“Normally I’d say it’s a good color on you, but maybe keep it to your lips, yeah?”
While it was embarrassing to be caught with lipstick smeared all over my face, if it had happened to my best friend Katie I’d probably pee my pants laughing. Alas, it wasn’t Katie standing here looking like a little girl who’d gotten into her mother’s makeup case; it was me, and I was standing in front of my crush looking like an idiot. So yeah, way less comical.
“Ha ha, very funny,” I remarked, pulling out a hands-wipe from my purse and cleaning my face.
Opening the car door, realizing too late I’d gone to the wrong side. Again. I dropped my purse and the bag containing my grandpa’s medication and my new makeup on the seat, hoping he’d assume that’d been my intention the whole time.
“Wrong side again?” he asked, his lips hitching up in a grin.
I groaned. “Yes.”
Damn him for being so observant.
“I’ve been here weeks. You’d think I’d have gotten the hang of things by now.”
He studied me for a couple of seconds. “It looks like you’re on your way somewhere but I thought maybe, that is if you have time, we could grab a coffee?”
Was it just me or did he look nervous?
I didn’t spend too much time wondering though because the mention of coffee proved a huge, perfect, wonderful distraction.
“Please tell me there’s somewhere close by to get a good cappuccino,” I begged in an overly-dramatic voice while grabbing the neck of his hoodie and twisting it in my hands. “This is a matter of life and death,” I added on a laugh.
When he laughed right along with me, the sound was like honey in my ears. No, not like honey. Whiskey. Rich. Smokey. Warm. It made me think dirty thoughts.
“Whoa, there,” he snickered, his twinkling eyes dipping to my fingers twisted up in his clothing. “Life and death, you say?”
Realizing how close I was to him, I dropped my grip and stepped away. “Yes. My grandma swears by instant and it’s killing me.”
He mock shuddered. “That’s terrible,” he acknowledged, glancing beyond my shoulder. Lifting his chin, he indicated something down the way and my eyes followed. “You know the bookstore at the end of the road?”
“I know of it.”
I loved bookstores but hadn’t been in yet since the pub kept me busy pretty much twenty-four seven.
“I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long,” he answered. “They make the best coffees in town.”
“Well, my survival has been touch and go for a while,” I admitted with a chuckle. “Hence today’s supply run. I’m not going to lie, between the wonky car, these tiny roads, and not knowing any of the brands, I felt a little like Glenn on The Walking Dead, trying to find the necessities.”
“Let’s make sure you don’t expire from withdrawal then and get eaten by zombies.”
Ten minutes later, I stood clutching a steaming mug of cappuccino—the foam prepared exactly the way I liked—between warm, grateful fingers.
“This is heaven.”
I exhaled a satisfied sigh, my eyes catching and holding Declan’s over the rim of the cup.
A small scowl creased his forehead and he looked away, his attention focused on the bookshelf to my right. Call it woman’s intuition or some strange sixth sense, but I got the impression Declan was uncomfortable.
“So,” he said, picking up a random book from the shelf and flipping through its pages. “How do you like being back?”
Setting it back on its shelf without really seeing it, he strolled down the aisle before I could answer. My only option was to follow him.
“It’s certainly different from when I was a kid,” I answered. “When you’re young, so much flies right over your head so I never really realized how much the adults here gossip about everything.”
He let out a sardonic laugh. “Lemme guess, you feel like an animal in the zoo with everyone your grandparents know—and even some they don’t—dropping in to see you in the flesh.”
“Yeah, something like that,” I agreed. “And, of course, people seem inordinately interested in you.”
He cast me a smile that could charm the pants off a lesser woman. “Well, I am kind of a big deal you know?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I answered as we reached the door and Declan held it open. “Obviously you’re the local hero, but it goes way beyond being proud of you into something bordering on … I don’t know, god like status. It seems you, Declan O’Shaughnessy, can do no wrong.”
He lifted his shoulder on a shrug and said, “It’s not bad, Ballycurra. The people are nice and supportive. Don’t tell anyone, but I actually love this place. Doesn’t really fit with my reputation, but a guy’s gotta have his secrets.” Another deadly dimpled smile followed. “Anyhow, you should give it a chance. You might find you actually like it too.”
He nudged his shoulder against mine and though the contact was brief, I couldn’t ignore how solid he felt beneath the padding of his winter coat.
“Here I am,” I said, stating the obvious, when we’d reached the Volkswagen. “I should get going.”
He looked down at the large, metal watch on his arm. “Yeah, me too. I have to be back in Dublin in a bit.”
I unlocked the car but before I could open the door, Declan reached down and did it for me. I wasn’t sure if he’d brushed up against me on purpose, but the contact sent a flash of heat straight to my cheeks … and other places.
Hoping to cover my reaction, I eased into the driver’s seat and raised my cup in salute. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Declan closed my door and lifted his hand on a wave.
