Love and Shenanigans (Ballybeg, Book 1) (The Ballybeg Series)

by Zara Keane

  “Ah, men. Such eejits.” Fiona propped herself up on her elbows. “Let’s be honest, Gavin. Even if you hadn’t run for hills eight years ago, it probably wouldn’t have worked. The timing was wrong. I needed the chance to develop self-confidence, and you needed to see that love and passion aren’t synonymous with turmoil and chaos.”

  “I’d never felt so drawn to anyone before. Frankly, it scared the crap out of me.”

  Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “In other words, I scared the crap out of you.”

  “You were so”—he struggled to find the right words—“vulnerable. Intense.”

  “Add insecure and needy to the list, and you’ve got my younger incarnation summed up.” She grinned at him, and he had the urge to trace the curve of her smile with his index finger.

  “Where do we go from here? I don’t want these days in Clare to be it for us.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Let’s worry about our future later. First, I need to confront Bernard.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  BERNARD BYRNE WAS NOT having a good day. His niece was making damn sure of that—and relishing every millisecond of his discomfort.

  With Garda Brian Glenn sitting to her right, Fiona smiled across the conference table at her uncle and Aidan Gant. Bernard’s toupee was off-center, as sometimes happened to him in moments of great stress. This meeting definitely qualified.

  “So you see, Bernard,” she said, handing him a copy of Ann Dunne’s sworn statement, “you have no choice.”

  Bernard stared at the paper as if it were laced with anthrax.

  “Aidan assures us he had nothing whatsoever to do with the forged will.” Fiona gave Aidan a significant look. She knew damn well he was in this business up to his balls, but unlike Bernard, he’d been smart enough to cover his arse. “Garda Glenn assures me there’s enough evidence to charge you, but as I’m sure Aidan will agree, settling out of court is in both our best interests. The Irish judicial system being what it is, it could take years to sort out, and the only winners would be the lawyers.”

  Bernard licked beads of moisture from his upper lip. “What are you suggesting?”

  “That you pay me and Bridie the value of the land you stole from us at the price we would have gotten had we sold it right after Nana died.”

  His eyes bulged. “But that was during the property boom! It’s not worth anything like that amount now, nor was it before.”

  “Tough shit, Bernard. Those are my terms—along with three other stipulations.” She smiled at him, enjoying prolonging his agony.

  “What stipulations?” He dabbed sweat from his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief.

  “Firstly, the fairy tree stays. There’s no reason you can’t build your shopping center a few hundred meters down the road.”

  Bernard and Aidan exchanged glances. “Fair enough,” Aidan said—he would agree to pretty much anything as long as it didn’t jeopardize his stake in the shopping center, and Fiona was perfectly happy to play that card for all it was worth.

  “Secondly, you buy out Gavin’s share of Clonmore Lodge.”

  “This is outrageous!” A vein in her uncle’s temple bulged.

  “All right,” Aidan said, shooting his client a warning look. “What’s the final stipulation?”

  “It’s in both our best interests if those details don’t reach Garda Glenn’s ears.” Fiona winked at Brian. During the drive from the police station to Aidan Gant’s offices, she’d filled him in on the particulars. While she doubted he’d be solving organized crime anytime soon, he’d proved surprisingly quick on the uptake regarding her uncle.

  Flashing her a grin, Brian pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll just nip to the loo. Don’t break any laws while I’m gone.”

  After Brian closed the door, Fiona turned to Bernard. “My final stipulation is this: I want whatever evidence you’ve conjured to frame Gavin for stealing money from your company. All copies of said evidence. You promise—in writing—not to jeopardize Gavin’s career in any way. Understood?”

  Bernard’s nostrils flared, and he turned an interesting shade of puce. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Aidan put a firm hand on his arm. “What if Bernard doesn’t agree to your terms?”

  “Then this will not only go to the courts, but to every tabloid in the country. How do you think Deirdre and Muireann will feel about being dragged into a scandal? And as for you, Aidan, how do you think your political pals will react to the news of your most prominent client and future business partner forging his own mother’s will and cheating his sister and orphaned niece out of their inheritance?”

