She laughed softly while continuing to hold his hand, sending blood rushing directly to his southern area. If she was any closer she would be able to feel the affect she had on him.
He shouldn’t be flirting with her right now. He should be accusing her for using him when clearly she was involved with someone else. He should be chastising her for leading him on and building up false hope, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t say anything mean to her, yell at her or make her feel bad. No he wanted to make her smile, he wanted to make her feel comfortable, he wanted to show her the world she so desperately wanted to see.
She interrupted his thoughts when she said, “Thanks for the help up.”
He just looked at her, studying her every feature. She was such a beauty. Her skin was so creamy and soft, her hair was a gorgeous auburn color that filled her head and cascaded over her shoulders. Her eyes were devastating to any man and her smile could stop a person in their tracks.
He caught himself staring when he saw her starting to get uncomfortable, so pulled herself away.
“Uh, yea no problem.” She started to brush off her butt when he said, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
He knew she was probably hanging with her Irish stud muffin but he couldn’t give up that easily on her, especially after the way she kissed him the night before.
She looked at him with a bit of shock on her face. “I’m working tomorrow night, I work almost every night.”
“What are you doing after?”
She pulled herself away and started to pull her cart from the pumpkin crate. “I don’t think whatever you’re thinking is a good idea.”
“You clearly don’t know me.” He said while pulling himself closer to her and trapping her between him and her cart. “I’m full of great ideas.”
“You know what I mean.” She brushed some hair out of her face. He leant a hand to help her and lingered on her cheek.
“Is this because you have a boyfriend?”
“I do not have a boyfriend.” She practically spat out each word clearly so he got the picture.
“You don’t, so do you just happen to kiss every man you happen to run into?” He knew it was none of his business what she did, but he had to know what kind of relationship she had with Murphy. He needed to know her status so he could pursue her properly.
“How dare you.” She accused him.
Damn, not the right way to push her buttons, she tried to loosen his grip but he held still. She was not getting away that easily.
“Listen, I like you Fiona, I want to get to know you better but I just wanted to make sure you were not attached to someone else.” He leaned in closer, practically whispering in her ear. “Now that I know you are not involved, technically, will you give me the opportunity to get to know you better?”
***
Fiona stood inches away from Booker, he smelled like heaven, like those teenage stores you walk by that blare music and bleed out their signature scent. But his was more masculine, it ate her up and made her weak in the knees.
He liked her? What guy just comes out and says what they are thinking especially when earlier in the morning he caught her making out with another man? One thing she knew was for sure, Booker had balls, balls of steal. The vision of his balls in her head made her thoughts linger in his southern area and how great his tight jeans looked on him…
“What do you say, Fiona?”
Realizing she hadn’t answered him yet she looked into his crystal clear blue eyes. She saw lust and yearning. He was serious about her. She had no clue why. She was some lonely pub waitress and he was a gorgeous man who had traveled the world, why would he want anything to do with her? Remembering that he was a tourist, she answered back. “What’s the point Booker? You are only here for what? A couple of weeks? You are just going to end up leaving.”
He brushed a stray tear away from her eye she didn’t know was there. Why was she crying? God she was a mess.
“That is not true. I’m here for as long as I want to be.”
“Until you get bored. I can’t allow myself to get attached to tourists, especially someone like you, it’s the number one rule when you live in a touristy town.”
“Believe me, I won’t get bored.” He continued to stroke her face which she started to get accustomed to. “Please Fiona, just give me a chance. Take it one step at a time.”
He rubbed his thumb pad along her jaw as he studied her face. Murphy never looked at her the way Booker did. It was like she was a book and he was reading her, engrossed in her. He understood her, Murphy saw her for her looks and that was it.
She knew she was making a huge mistake and a voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to say no and walk away but her brain tuned that voice out.
“One night, that’s all I can give you for now.”
“That’s enough for me. I will pick you up after work tomorrow.” He leaned in and planted a very soft kiss on her lips, pulled away, gave her a wink and walked away.
She was standing next to a dented pumpkin cart, swaying to and fro from the magical spell Booker casted her under. She felt dazed and slightly confused. What just happened? Oh yes she agreed to one night with Booker, one night that she knew was going to blow her away and ruin her forever.
Chapter 5
Liam didn’t know where else to go, that’s why he found himself at the front of Sophie Michaels’ door. He shouldn’t be here, he kept repeating those words over and over in his head as he walked up her front steps. She was the reason why his wife wanted a divorce, she was the reason why his family was getting ripped apart. Nothing ever happened between him and Sophie but Liam knew how Neala must feel given his past with Sophie. That was why he had to see her, to clear some things up.
In a distant past, Sophie and Liam were high school sweethearts. They grew up together in Warblers Point, suffered the crazy winter tourist traffic and relaxed together in the abandoned summer nights. At first they were best friends, then in middle school they shared their first kiss together at his parent’s pond, high school rolled around and they were inseparable. It wasn’t until she went off to college and met someone else when their love affair came to a grinding halt. She ended up marrying some idiot straight out of college, crushing any kind of hopes or dreams Liam had for them in the future. It wasn’t until recently that she returned to Warblers Point, opened a bakery trying to make a new life for herself since her nasty divorce. They renewed their friendship, hung out a couple of times but being friends was as far as their relationship went. Sophie respected the fact that Liam was married and had a child. When Sophie met Neala, she found her pleasant and they seemed to get along.