When I was halfway down the street, I looked into my rearview mirror to see him standing where I’d left him, staring after me.
Two days later I ran into Declan again, this time when my grandma sent me to the post office.
“So we meet again,” a voice chuckled from behind me in line.
I twisted my head over my shoulder to find him smiling down at me. “If you’re not careful, I might think you’re stalking me,” he said.
“I’d like to point out you are the one who always seems to show up wherever I am. Perhaps you’re stalking me.”
He shrugged but kept on smiling.
Curious about a theory I had, I asked, “What’s with you and the shrugging?”
“What do you mean?”
He looked genuinely perplexed.
I mimicked the gesture he used so often, albeit in a more exaggerated manner, and he broke out in a hearty laugh. “Well?” I asked when he’d finished.
“I honestly don’t know. You’re the first person who’s ever said anything about it.”
“Sure I am,” I muttered under my breath, turning back in line.
He came around in front of me and took the heavy package from my hands, balancing it with one hand against his hip. “Seriously Sophie. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I peered at him with narrowed eyes. “You expect me to believe no one has ever accused you of avoiding answering their questions? Or that you sometimes dismiss them altogether with that damn shrug of yours?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
A long-forgotten memory popped into my head of one of our teachers telling Declan he could get away with murder just by smiling and shrugging if he ever got brought in front of a judge.
I laughed, placing my finger firmly against his chest and pushed. “Oh my god. You’ve been doing it your whole life!”
He looked past me and furrowed his brow.
Why was he being so obstinate about this? It wasn’t really a big deal, just a minor personality quirk I didn’t love because it made me feel like he didn’t care to engage with me on anything other than a superficial level.
When he didn’t respond, I tried to read his face for signs of avoidance but he still seemed genuinely confused.
“You really don’t know you do it, do you?”
&n
bsp; Testily he answered, “I just said I didn’t.”
“Yikes, sorry. Don’t bite my head off.”
I reached for the box and he passed it back to me.
“I should get going,” he said, adding, “I’ll see you later.”
“Don’t you have a letter to mail or something?”
He stopped and for a brief second he looked puzzled again.
“Oh, right.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope. “It’s already stamped,” he said, pushing it toward me. “Can you drop it when you get them to send your package?”
Confounded by what had just happened, wordlessly I took the envelope from him.
“You don’t have to go,” I said as he turned to leave. “I’m sure we can be civil to one another for a few more minutes at least.”
“Actually, I do,” he said, gesturing to his watch. “Thanks for taking care of that.”
He was out the door before I could think how to respond.
“Okay, you’re definitely stalking me,” I remarked when he grabbed a box of cereal I’d been about to put in my cart and tossed it into his own.
“Once again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Then, after a pause, “Sorry about the other day. It’s not often I get called on my bullshit so I didn’t react very well.”
Reaching for a different cereal, I asked, “So you admit it then?”
He picked up a carton of muesli and pretended to inspect its ingredients. “I guess I do.” Returning the box to the shelf he turned to me. “Only, I really didn’t know I did that. You’re the first person who’s ever pointed it out to me.”
“Well, it’s really annoying.”
I pushed my cart down the aisle and he followed.
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked.
Was it just me or was it suspicious he was shopping in Ballycurra instead of whatever grocery store was closest to his place?
“I promised my mom I’d pick up some things for her. Dutiful son and all that.” He shrugged but I let it go because it was no skin off my nose if he didn’t want to talk about the titillating topic of his mother’s grocery list.
But even though I didn’t say anything, he realized at once what he’d done. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
And then he smiled and wow.
He should smile all the damn time because when he did it was like the clouds disappeared and the sun shone brightly while the angels sang. I wanted him to smile at me every damn time I saw him.
“So,” I said, around an uncomfortable cough, “this is three times in a little over a week you’ve been back to Ballycurra?”
It wouldn’t have been remarkable, except he’d told me he typically only visited his mom and sister once a week. His neighborhood wasn’t that far away, but it must have been a pain in the ass to keep making the trek back and forth.
“Eh, old Colleen’s been a bit needier than usual,” he answered. “I think with the holidays coming up she’s trying to guilt me into being home more.”
“But don’t you mind though? I’m sure you have other things you could be doing. Plus, the rugby and all that?”
Yes, I was blatantly fishing for information about what he did in his free time. While we’d shared a number of fun and flirty texts over the past few weeks, they weren’t very deep conversations. I knew a lot about Declan’s schedule, but I didn’t really know anything about his life.
“It’s fine,” he replied, grabbing a carton of milk as I did the same. “Except for practice, games, travel, and special appearances, my schedule’s pretty flexible. If it helps my mom to run errands a couple times a week, I guess I don’t mind.”
“So,” I said, fishing for more details since his last answer hadn’t given anything of substance away, “tell me more about your family.”
“Since my dad passed, there’s just me, my sister Aoife, and my mam, Colleen.”
