“Which is fucking idiotic,” he continued, “since we’ve known each other since we were in nappies. What am I supposed to do? Pretend I don’t know her?”
Actually, that’s exactly what Declan wanted him to do. When I’d pressed for a reason why, he’d said it was because Eoin was exactly like he’d been at 21 and he didn’t want his sister to get her heart broken when Eoin eventually tossed her aside. He’d also explained there was a strict code of conduct that put sisters off limits. Declan didn’t have any proof that Eoin had crossed that line, but in his opinion, the younger man was treading dangerously close.
“And that’s all you and Aoife are right, just friends?” I asked, more than a little curious about their romantic status.
“Yeah, of course,” he answered quickly.
Almost too quickly.
I smiled knowingly and took a drink of Declan’s abandoned egg nog.
“Then I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” I responded, licking a trace of sweet custardy goodness from my lips. (God I loved egg nog. Why wasn’t it acceptable to drink it all year long?)
“But have you tried explaining that to him?”
He scoffed. “Only like a million different times.”
I eyed him speculatively while he watched the exchange between Aoife and Declan with rapt attention. “Why do you think he doesn’t believe you then?”
He shrugged, never taking his eyes off the pair. And then I noticed that every so often Aoife’s eyes furtively flicked our way as well.
Ah, so it was like that.
Aoife and Eoin might claim to be only friends but I’d bet good money they were well on their way to something more. Declan was a good brother for caring about his sister’s emotional well-being, but if the look of open longing in Eoin’s eyes right now was any indication, he needn’t worry about his intentions. Being so young, they likely wouldn’t work out, but I didn’t think it would be because Eoin tossed Aoife aside. Because the guy sitting next to me right now? He was interested in the pink-haired sprite across the room.
“Excuse me,” he said gruffly, as he stepped away to re-join Aoife.
Shortly thereafter, Declan sidled up next to me. “What do you make of it?”
I slid my eyes to him. “Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or what I really think?”
“The truth,” he grunted.
“Okay then,” I said, taking the bottle of mineral water from his hand and swallowing down a long drink. “I think you’re overreacting.”
He bristled at my feedback. “You don’t know him like I do though.”
“That may be true, but take a look at them,” I said, discreetly notching my chin their way. “I don’t know what’s going on with them, but I guarantee you Eoin cares about your sister.”
He stared at the pair for a few moments, Eoin’s arm wrapped casually around Aoife’s shoulders as she laughed about something he’d said.
“Hmm,” he mused. “Maybe, but you know I’m right.”
“Declan, I know you care about Aoife and you’re just looking after her, but she’s not a baby anymore. You have to let her make her own mistakes so she can learn from them. Eoin might be a friend with benefits—” he made an exaggerated gagging noise “—or he might be the love of her life. The only way she’s going to be able to tell the difference is if you let her live her life on her terms. And if it turns out she gets her heart broken, well, that’s normal too. I recall kissing a few frogs myself in order to find my prince.” I leaned my head against his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist.
He pulled me in close against his warm body and rested his chin on my head. Rubbing his hands over my back, he acknowledged my point. “Yeah, alright. I’ll ease off her. But I’m keeping my eye on Eoin.”
“I imagine you will. Just don’t be a dick to him. There’s a lot riding on your continued friendship. And who knows, maybe you can even be a good influence on him, reformed rake that you are.”
Once my gramps was satisfied his fiddle was properly tuned, he set the instrument aside and stood. Clinking his glass to call the group to attention, the din quieted and he cleared his throat. “We know this isn’t your traditional Christmas Eve dinner, so we’d like to thank ye for choosing to celebrate with us. This has been quite the year for my lovely Maureen and me,” he intoned, patting the area near his heart. “And while I can’t say I enjoyed my time in hospital and recovery, one bright spot did emerge from the ordeal.” He extended his hands, palm up, in my direction. “It brought our lovely Sophie back home to us and for that I couldn’t be more grateful.”
