The drive to her rental doesn’t take long. It’s an apartment in downtown Seattle that she’s likely paying an arm and a leg for.
“I hope you can get out of your contract without losing a bunch of money,” I say as I follow her down a hallway to her unit.
“I originally only rented it for the week,” she says with a shrug. “I asked the owner if I could stay awhile, and she agreed, but I just cancelled the reservation on the way over. It should be fine.”
She wasn’t lying earlier. Most of her things are still in the unzipped suitcases lying on the floor. She gathers her toiletries from the bathroom, and in less than ten minutes, we’re in my SUV headed for the ferry.
“I’ve never been on a ferry before,” she says as I park on the boat and motion for her to stay put until I circle the hood and open her door. She lets me take her hand as I lead her out of the vehicle, and I don’t drop it when we walk to the observation deck.
“You’ll get some amazing views of the Sound,” I inform her and lean against the railing. She lets go of my hand, and I want to snatch it back immediately, but I just smile at her. “Do you enjoy the ocean?”
“Never been,” she says again and takes a deep breath. “It’s salty.”
“You’ve never been to the ocean?” I ask with surprise. “Ever?”
“I’m not exactly what you’d call a traveler,” she says with a shrug. “I’ve been diagnosed as slightly agoraphobic, but I think I just like to stay home. I’m obviously not paralyzed with fear.”
“My family is from a small village by the sea in Ireland, and my parents moved us to the island because it reminded Da of home. I’ve always been near the water. Maggie says I’m moody like the sea.”
“Moody is a good word for it,” Lexi says with a laugh. “I just chalked it up to being a writer. I’m moody, as well. Temperamental. I mean, I bought two hundred dollars’ worth of blankets and pillows just because it feels nice. So, yeah, temperamental artist is my middle name.”
“I think my whole family has moments of moodiness, truth be told.” I point off into the distance where a spray of water shoots into the air. “A whale.”
“Oh God, a whale? Are we safe?”
“You’re on a large vessel, Lexi. It can’t jump up and snatch you off the deck.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know that, would I?”
Another spray goes up.
“It’s getting closer,” she says.
“I believe there’s more than one.”
Her startled eyes whip up to mine. “How many are there?”
I laugh and tuck a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. “I have no idea. Could be a mama and her baby.”
“Oh, right. Because whales have babies.” She visibly swallows and grips the railing so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t snap under her grasp. “Can we make a noise or something to make them go away?”
“Most people like to see them.”
“Oh. Why?”
“They’re not exactly great white sharks, Lexi. They’re only dangerous to seals and stuff. I don’t think they’ve eaten any humans lately.”
She nods and swallows hard when another plume of water shoots into the air about a hundred yards from the ferry.
“Is this the only way on or off the island?”
“It’s the shortest route, but it’s not the only way.”
Her eyes whip to mine again. “You mean we could have driven?”
“It would have taken several hours,” I say, trying to reason with her. “This ride is only an hour, tops.”
She nods but doesn’t seem reassured.
“Are you afraid of the water?”
“Of course, not.” She firms her lips and raises her chin almost defiantly. “Like you said, I’m on a big boat. No need to be scared.”
She’s quiet for the rest of the journey, and much to my relief, we don’t see any more whales. When we’re given the signal, we return to my SUV, and I drive us off the boat and back onto dry land.
Lexi visibly sighs in relief next to me.
“What did you think?”
“It wasn’t bad.”
“You hated it.”
She smiles but shrugs a shoulder. “It wasn’t bad,” she repeats.
I drive to the other side of the small island and turn into my driveway. “I bought this place last year when my sister, Maeve, told me it was for sale. She’s a realtor here on the island. The previous owner passed away, and with no family, it went back to the bank. I got it for a spectacular deal. I had parts of it updated, but it’s the view that stole my heart.”
I park the car and jump out, excited to show Lexi the inside of my home.
“I’ll come back for your things,” I say as she steps out of the vehicle. “Let’s go inside. I’ll give you a tour.”
“Thank you.”