  Bernard slid a look of appeal to Aidan. Aidan ignored him.

  “Bernard will be delighted to take the deal,” he said smoothly. “Put the specifics in writing, and I’ll get on it right away.”

  After confronting Bernard at Gant’s, Fiona’s adrenalin spike plummeted. She’d spent the two days since their return from Clare orchestrating today’s confrontation. It had left her drained of energy and all out of sass. Needing to be somewhere she could be alone and clear her head, she went to the place that had been her refuge in times past—the Book Mark. Sitting in the familiar surroundings, now freshly painted and decorated, she tried to make sense of her racing thoughts.

  One thing was clear: she had to make a decision. At Bridie’s hospital appointment that morning, the doctors had given her the green light to go back to work on a part-time basis when the shop reopened for business tomorrow. By the end of January, she’d be back full-time.

  After months of willing this day to come, Fiona was free to rebook her ticket to Australia. So why wasn’t she whisking out her phone and making the call? Was she truly contemplating taking the biggest gamble of her life and staying in Ballybeg with Gavin?

  When she heard the jangle of the Book Mark’s door, her heart jumped. Philip stood on the threshold, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. In his left fist, he clutched a bunch of drooping yellow roses. She knew what he was about to say before he opened his mouth.

  “FeeFee, we were so good together. Please give us another chance.” He held out the bunch of flowers.

  She squinted at the ribbon binding the stems. “If you selected a bouquet to symbolize our relationship, you chose well. But if your intention was to woo me, you need a refresher course on chivalry.”

  “Eh?” He glanced uncertainly at the flowers.

  “The black ribbon, Philip. It’s a dead giveaway—literally.”

  He stared at her blankly, then his gaze dropped to the tired bouquet. He flushed as realization dawned.

  Fiona crossed her arms over her chest. “Whose grave did you rob? I know memorial flowers when I see them, and I’m sure as feck not accepting them as a peace offering.”

  His eyes darted from side to side before settling on the faded wood floor. “I… didn’t think.”

  “You never do.” She sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry. I think I’ll roll with laughter—it’s better for the heart.”

  “Isn’t it the thought that counts?”

  “Not when the thought involves nicking flowers off a grave.” She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Why are you in Ballybeg, Philip? It’s not because you’re in love with me. Hell, I’m not convinced you find me attractive.”

  His head shot up. “Of course I’m in love with you. Sure, you’re a great shag.”

  She made no attempt to hide her eye roll. “For an actor, your courtship technique needs improvement.”

  “Come on, FeeFee. What do you want me to do? Serenade you?”

  She held up a palm. “Don’t call me that. My name is Fiona.”

  “But it’s my pet name for you.”

  “Which I’ve always hated. And you lost the right to call me anything once you shagged Rachel Monroe. How long was it going on for, Philip? How many others were there?”

  He flushed and shoved his free hand in his jeans
pocket. “You knew about Rachel? I’d wondered if you’d found out. Why didn’t you say something about it when you broke up with me?”

  “Because I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of humiliating me any farther than you already had.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “She meant nothing to me, I swear, FeeF… Fiona. It was just sex, nothing more.”

  “Why did you cheat on me?”

  “I dunno. I acted on impulse. I was stoned and angry with you.”

  “Not that stoned, apparently,” she said acidly. “Why were you angry with me?”

  “You kept nagging me about getting a part-time job and saving up for the trip.”

  “You said you wanted to come to Australia with me.”

  He gave one of his half shrugs. “I did. But I wanted to earn the money through acting.”

  She puffed her cheeks out and exhaled. The man was exasperating! “You hadn’t acted in months. Not since your soap character was killed off in a fiery car crash.”

  “I had auditions, though.” He tossed the flowers onto a table. “I knew my luck would turn.”

  “Obviously, it didn’t. If it had, you wouldn’t be down in Cork playing the role of Dopey in a Christmas pantomime.”

