Page 5 of Beer & Broomsticks
“I’ve loved her from the first.”
She hugged him again. How could she not?
He was beautiful outside, but inside, he was just as stunning. Quentin had never met a stranger and was quick to go out of his way for those he cared about. Case in point, a few years back, he’d helped his wife’s aunt save her abducted husband and remove a dangerous enemy from the Thorne’s playing field without any thought to his own life or possible punishment by the Witches’ Council.
The top of the cooler thunked shut, and by the sound of it, cardboard was being pulverized by Ruairí’s bare hands.
Bridget didn’t turn around.
“Not that it’s not my greatest pleasure, to be sure, but what are you doing here, Quentin?”
He gestured over his shoulder to the woman standing just inside the door. Bridget had failed to notice her in all the excitement of seeing her old friend. “I thought I’d bring my wife on a little vacation.”
“Oh!” Bridget rushed to Holly. “Sure, and it’s lovely to see you again.”
Holly handed off the toddler she’d been holding to her husband and clasped Bridget’s hands in hers. “You, too. It feels like it’s been forever, and we wanted to introduce you to Francesca.”
Quentin began blowing raspberries on his daughter’s neck, eliciting breathless giggles from the child. The sound was the sweetest Bridget had ever heard, and it made her heart ache. She’d always wanted a child of her own. The odds were great against it happening this late in life.
“I’m assuming you’re staying with us? Was Carrick at the Black Cat to see you settled?”
“He was,” Holly said.
“He told us you were here and sent us to get a pint,” Quentin added.
“Well I, for one, am glad you decided to visit.” Bridget faced Holly again. “Would you care for a bite to eat or is it just a bit of Granny O’Malley’s brew?”
“I’d love both.” Quentin swung his daughter behind his back to hang sideways between his arms. The child’s peals of laughter echoed in the enclosed space. “If you don’t mind.”
When Bridget turned toward the bar, Ruairí’s face was void of the thundercloud he’d been sporting minutes before, and he was now all smiles.
Smug plonker.
She almost wished Holly hadn’t come so she could irritate him further with Quentin’s flirty presence.
“Welcome.” Ruairí’s dancing blue eyes locked on Bridget. “Any friend of Bridget’s is a friend of mine. Isn’t that right,mo ghrá?
She bared her teeth, barely managing to smother a growl.
Ruairí had almost bittenoff his own tongue when the god-like creature walked in the door. Sure, he fancied himself a good-looking bloke, but the other man was the stuff of women’s fantasies, and there was no way on this green earth Ruairí could compete with the likes ofhim.
Only for Bridget would he have tried.
Then Holly had entered with their small daughter, and Ruairí was able to feel solid ground under his feet again.
Quentin was a natural-born charmer, with eyes able to assess and provide what a woman desired at a single glance, but it had only taken one look to see the man’s world revolved around Holly and Frankie, as the toddler was introduced.
Even more delightful was the fact Bridget lost her buffer against him, and Ruairí couldn’t be more thrilled. He knew full well she’d planned to use Quentin to keep him at a distance the second the other guy walked through the door. Intent lurked in the calculating gleam of her eye when she’d checked for Ruairí’s whereabouts over her shoulder after she hugged the man. Her disappointment had been keen, but only to someone who knew her well.
Ruairí wasn’t going to let her run this time. He’d told her true by the gate earlier today; they weren’t getting any younger. Seventeen years was long enough to dance around their feelings. Either she gave him a second chance, or he needed to leave for good. No longer could he live next to her, catching glimpses of her bright ginger head and her mouth-watering body without going mad. He wasn’t into self-torture.
After he’d poured a pint, he passed it to Quentin with an attempt at a friendly smile. Forgiving the man for doing what Ruairí couldn’t and bringing the sparkle back to Bridget’s face, even for a brief time, was difficult.
Quentin’s dark laughing gaze flicked to Bridget then back to him.
The fecker had the nerve to wink!
Ruairí leaned in under the guise of wiping the counter. “Making time with another man’s woman is not a way to make friends in these parts.”
