Shadow Spell (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy 2)
“It’s best to resist the eavesdropping.”
She gave him an elbow poke and a knowing look out of dark chocolate eyes. “I know good and well you’ve had a listen when you’re wondering if a girl might be willing if you bought her a pint and walked her home.”
“That may have been the case before I reached my maturity.”
She laughed her wonderful laugh. “You’ve not hooked fingers around your maturity as yet.”
“I’m within centimeters now. Ah, and here’s Boyle answering already. Iona’s at the cottage practicing with Branna. He’ll drag Fin with him shortly—and see if Iona will do the same with Branna.”
“I like when it’s all of us together. It’s family.”
He heard the wistfulness, swung an arm over her shoulders. “It’s family,” he agreed, “right and true.”
“Do you miss your parents since they’ve settled down in Kerry?”
“I do sometimes, yes, but they’re so bleeding happy there on the lake, running their B and B, and with Ma’s sisters all chirping about. And they’re mad about the FaceTime. Who’d’ve thought it? So we see them, and know what’s what.”
He gave her shoulder a rub as they walked the winding road to Cong. “And truth be told, I’m glad enough they’re tucked away south for now.”
“And here I’d be more than glad to have my mother tucked away most anywhere, and not for unselfish reasons such as your own.”
“You’ll get through it. It’s but another phase.”
“Another phase that’s lasted near fifteen years. But you’re right.” She wiggled her shoulders as if shaking off a small weight. “You’re right. I put a bug in her ear today about how she might enjoy a long visit with my sister and the grandchildren. And that’s shoving the same bug straight up Maureen’s arse, which she well deserves. If that doesn’t stick, I’m planning to bounce her from brother to sister to brother in hopes she lands somewhere that contents her.
“I’m not giving up my flat.”
“You’d go stark raving if you moved back in with your ma, and what good would that do either of you? Donal’s done well by her, no question of it, but so have you. You give her your time, your ear, help with her marketing. You pay her rent.”
He only lifted his eyebrows when she jerked away, narrowed her eyes.
“Be sane, Meara. Fin’s her landlord, how would I not know? I’m saying you’re a good daughter, and have nothing to feel selfish over.”
“Wishing her elsewhere seems selfish, but I can’t stop wishing it. And Fin doesn’t charge half what that little cottage is worth.”
“It’s family,” he said, and she sighed.
“How many times can you be right on one walk to the pub?” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her work jacket. “And that’s enough bitching and carping from me for the same amount of time. I’m spoiling my own good day at work, and the extra fifty in my pocket.”
They passed the old abbey where tourists still wandered, snapping photos. “People always tell you things. Why is that?”
“Maybe I like hearing things.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s because you listen, whether you want to hear it or not. I
too often just tune it all out.”
He stuck his hand in her pocket to give hers a squeeze. “Together we probably come average on the graph of human nature.”
No, she thought. No, indeed. Connor O’Dwyer would never be average on any graph.
Then she let the worries and wondering go, walked with him into the warmth and clatter of the pub.
It was Connor who was greeted first by those who knew them—which was most. A cheery call, a flirtatious smile, a quick salute. He was the sort always welcome, and always at home where his feet were planted.
Good, easy qualities, she supposed, and something else she envied.
“You get us a table,” he told her, “and I’ll stand the first round.”