His eyes glassy, he swiped at them and the crowd clapped.
“And thank Christ for that,” Declan murmured as he dropped a kiss on my forehead.
If you would have asked me if Declan was a tactile, touchy-feely sort of guy when I met him, I would have snorted my disbelief but whenever we were close, he seemed compelled to touch me in some small way. And if we were in private? In a not-so-small way. I’d never been with someone who was so open and honest with his affection and I found myself basking in the warmth of his love.
“And while tonight’s dinner is to celebrate this lovely holiday,” my grandpa continued, my grandma joining him at the front of the room and looping her arm through his. “It’s festive for a few other reasons, as well.”
That being my cue, I eased out of Declan’s arms and, his hand in mine, we slipped through the crowd toward my grandparents.
“You’re all so important to us in so many ways,” my gramps said, coughing into his hands to hide the fact that he was choked up. “Many of ye, I’ve known my whole life. Some of ye, I’ve known your whole lives.” Most everyone chuckled because that’s just what life was like in a small village. “And you’ve all supported Fitzgerald’s through the years, made this place feel like our home, not just another pub.”
The group erupted in cheers with hearty choruses of “hear, hear” echoing through the room.
“But it’s time …” he added, his voice breaking. “It’s time …” Unable to continue, he turned away to hide his naked emotion and my grandma stepped in.
“Because you’re so important to us, we wanted you lot to be the first to know that come the new year, we’re turning Fitzgerald’s over to a new owner.”
Gasps of disbelief and groans of outrage ricocheted off the rafters and everyone started chattering at once, speculation rampant over who the new owner might be and what this change would mean for the town’s beloved pub. Declan squeezed my hand and I stepped onto the small stage to join my grandparents. Looking around the space, I was overcome with my own emotion. My life had come full circle. This was never how I’d intended for things to go, but right here, right now, I couldn’t imagine it any other way.
I took a deep breath and then exhaled, long and slow. “Excuse me everyone,” I called out over the din. “Excuse me!”
When no one quieted, Declan came to stand next to me. Whistling loudly, the sound piercing through the noise, he hollered out, “Oi!” Immediately the room fell silent.
I sent him a look of thanks and took a tiny step forward while at the same time, he and my grandparents took a few steps back, leaving me the center of attention.
“Everyone,” I began but faltered.
I’d had a whole speech mapped out, but suddenly the words I’d planned to say seemed stilted and formal. This wasn’t some presentation I was giving at a travel conference. These were, as my grandpa had said, people he and my grandma had known their whole lives. They were the faces of the people who’d be in my life forever now as well.
“First, I want to thank you all for how welcome you’ve made me feel these past couple of months. I know I’m a bit of an outsider—”
“You’re a Fitzgerald!” someone shouted from the back of the room which was greeted with murmurs of agreement.
“Thank you, and yes, I am.” I smiled and glanced around, making eye contact with as many people as I could manage in a few, quick sec
onds. “Which is why I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear that I’m the new owner of Fitzgerald’s.”
When a collective gasp went up—this time in surprised delight—the crowd clapped and cheered and the next thing I knew, I was enveloped in a series of hugs and bestowed more kisses and back pats than I’d ever had before. Amidst all this, I sent a covert glance Declan’s way. Technically, I wasn’t the sole new owner but we’d decided to keep the loan he’d given me a secret from everyone, including my grandparents.
I’d been able to convince my Grandparents Newport to give me a sizable advance on my trust to cover the majority of the costs when I’d presented them with a business plan for a revamped pub that included turning the upstairs area into a series of guest rooms. My grandfather had surprised me when after our formal FaceTime meeting he’d called me back and told me how proud he was to see me turning into a business-minded young lady. With his stuffy, traditional ways, I’d always thought he believed a woman’s job was to support her husband’s endeavors, but to hear him now, he was more proud of me than he’d ever been before. He’d transferred the money into my bank account that very same night.