Liam knocked on Sophie’s door and waited for her to answer. She took a minute too long and he started to get cold feet as he reconsidered if seeing her would be the right thing, especially since Neala practically kicked him out of his own house. He knew he shouldn’t be there. He closed her screen door and headed for his car. He was about to open his door when he heard Sophie call his name from her house.
He turned around and saw her standing in her doorway with a concerned look on her face. She was five foot nothing with long black hair and light grey eyes that spoke her words for her. She was wearing an apron that was caked with flour and in her hand was a wooden spoon. He couldn’t just leave now since she spotted him so he headed over to her door, stopping right in front of her steps.
“What’s wrong Liam?” She could always read him so well, he appreciated how they were always so in tune with each other.
He shook his head in disappointment and said, “Neala told me she wants a divorce this morning. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Sophie flew off her steps and wrapped him in one of her classic hugs, full of warmth…and love.
“Oh Liam, I’m so sorry. Come in and tell me everything.”
Sophie escorted him into her house that smelled like oatmeal raisin cookies and vanilla. She had a little cottage type house, where she had a fire b
lazing in her living room and candles burning throughout her house almost at all times. She was a strong believer in candles, she always said they soothed her soul. She pulled her apron off and placed it on her kitchen table along with her wooden spoon, pulled some cookies out of the oven, turned it off and pulled him into her living room on the couch for a chat session.
She held his hand and said, “What happened?”
He looked into those grey eyes of hers and lost himself. He had to tell her the truth.
“She thinks I’m in love with you.”
She went rigid and dropped his hand. Instantly the warmth he was starting to feel from her presence left his body. At the same time she started to move away from him shaking her head.
“You don’t love me Liam, not like that. Doesn’t she know we are just friends?”
“That’s what I told her but she doesn’t believe me. She handed me the papers today. I don’t know what to do.”
“Fight for her!” Sophie practically shouted.
“I tried. She wants nothing to do with me. She said she doesn’t want to be married to someone who is in love with someone else.”
As she looked at him with concern there was a slight pain in the pit of his stomach that was starting to make him nauseous. He was looking at Sophie, watching her eyes worry with concern, her perfect lips part with shock and her silky black hair flow over her shoulders and that was when he realized, maybe a part of him was still in love with his Sophie.
He instantly stood up and told her he had to leave. He could not be in her house with her, with candles burning and her soft warm touches. Nope that was one of the worst ideas he ever had. He hadn’t felt anything for her since she left him for college but the instant he was surrounded by her in her house, her warm and welcoming environment, every emotion and feeling he ever had for her came rushing back.
He was about to leave her house when he felt her little hand grab his arm. “Where are you going? Did I say something wrong?”
He looked back at her, panic flooding her eyes as well as tears. Damn it. He pulled her into his embrace and said, “No Soph, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the idiot.”
He kissed the top of her head and left.
***
Booker woke up the next day at The Sleeping Potato, energized and ready to go. He was going to blow Fiona’s socks off and he knew just how to do it. He took a shower, got dressed, made his bed and grabbed his jacket before heading to the main house for breakfast. He was really enjoying his stay at the quaint bed and breakfast. The owners, Fiona’s parents, were attentive and kind while his little cabin was perfect for his stay. He had his privacy but still felt taken care of.
He walked along the red brick path and watched the morning fog lift off the pond. The scenery Vermont had to offer was sheer elegance according to Booker. Everything was so natural, even the buildings and paths he walked on.
A man started walking along the same path as Booker was walking. Feeling awkward, Booker looked toward the man and stopped in his tracks. He looked just like a little Irish bombshell he knew but with blue eyes.
“Are you an O’Leary too?” Booker asked the man walking next to him.
The man stopped and smiled. “Is it that obvious?”
“You look just like your sister.”
The man chuckled. “I should deck you for insinuating that I look like a lady.”
Booker threw his hands up jokingly. “Hey she’s gorgeous so you have nothing to be mad about.”
The man gave him a funny look and said, “Well, now I do. You getting sweet on my sister?”
Great, another brotherly threat to deal with. Didn’t she say she had three? She was not making it easy on him, that was for sure.
“No, no, just stating the obvious.” He held his hand out. “Booker.”
The man took his hand skeptically at first while scoping Booker out and said, “Bradon, you must be the Sheila. You know my sister is spoken for, right?”
Was he ever going to live being the whole Sheila down? The nickname was starting to get irritating but being called the Sheila was not what was irritating him the most, Fiona’s attachment to the hunky Irishman, Murphy, was. Why would Bradon say Fiona was spoken for? Just yesterday she told him she was not dating anyone and there was no way she would have agreed to tonight if she was with someone. Was her brother trying to trick him so he wouldn’t date his sister? If Booker was in Bradon’s shoes and Blair was the girl in question, he would do the same thing, especially if it was a guy he didn’t know.