  “Come on, Fiona. Give us another shot. I miss you.”

  She shook her head. “What you miss is someone organizing you, cleaning up after you, washing your clothes, and bailing you out every time you get yourself into a financial mess. You’re almost thirty years old. A grown man. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Oh, come on. It was only the once with Rachel. Are you really going to let one indiscretion wreck what we had together?”

  “Yes, I am. Rachel was only the catalyst. We should have broken up a couple of years ago. Be honest, for once. We were bored. I know I was. Weren’t you? Surely we both deserve better than a partner who bores us. We stayed together because we didn’t want change. I stayed because finding someone new seemed like too much of an effort. I was approaching my late twenties, and all my friends were settling down, getting married, and starting families. I guess I didn’t want to be the odd one out. You stayed with me because it was convenient. I was the perfect mother substitute, right down to washing your laundry.”

  “I doubt my mother would know how to operate a washing machine,” he muttered. “Our housekeeper takes care of that.”

  A reluctant laugh escaped her. “Well, you know what I mean. We were never meant to be anything more than a stopgap relationship. If you think you love me, you’re deluding yourself. If you truly felt that way about me, you’d have treated me a damn sight better than you did.”

  He remained silent, squirming awkwardly on the spot. She felt no need to fill the void. Eventually, he shifted. “I guess I’d better be going.”

  “Yes, I think that would be best.”

  “Can we keep in touch?”

  “No,” she said without hesitation. “I’m not angry with you anymore, but I don’t want to be your friend.”

  His mouth opened and closed, fish-like. “Fair enough. But if you change your mind—”

  “I won’t,” she said firmly. “Good-bye, Philip.”

  He gave a feeble salute and exited the shop.

  She picked up the limp bunch of flowers from where he’d dropped it and fingered the frayed black ribbon. Philip would never know it, but he’d just done her an enormous favor. While he’d presented her with a stolen bouquet and mouthed meaningless platitudes, she’d come to a decision.

  Grabbing her handbag from the counter, she tossed the flowers into the bin. It was time to make peace with her past and embrace her future.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  GAVIN STEPPED OUT of O’Dwyer’s Jewelers and fingered the box burning a hole in his pocket. It contained a gold Claddagh ring. He’d considered buying one for Muireann when he first planned to propose to her. However, his subtle probing as to whether or not she liked the idea of wearing a traditional Irish wedding band had quickly disabused him of the notion. His former fiancée would settle for nothing less than a diamond-studded extravaganza.

  Clutching Wiggly Poo’s lead, he crossed Patrick Street and stopped in front of the Book Mark. The little dog whined with excitement and tugged on his lead in an effort to race to the shop door.

  “Steady on, mate.” At the same moment Gavin pushed on the door, it opened from within. He found himself nose-to-nose with Fiona. A very startled, sweetly-scented Fiona.

  “Hey,” she said, blinking. Her face creased into a smile.

  Cupping her chin in his hand, he took in her lovely face with its smattering of freckles, admired her soft hair and feminine curves. He’d never seen anyone more perfect in all his life.

  His heart was performing an Irish jig. This was his chance—perhaps the last chance he’d have—to tell her how he felt. “Will you come for a walk with me? Wiggly Poo needs an airing. We could head down the beach. The tide’s out, and…” Why was he babbling? If he didn’t get a grip, he’d screw this up. Again. A post-coital declaration wasn’t good enough. Fiona deserved a touch of romance.

  “Yes,” she said decisively. “A walk would do me good. We can catch up on what we’ve been up to over the past couple of days.”

  He enclosed her hand in his free one and kept a grip on the dog’s lead with the other. They walked toward Beach Road and took the stone steps down to the strand.

  Wiggly Poo scrambled down the slippery steps with more speed than grace. Gavin hurled a small ball through the air, and the puppy shot after it.