And Declan’s involvement? Well, after repeatedly telling him I wouldn’t accept a dime of his money, he’d loaned me €75,000—with interest (that was my stipulation for accepting). He hated I wouldn’t accept the cash as a gift—going so far as to tell me I should consider it payment for all the times my grandpa had stepped in and talked some sense into him—but any way you sliced it, I just wasn’t comfortable taking it with without a contract for repayment.
With the exception of a small shut down for two weeks in late January to take care of a kitchen update and other necessary repairs in the downstairs area, the pub would stay open while Cian’s uncle’s company would gut and remodel the upstairs into the new guest rooms. Once everything was done, I planned to host a party for the community to re-christen the space as Fitzgerald’s Inn and Pub.
And the absolute best part of this whole plan was that with the profit my Grandparents Fitzgerald made from selling to me, they’d already put down a deposit on a small, tidy cottage two kilometers up the road. My grandpa would get to stay a permanent fixture behind the beautiful copper bar he’d tended for decades, while my grandma, god love her, insisted on staying in the kitchen. I’d tried to get her to retire indefinitely but she’d explained she loved cooking for people and it gave her something to do with her time. In the end, we’d agreed she’d cook the lunch meal, but she was definitely going into semi-retirement.
In fact, I already had a new cook lined up for the evening meal who specialized in gastropub fare and I thought the combination of the traditional Irish pub food my grandma cooked during the day, paired with his high-end meals at night, would be a great update that would keep our regulars happy while driving new clientele. And yes, I was putting in the beer garden out back come summer, in hopes of luring the seaside day trippers who came down this way on the train.
Once everything was done to my liking, the plan was for my friend who worked at a paper in London to come for visit and write an article about the revitalized Ballycurra, espousing it as the lovely new weekend getaway. Between the new manor house hotel and golf course, the upscale restaurants in town, and a remodeled Fitzgerald’s, we had quite the adorable little destination on our hands. I might even be able to get my mom out for a visit.
“Come with me,” Declan whispered. “I want to give you your Christmas present.”
With the party in full swing, I didn’t think we’d be missed if we snuck away for a bit. “Yeah,” I said. “Upstairs?”
“Nope,” he smiled conspiratorially. “Just come with me,” he repeated, taking my hand and leading me to the coat rack by the door.
Shrugging me into my jacket, Declan reached around and pulled my hair out from under the collar. When I finished wrapping my scarf around my neck, he kissed my nose, opened the door, and ushered me outside, his palm resting against the flat of my back. The second we stepped over the threshold, I was assaulted by the cold, my breath turning into moist clouds as we raced to his Range Rover.
“Quick, turn on the heat!” I exclaimed, bouncing to try and get warm while I waited for the seat heater to kick in.
Declan flipped the ignition while I turned the knobs to full blast and we slid onto the road. A few minutes later we parked at the end of a dirt lane that led down to a hidden cove along the shore. The only lights visible were the softly glowing numbers on the dash.
I swiveled in my seat, pressing my back against the door, and smiled at Declan. “I believe you mentioned something about a present?”
Reaching around, he pulled a small, festive bag from behind his seat. “Before I give you your gift, I just want you to know this is the best Christmas ever. You’re the best gift ever.” His eyes held mine steadily. “And I’m so thankful you decided to take a chance on me Sophie.”
“Hush,” I said, leaning forward and planting my palm on his knee. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Eyes twinkling, he asked, “If you could travel back in time and tell Little Sophie Newport she was going to someday fall in love with Declan the Turd, what do you think she’d have said?”
His use of the nickname I’d given him back then brought a laugh to my lips. “How’d you know that’s what I used to call you?”
“Your grandda, who else?”
I sighed mock-exaggeratedly. “Colm Fitzgerald and his meddling ways.”
“I dunno,” he answered. “I think it worked out pretty well.”