Booker decided to change the subject. “Do you work at the pub too?”
Bradon eyed him for a second and continued to walk down the path with Booker. “I do occasionally. I mainly work here for my parents. They are getting older and can’t do as much around the inn so I help them out. Plus I get to meet a lot of willing and eager tourists.” Bradon wiggled his eyebrows.
Booker laughed. “Well I hope you’re not talking about me.”
“Aye, Laddie. Tis are a pretty boy but not me type.” Bradon said in a thick Irish brogue.
Continuing to laugh, Booker agreed. “You’re not my type either man. You heading in for breakfast?”
“Of course, I never miss out on my bangers, brown bread and eggs.”
“Bangers?”
Bradon patted Booker’s back while he continued practicing his Irish inflection. “Aye Sheila, don’t tell me ya don’t know what bangers are? Don’t tell me we have an eejit in these parts.”
“Eejit?” Booker felt so confused with the Irish slang being thrown around and the thick accent Bradon was able to nail without a stammer. Booker thought the man probably scored big time when he turned on the charm.
Bradon laughed. “Yup, we definitely have an eejit.”
Bradon opened the door to the main house for Booker and ushered him in. The smell of breakfast overwhelmed him when he walked in. The house was dressed in a dark green on the walls and gold fixtures everywhere. He felt like he was in Ireland when he stepped in the main house, especially with the little red-headed lady wiping her hands on her frilly apron heading his way.
“Why Mr. Hall, aren’t we glad to see ya tis fine mornin’.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on Bradon’s cheek pulling him down. “Mornin’ son. I’m glad to see ya weren’t with ya brothers last night, they got absolutely buckled. Fiona called me this morning sayin’ how she had to carry their sorry arses up the stairs.”
Booker’s senses faired with the mention of Fiona’s name. Instead of sitting down for breakfast, Booker felt himself intruding on the little family conversation between Bradon and his mom but he couldn’t help himself since Fiona was already mentioned in conversation. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would be mentioned again, any kind of clue into her life was like gold to him.
“Damn, I wish I was there last night. I had a date though.”
“Ah, with that Kelly gal?”
“Uh, no.” Bradon pushed back his hair with his hand. “We are no longer seeing each other.”
Mary Margaret frowned and tapped her foot on the floor at a rapidly impressive pace. “And why not?”
Booker watched Bradon squirm in his shoes. “Well, I found out she, uh has dentures and it freaked me out.”
Booker busted out in laughter, he couldn’t contain himself. Bradon was a young attractive guy who could most likely get any girl he wanted and there he was, dating someone with dentures.
Bradon and Mary Margaret both looked at Booker with annoyance in their eyes. He realized he was over-staying his welcome in the little family conversation. He excused himself and headed for the dining area. Filling up his plate with what seemed like sausage, some eggs and some thick sliced bread he headed for the table.
He sat next to an older looking man, slightly balding brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The man was reading the paper and didn’t seem to see Booker sit down until Booker set his orange juice on the table and accidently knocked it over, soaking the man’s newspaper so it w
as unreadable.
“Jesus.” Shouted the man in another Irish accent.
Damn. The man had to be Fiona’s dad, there was no doubt about that now. Booker mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done in irritating the intimidating man first chance her got. He tried to soak up the orange juice before it made things even worse while avoiding eye contact with Fiona’s fuming father.
“I’m so sorry, it was an accident.” Booker said while fumbling around feeling the heat from the man’s gaze.
“Carlin Patrick O’Leary!” Mary Margaret shouted. “Now is that how ya treat one of our guests? Get your arse up and help the poor lad.” The shocked look on Carlin’s face was almost comical. Apparently no one messed with Mary Margaret, she may be small but she was a little fire ball of a woman.
Carlin looked at Booker with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle ya like that. I was so engrossed in me paper that the juice scared me.”
Booker just continued to wipe up the juice and smile. Carlin took the napkins from this hand and wiped himself. The man was tall, just like the O’Leary boys. Booker sized himself up next to the man and knew that if he ever got himself in trouble with Fiona, he would be in for a serious bruising. Booker knew he stood no chance against the four men in Fiona’s life so he made a mental note not to screw anything up with Fiona or else he might as well start digging his own grave.
“Sit down lad, we can take care of the mess.” Mary Margaret came over with some cleaning spray and a towel. Carlin grabbed another orange juice and set it down next to Booker…away from Carlin’s seat.
“Sorry about that.” Booker said. “Apparently I should be drinking coffee, I guess I’m not quite awake enough.”
“I’m glad, ya went for the juice, coffee would have burnt me old balls off.” Carlin gestured to his pants that had juice all over them. Booker was kicking himself under the table for his clumsiness.
Mary Margaret smacked her husband in the arm. “Don’t say ‘me balls’ in front of our guests ya old coot. Where are ye manners?” She turned her attention back to Booker. “Would you like some coffee?” The change in her attitude when she was yelling at her husband and then talking to her guests bordered bi-polar.
Beers, Hens, and Irishmen (Warbler's Point Series) Page 6