I chuckled that he called his mom Colleen but he’d told me before she was going through a phase where she thought if her kids called her by her first name, people might think she was younger than she really was which, she thought, would make it easier to attract a new man.
“I’m not sure I remember Aoife. Younger or older?”
“Younger. She’ll be 21 in a couple of months so of course she thinks she knows everything. She’s going through a bit of a wild streak at the moment, which is driving mam bonkers. That’s why I’m spending more time at home. Colleen thinks the threat of me will make her behave,” he said, laughing and shaking his head.
“But you don’t agree.”
“No. Much as it pains me to say it, Aoife’s her own person. And she’s never listened to me before and has no plans to start now.”
“What sort of mischief is your mom worried about? Seems kind of hard to get in trouble in Ballycurra.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. Cian and I found it easy enough back in the day.”
“Yeah, but you’re both boys. Boys are allowed to run wild whereas girls are watched like precious, fragile jewels. I can’t imagine Aoife can do anything in this town without someone reporting her every move to your mom.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right. Mam tried putting her on house arrest this week for something Mrs. McCloskey said happened the other day.”
“And you don’t know what it was?”
“Nope,” he answered, grabbing a loaf of bread. “Neither will say, which means it was pretty bad.”
“Does Aoife go to school, or is she already done?”
“She takes classes at Trinity but lives at home since she can get in and out of the city easy enough on DART. That way I don’t have to pay for room and board.”
“You?”
“Yeah, I um—” he coughed into his hand “—I pay her tuition.”
I didn’t know why he was squirming over the admission. I’d already told him I thought he was a good guy. This just extended my positive inclinations toward him. He did more to take care of his family than just the grocery shopping.
“That’s great of you,” I said, setting my hand on his arm. “You’re a good big brother Declan O’Shaughnessy.”
He glanced down at my hand and then flicked his eyes to mine, holding them for a few seconds. Had I thought before he had a problem with eye contact? I couldn’t recall why since he didn’t struggle with it now.
Without my realizing it, we’d made our way through the entire store to the cleaning supplies. I still hadn’t grown accustomed to the various brands of laundry detergent so I scanned the shelves trying to decide which to buy this time. The last one I’d used had made my sensitive skin itch and break out in a rash. Taking a guess, I reached for one in a bright blue tub but Declan blocked my hand.
“Not that one,” he said, handing me a white tub with a baby strutting confidently across the front. “Try this instead.”
I examined both containers but couldn’t tell the difference. “Why this one and not the other?”
“It’s pretty mild so it won’t fade your clothes as quickly.” He rested his hand against the back of his neck and scratched while focusing his eyes on the array of detergents in front of us, “And it’s unscented.”
That last part came out mumbled but I’d heard it all the same.
“Unscented?”
He gestured to the box in my hand. “That’s what it says on the packaging.”
“And that’s important?”
My eyes searched his face and his eyes locked on mine.
Taking a step closer, he whispered, “Yeah, it is.”
“Why’s that?” I whispered back breathlessly.
“Because,” he said, flicking his tongue across his bottom lip, “I like the way you smell.”
He brushed a lock of hair off my shoulder and traced his fingers down my arm.
“Oh,” I exhaled.
“Oh,” he repeated.
Standi
ng in the middle of Tesco staring at each other, my heart thudded heavily in my chest. Declan O’Shaughnessy had just admitted he liked the way I smelled while touching my hair.
Again, the thought skittered through my brain.
Oh, indeed.
A bottle shattered in the next aisle over, breaking the spell and snapping me out of my stupor.
“Um, okay,” I said nervously. “I’ll take this one then.”
I tossed it in my cart and studied the shopping list gripped tight in my hand, the ink having turned blurry from my sweaty palms.
“So um, that’s it then,” I stammered. “I should probably check out.”
Declan glanced into his cart and nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ve got everything I came in for too.”
“Alright then, I’m just gonna …”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Okay then.”
Neither of us moved. We remained standing there, staring at each other like fools in the middle of a supermarket aisle.
“One of us should probably go first,” he said on a small chuckle.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agreed, shaking my head.
More silence. More staring.
“Is it just me, or has this become pretty fucking awkward?”
“Ha ha!” I barked out a little too loudly. Then, tempering my volume, I said, “No, it’s not just you.”
Pointing to the cashier to my left, I said, “I’ll take this one and you take that one,” indicating the open lane at the other end of the store.
Ten minutes later when we exited at the same time, Declan let me precede him out the doors.
“I’m over this way,” I said, notching my head to the right.
“Me too,” he answered. “Under the street lamp.”
“Me too,” I said, wondering if he’d recognized my car when he’d pulled up.
“What a coincidence.” He smirked.
“You knew that’s my car, didn’t you?”
“I might have.”
“But you didn’t know I was here? Before?” I slanted my head and tried to read his reaction.
He laughed. “No, how would I have known that?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But we seem to be running into each other an awful lot lately. I still think you might be stalking me.”
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 11