep them here.”

  “Fingers crossed.” The only smell she was aware of at this moment was his subtle male scent teasing her senses. Since the night of that crazy, sexy kiss, her thoughts strayed in his direction with alarming frequency. Focus, Olivia. She beckoned to Luca. “Why don’t you sample the butterfly cakes? I’d like your opinion before customers start arriving.”

  Luca examined the tray of cakes and pointed to one on the left. “The sprinkles are out of alignment.”

  Olivia stifled a grin. To her eye, the cake was identical to its companions. “Why don’t you eat it and tell me if it tastes good in spite of the sprinkle situation?”

  Luca took a delicate bite out of the sugary treat.

  “By the expression of ecstasy on his face, I suspect it’s a hit,” his father said dryly. “Is it a thumbs-up, Luca?”

  The boy inclined his head and gave them a cream-covered thumbs-up. “I’d better taste test the raspberry muffins too.”

  “You do that,” Olivia said. “Ask Ronan to pour you a glass of apple punch.”

  Luca made a beeline for the muffins.

  “Out of alignment,” Olivia said with a laugh. “Do you teach him these phrases?”

  Jonas grinned. “God, no. He picks them up. Precision is important to him. Kids with Asperger’s like order, and they find it difficult to filter information in the way the rest of us do, so something that isn’t quite right stands out.”

  “Do you notice a difference since he started the therapy in Cork?”

  “I think so. His eye contact is improving, but I’m less aware of that than a stranger would be. He’s always been pretty good at making and maintaining eye contact with peop
le he knows well.”

  “Does the health insurance cover his therapies?”

  “To an extent. I pay out of pocket for the program in Cork.”

  “I’m going to miss babysitting the little guy. He’s welcome to pop into the café whenever he wants.”

  Jonas’s smile warmed her from the inside out. “Thank you. I know he’ll appreciate that.”

  “When does his new sitter start?”

  “Next week,” he said, reaching for a fairy cake. “She’s a childcare student who did work experience with Luca’s class. Miss O’Brien, his teacher, recommended her.”

  “I hope it works out.” Her gaze was drawn to his mouth, watching him take a bite of fairy cake.

  He favored her with one of his crinkly-eyed smiles. “This tastes divine.”

  Jill’s sister Naomi appeared before them, a slight flush on her cheeks. “Jonas…would you mind autographing one of my Detective Inspector Brady books for me? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all,” he replied smoothly. “I didn’t realize you were a fan.”

  Neither had Olivia. She’d made a point of avoiding Jonas’s novels for years, tuning out conversation if they were mentioned. Petty, true, but reflective of her feelings for the man. But that was then. What she thought of him now was too confusing to process.

  Naomi whipped out a well-worn paperback and handed it to Jonas. “This is my favorite one in the series.”

  Olivia agreed with her assessment. After devouring the first Brady novel in one night, she went out and bought the rest of the series, reading them in quick succession. Jonas’s clever insights into his characters’ personalities impressed her as did his focus on everyday people driven to murder. There were no omniscient serial killers in his books.

  Jonas smiled and took the book from Naomi. “I have a particular affection for that one too. It was the first time I tried writing two stories parallel, and I was convinced it would be a disaster. No one was more surprised than I when it actually worked.”

  He withdrew a fountain pen from his shirt pocket and wrote his signature with a flourish. His handwriting was neater than Olivia expected. It was difficult to imagine those big hands tapping away at a keyboard, but they’d proven adept at undoing her hair ribbon, among other things…

  “Olivia,” called her grandfather, drawing her attention away from Jonas and the gushing Naomi. “What do you think of the window decorations?”

  They’d strewn rose petals from his garden to create a fairytale effect. It was cute without venturing into kitsch territory.

  “They’re gorgeous, Granddad,” she assured him. “Thank you so much for your help.”

  “You’re welcome, my dear. I have one granddaughter, and I’m entitled to spoil her.”

  An influx of customers heralded an hour that passed by in a whirl. The new coffee machine was a great hit, as were the bread and cakes. Naomi was a little awkward with the customers at first, but unstiffened as she gained confidence. Jill was a natural. Fingers crossed these were good omens for the café’s future.

  Olivia was chatting with a few of her grandfather’s bridge-playing companions when a hushed silence fell over the café. The chill that slithered down her spine alerted her to his presence before her eyes confirmed it.

  Aidan.

  He strode into the café, dapper in a three-piece suit and handmade Italian loafers. Olivia’s mood descended from elated to deflated.

  Jutting her jaw, she marched toward him. “I’d like you to leave.”

  “What?” He sneered. “You’re evicting a potential customer on your opening day? If you have no more business sense than that, you’ll be crawling back to me in weeks.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Don’t hold your breath. Now get out.”

  “Nonsense.” He pushed past her, advancing on the punch bowl where little Luca was standing. “There’s a new café in town. An excellent opportunity for me to mingle with my constituents.”

  “You’re on the town council, Aidan,” she snapped, moving briskly to keep pace. “You’re not mayor yet.”

  The sneer stiffened into a rictus. “If all goes to plan, I will be next month.”

  God forbid. She knew the sort of politics Aidan endorsed, and they were enough to make any emancipated woman weep. “Leave now, or I’ll call the police. I’m serious.”