I stared at him for a few beats, admiring his masculine beauty. Yes, he was gorgeous, but I also knew underneath that lovely exterior was a good heart that belonged to a good man.
“Yeah, it did,” I agreed.
“Since you insisted on no big gifts …” He dangled the small bag by his fingers.
“Your gift is back in my room. I can give it to you when you take me back … or maybe tomorrow?”
We’d agreed to spend Christmas Eve together, but hadn’t said a word about Christmas Day.
“Yeah, I’ll get it tomorrow,” he answered, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. “Christmas Day with Sophie Newport,” he chuckled wonderingly. “Who would have thought?”
Who would have thought, indeed?
His bringing up our history in this context had me even more excited about his gift than I’d been before. I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait until tomorrow to give it to him.
Rummaging around in my grandparents’ drawers to help them pack, I’d stumbled on a roll of film from when I’d lived with them before. Curious to see what was on it, I’d sent it off to be developed. Even after all these years the film had turned out to be in pretty good shape, with only a handful of the prints showing signs of film degradation. Most of the photos were of random things around the pub, some being extreme close-ups of unidentifiable people or objects, but toward the end of the roll there’d been a couple from the school’s Christmas pageant my first year in Ballycurra.
In the very last one, standing next to each other in the front row were Declan and me. I don’t know when the photo had been snapped, but it captured Declan and I glowering at each other. Well, one of us was glowering at least. Hands shoved confidently in his pockets, he wore a wicked grin on his face while my arms were crossed over my middle and a scowl turned down my lips. It pretty much exemplified those early years between us and now that we were past them, I could laugh. I’d loved the picture so much I’d had it cropped and enlarged into a 5x7 that I’d had framed. All told, I’d spent under $50, which had been the limit I’d given him.
(I’d also gotten him a different present—a pair of red velvet-lined handcuffs—that I planned on giving him the next time I stayed over at his place.)
“I hope you like it,” he said nervously, discreetly slipping a small cylinder from the bag and placing it in his coat pocket before handing me the parcel.
I rifled through snowflake tissue p
aper to find a small rectangle box at the bottom. Pulling it out, I untied the delicate red bow and dragged the top off, revealing a brass key. Confused, I raised my eyes to Declan. “My own key to your place?”
My stomach fluttered with happy butterflies. I had a toothbrush and some basic toiletries at Declan’s, plus he’d recently cleaned out a drawer for me and made some space in his closet, but a key to his house was a pretty big deal. Obviously I thought we’d get to that point in the not-too-distant future, but I hadn’t wanted to let myself hope for it quite so soon.
“Not just a key, Soph,” he said, clearing his throat. “I know you’re going to look at a few apartments next week, but I want you to move in with me instead.” His gaze held mine as an expectant silence settled over the car and I absorbed his words.
My mind immediately started forming a pros and cons list while my heart begged me to say yes. When my stomach clenched with longing and tears formed at the corner of my eyes, I realized I wasn’t scared to take this next step, but rather was thrilled and happy and jubilant at the idea of living with him.
“Yes!” I said, jumping across the center console and planting a kiss on his lips.
Smack, smack, smack.
He laughed happily and threw his arms around me as I straddled his lap and we engaged in a longer, deeper kiss. When we broke apart, Declan wrapped his hand around the nape of my neck as his eyes flicked between mine for several long seconds. His other hand caressed the rise of my hip and down, blazing a slow, seductive trail along my thigh. With each sweeping pass, he moved closer and closer to the apex of my thighs.
“I can’t wait to have you in my bed every night,” he rumbled as he pulled me in for another kiss and settled his hand between my legs. Massaging me through the fabric of my leggings, he whispered against my lips, “And I can’t wait to wake up to your gorgeous fucking pussy every single morning.”
The feel of his hand rubbing against me paired with his dirty words made me burn for him. My nipples pebbled under my sweater and my sex grew moist when I rocked my hips against his hand, desperate for more friction.
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 38