Page 7 of Beer & Broomsticks
“Throw a lid on them. You’ve got time to tell me what happened.”
“That fecking arse kissed me,” she mumbled and hid behind the act of drinking her coffee.
Roisin’s grin caused acid to churn in Bridget’s belly. Sure, and her family all wanted her to find a mate, to be as happy as they all were, and they’d be chuffed as could be if that man was Ruairí, whom they all liked and respected. But Bridget was reticent, and she couldn’t quite say why.
“What do you intend to do about it?”
Trust her best friend to go straight for the heart of the matter.
Bridget looked out the window toward his home. No lights burned this early, and she imagined he was fast asleep in his bed.A bed she wouldn’t mind occupying with him, taunted the little voice inside her head. The man had learned technique in the intervening years since they’d been a couple. It stood to reason that skill would spill over into lovemaking. Had he kissed her like that when they were younger, she’d probably have forgiven him a lot quicker or maybe eloped like he’d begged her to do.
With a firm shake of her head to dispel the torrid thoughts brewing, she retrieved the platter of eggs. “Nothing. I intend to do nothing.”
Bridget had to give Roisin credit for holding her comments. The compressed lips were a dead giveaway that she wanted to have a hearty go at changing Bridget’s mind. After another few minutes of working side by side to set the table, Roisin gave into the urge.
“Have you ever thought about moving away? Of going somewhere else where you might meet another man you could fall in love with instead of remaining here, tangled up in conflicting feelings for Ruairí?” she asked gently.
Bridget couldn’t take exception. Roisin was the sister of her heart and her sister-in-law by fact of marriage to Carrick. Their shared business interests kept them firmly entrenched in each other’s lives. Unable to answer right away, Bridget spent an extra minute or two straightening the cutlery next to the plates.
“You have,” Roisin guessed. “What’s stopping you? This place? Carrick and I could run it, and Cian can manage the pub with Piper’s help. Sure, and I bet Dubheasa would return if you asked her. She’d be able to work remotely for a while. You could take your share and go.”
Tears blurred Bridget’s vision, and she rapidly blinked. “I know, but it’s not as simple as all that, Ro.” Her friend’s compassionate look was too much to bear, and Bridget busied herself retrieving the remainder of the morning’s breakfast.
“As long as you live here, you’ll weigh every man you meet against Ruairí. They’ll come up wanting.”
“You think Ishouldleave?” Fear of the future unfurled in her chest. The pub and inn were all she’d ever known. Her responsibilities had never allowed for her to escape this narrow world. Never allowed her to venture out other than the occasional coven meetings GiGi Thorne-Gillespie hosted eons ago. “I don’t know what I’d do,” Bridget confessed.
“Between all of us, we could come up with the money for you to start anew. Or we’d ask Eoin. You know he’d not say no. Look, you could go anywhere onÉireor in the world. Enjoy your life.”
The idea had merit, but Bridget loved her family, and she wouldn’t hide from Ruairí. Not then, and certainly not now. She shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, but this is my home. He’ll not run me out of it.”
“Oh, Bridg, I just want you to be happy.”
“I’m notunhappy.” She shrugged and arranged the place settings on the table. They had five guests through the weekend, not counting the Buchanans, and they’d receive the best hospitality the Black Cat Inn had to offer. Bridget prided herself with how she managed her bed & breakfast. “Perhaps a fine man, one perfect for me, will sail through the door someday soon.” She forced a teasing grin.
Before Roisin could answer, the backdoor opened and Ruairí entered.
A shiver ran the length of Bridget’s spine. It was as if the Fates had anticipated her words and sent him in at that precise moment.
“What areyoudoin’ here?” she asked with a fierce scowl, irritated that the Fates were such fickle creatures. She noticed the duffel bag in his hand. “And what do you think you’re doing withthat?”
“The pump’s gone out at my place, and I’ve no water.” Dropping the bag by the door, he approached her. “I need a place to stay, and I’ve decided to stay at the Black Cat.”
Ruairí O’Connor under the same roof as her? Not in this bleedin’ lifetime! She wasn’t functioning well as it was with him filling in at the pub. If he was constantly underfoot, she could kiss her sanity goodbye. “Forget it. Find another place or use your stolen magic to fix it, why don’t you.”
“Bridg…” His tone was wheedling, and damned if she wasn’t tempted to set aside her grievances.
“No! We’ll not be sharing a bed, and that’s final!”
Roisin gasped, and Ruairí grinned.
“I’d not said anything about a bed,mo ghrá. But now I know where your head’s at, and I have to say I like it.”
“My head is not in the bedroom,” she denied hotly, color flaming in her cheeks.
“Sure, and it’s okay if you tell everyone that. You and I know the truth.” The scut had the nerve to wink.
“I swear Ruairí O’Connor, I will gut you like a fish if you even think about setting one foot in my room. You’ll stay across the hall in your own room, and that’s final.”