  “Aidan Gant phoned earlier,” he said, catching Fiona’s eye. “Apparently, Bernard has agreed to buy back my share of Clonmore Lodge. I don’t suppose you know anything about his sudden change of heart?”

  Her green irises twinkled with merriment. “Perhaps.”

  “Ah, Fiona. Isn’t the knight in shining armor supposed to slay the dragon and rescue the princess?”

  She gave him a playful shove. “You’re reading the wrong fairytales, Maguire. In Celtic mythology, the heroines kick arse.”

  They took the route toward Craggy Point. Wiggly Poo darted across the sand to bark at seaweed and other known enemies.

  “You’re looking very pleased with yourself,” she said as they scrambled over some lichen-encrusted rocks. “Care to share?”

  “If Bernard buys my share of Clonmore Lodge, I won’t need to sell the cottage. And as the cottage doesn’t have a mortgage, I can live on far less than I needed to earn before.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a positive change?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, yes. I’m enjoying working on Ruairí’s pub renovations. Before Christmas, Liam O’Mahony mentioned he’s looking for an architect to collaborate with him on house renovations and the like. I gave him a call this morning and said I was interested. Between working with Liam and the few lecturing hours at the university, I’ll earn more than enough to support myself and Wiggly Poo.”

  Her warm smile set the butterflies in his stomach free. “Would you be content working on smaller domestic projects like house renovations and extensions?” she asked.

  “For the moment, yes. The experience certainly won’t hurt my C.V.”

  When they reached Craggy Point, Wiggly Poo was thrilled to discover an enormous clump of seaweed to attack. Meanwhile, Gavin had no difficulty in locating the cave Fiona had shown him a few months ago.

  She blinked in confusion when he led her into the cave. “Why are we here?”

  “Do you remember our first kiss?” he asked. “The first one this decade, I mean.”

  She smiled, displaying her dimples. “Of course. I got sentimental and showed you my parents’ carving.”

  “Feel like getting sentimental all over again?” He tugged her down the passage. “See,” he said, withdrawing a piece of flint from his coat pocket, “I came prepared.”

  Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  “Carving our names into the cave wall, my sweet. W
hy do you think I dragged you all the way out here?” He scratched their names high up on the wall, well past tide level. Then he added the final flourish to his creation—a small Cupid’s bow and arrow.

  “You’re daft,” she said, blushing.

  He grinned. “Not daft. In love.”

  He heard her intake of breath.

  Slipping his hand into his coat pocket, he extracted the ring box and slid to one knee. “Fiona, I screwed up in Vegas, but I’m not going to make the same mistake in Ballybeg. Will you give our relationship a second chance?”

  “Are you asking me to stay in Ballybeg?”

  He wanted to kiss away the tremor in her voice. “I’m asking you to stay with me. I just told you Liam’s offered me some freelance work. If I do a good job on the pub renovation and whatever Liam gives me over the next few months, I’ll have a solid foundation to set up on my own in Dublin, Cork, or wherever else we decide to live. I don’t mind doing the distance thing for a while, especially if you need more time to make up your mind about where you want us to settle.”

  She worried her lip ring. “What about my trip to Australia?”

  “I’ve already thought about that. As it happens, Liam’s taking a couple of weeks’ holiday in March. That coincides with the university mid-semester break. Now that Jonas is moving back to Ballybeg with Luca, I’ve offered him the use of the cottage to write while we’re in Australia. In return, he’ll look after Wiggly Poo.”

  Her lips parted but she made no sound.

  “Of course,” he said hurriedly, “all these plans are worth naught if you won’t have me.”

  She laughed. “Of course I’ll have you, you daft eejit. Now get up off that damp floor and kiss me.”

  “Wait a sec.” He flipped open the jewelry box. “I almost forgot to give you this.”

  “Oh!” She gasped. “It’s gorgeous.”

  He slipped the Claddagh ring onto her finger. It was the perfect fit.

  “How did you know my size?” she asked, admiring her new ring in the soft sunlight.

  “I asked Bridie to nick one of your rings and measure it. She was thrilled to assist.”