  He ignored her and poured himself a generous helping of punch. He’d be distraught when he discovered it was of the alcohol-free variety.

  “Is there a problem?” Jonas’s expression was grimmer than the reaper.

  “Ah, O’Mahony.” Aidan flashed him an insincere smile around his punch cup. “I should have known you’d show your carcass at this shindig.”

  “I do live next door.”

  “How cozy,” Aidan drawled. “All the better to steal my wife away from me. I wonder what Olivia’s solicitor would have to say about this arrangement.”

  “I wonder what yours would have to say about Moira Keating,” she snapped, “or are you being foolish enough to represent yourself?”

  “A man is entitled to seek his pleasure elsewhere if his wife fails to satisfy him in the bedroom.”

  A muscle in Jonas’s jaw flexed. “Planning on putting that little morsel in your campaign brochure?”

  Aidan laughed and drained his punch. Immediately his face turned an interesting shade of puce and he began to gag. “What. The. Fuck?”

  “Don’t you like the punch?” Luca asked, his expression deadpan.

  Olivia seized a bowl of chips, dumped its contents onto a table, and shoved the bowl under Aidan’s chin. “If you must retch, use this.”

  “Are you trying to poison me?” he gasped and let out a loud fart. “Jesus Christ. What was in that stuff?”

  She folded her arms across her chest and stared her estranged husband down. “No one else seems to have found the punch objectionable.”

  Aidan made a retching noise, followed by another explosive fart.

  Jonas placed a palm between Aidan’s shoulder blades and propelled him toward the door. The older man took mincing steps, clenching his buttocks. “Take this to be a sign,” Jonas said, “that the Cottage Café isn’t destined to become your regular hangout.”

  “Fuck. You. O’Mahony.”

  “You say that a lot. One for the campaign posters, perhaps?” With a final shove, Jonas catapulted Aidan out into the street and shut the café door.

  A moment of stunned silence reigned.

  “Someone,” said Bridie Byrne, her strident tones slicing through the silence, “should give that child a medal. Whatever did you put in the punch?”

  All eyes focused on Luca. The little boy shrugged and produced an empty bottle from his pocket.

  “Finbar’s Farting Fluid,” Jonas read aloud. “Jaysus, I remember this stuff. You can buy it from the joke shop on Patrick Street. It’s lethal. Aidan will be glued to the toilet until Christmas.”

  Olivia, struggling to maintain her composure, addressed the miscreant. “You just happened to have a bottle in your pocket?”

  Luca’s gaze was steady and unperturbed. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  BY THE MIDDLE OF JUNE, Luca was on his summer holidays and was thoroughly bored. And if Luca was bored, everyone around him knew about it. His new babysitter was a good sport, but it would take a while for her to build up a rapport with the boy. Meanwhile, her charge made it his mission to sneak into his father’s office as frequently as possible.

  One evening shortly before seven o’clock, Jonas pushed his chair back from his computer. “Okay, Mister Ants-in-his-Pants. I’m all yours. What do you want to do before bedtime?”

  “Visit Granny and Granddad.”

  “No can do, kiddo. Granny and Aunt Mary won’t get home from the airport for another couple of hours. I said we’d call round for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Do you think Granny brought me back a present from her cruise?” Luca asked, making his fat
her smile at his deceptively disinterested tone.

  “I believe she might have mentioned having a surprise for you in her suitcase.” Jonas ruffled the little boy’s hair. “If visiting your grandparents is off the cards, what would you like to do between now and bedtime?”

  Luca answered without hesitation. “Call into the café. Then walk on the beach.”

  Jonas glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly closing time.”

  “We’d better hurry up.” The boy tugged at his sleeve. “Come on, Dad. We can buy scones to eat on the beach.”

  “All right. Don’t forget your jacket. It gets chilly down by the water.”

  By the time Jonas had locked the cottage, Luca had already scampered next door. As he’d predicted, Olivia was ringing up the bill for the last customers of the day. She looked tired but cheerful. He found himself grinning like a loon when she spotted him. Her answering smile made his heart swell.

  “Luca wants scones to take with us on our evening walk.”

  “Are berry ones acceptable?” Olivia directed the question at the little boy, who’d marched behind the counter with a predatory air. “We’re sold out of every other flavor.”

  “The berry scones are my favorites.”

  She winked at Jonas. “In that case, I’ll pop two into a bag with a couple of paper napkins. You can have a proper picnic.”

  “Business good?” He indicated the almost empty display cabinet.

  “Too good.” She beamed with pride. “We’re struggling to keep up with the demand.”

  “You were smart to open at the start of the tourist season.”

  “I’d hoped the timing would kick-start trade, but I didn’t expect the café to take off like it has.”

  “I’m glad for you, Olivia. You deserve your success.” He rolled the question on his tongue before he posed it. “I was wondering if…well…”

  “Yes?” she prompted, a knowing glint in her eyes.

  “…if you’d like to go out to dinner sometime?”

  The smile widened. “I’d love to. When did you have in mind?”

  “I’ll be away for a couple of days as of this Thursday, so how about the following week? Maybe Wednesday?”