The house isn’t enormous. At just over two thousand square feet, it’s modest but has plenty of space for me.
“The kitchen is brand new,” I inform her. “I love to cook, so I needed an updated space.”
“I like that it flows into the living space, and we can see the ocean from here.”
“It didn’t used to be this way,” I reply. “There used to be a wall here, but I tore it out. My room is over there, to the right. The guest rooms are upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you.”
She follows me up, and I can already see a difference in how she’s holding herself. She looks almost relaxed.
“Oh, this is lovely,” she says as she sits on the side of the queen bed in the guest room. “I love all of the colors. And this vase is divine.”
She points to a teal and yellow glass piece beside the bed.
“My brother made it.”
“He made it?”
“Yes. Kane O’Callaghan.”
She blinks at me and then looks at the vase. “Your brother is the famous glass sculptor?”
“One and the same. Your bathroom is through here. All of the linens are new and washed. No one’s used them yet.”
When I turn around, Lexi is standing at the big picture window, staring out at the ocean.
“This is a good place, Shawn.”
“It is, yes.”
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Thanks for coming along,” I reply. “Feel free to settle in. I’ll bring your bags up. And I’ll have dinner ready by six. Then, we’re going to the pub.”
“We’re going to a pub? Tonight?”
“That’s right. It’s Friday, and Keegan can probably use my help. If you’d rather not go, you’re welcome to stay here, but you’ll have much more fun at the pub.” I wink at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk you into it.”
Chapter 3
~Lexi~
I’ve seen places like this in movies, but I always assumed they were just the product of a writer’s overactive imagination. Or they existed in Europe somewhere. Maybe a small village in Ireland or Scotland. It never occurred to me that loud, lively pubs like O’Callaghan’s Pub existed in real life.
But here I am, sitting on a barstool at the end of a long, mahogany bar, watching in fascination as a man who looks very much like Shawn pulls beers from the taps and laughs at something an older customer says.
I couldn’t tell you for sure what that might have been, given how thick the Irish accent is on the older man. But it seems it was quite funny.
“So, you’re the lass working on the movie with Shawn,” Keegan says. I was introduced to several of Shawn’s siblings as soon as we arrived. Keegan owns the bar and works it, as well. I see Maggie swinging through the crowd with a loaded tray of drinks and food, and Shawn is in the kitchen, helping to serve up dinner orders.
Which leaves me out here alone with Keegan.
“That’s right,” I reply. I have to speak loudly to be heard over the loud, live band playing on the tiny stage in the corner. They’re playing Celtic music, complete with a fiddle, piano, and what looks like an accordion.
Suddenly, Maggie ju
mps onto the stage and sings several verses of the lively song, laughing and dancing and giving the crowd a thrill.
Maggie is a beautiful woman. I’d say she’s in her mid-twenties, with gorgeous auburn hair and the same green eyes as Shawn. In fact, Keegan’s eyes are green, as well, but his dark hair matches his brothers’.
“How are you getting on then?” Keegan asks.
“With what?”
“The movie writing, of course.” He sees that my wine glass is almost empty and immediately reaches for the bottle, filling it up again.
“Oh, it’s going slowly, I’m afraid.”
“And why would that be?”
I could sit here for days on end and listen to Keegan O’Callaghan speak. His accent is the thickest of the siblings I’ve met, and just like when Shawn’s shines through, it makes my belly clench deliciously.
“It could be because your brother is a stubborn mule.”
“And just like that, I find you telling lies to my very own brother.”
I turn at the sound of Shawn’s voice, and find him smiling down at me. The lilt in his voice is heavier this evening, probably because we’re here among others who sound the same.
Dear God, he’s something to look at. Lucifer himself couldn’t hold a candle to Shawn O’Callaghan with all that thick, dark hair, square jaw, and green eyes. And it’s completely unfair how black his eyelashes are.
I shrug.
“There have been days that Shawn’s been a stubborn one, and that’s the truth of it,” Keegan says. “Are you hungry, Lexi?”
“Oh, no. Shawn made dinner before we came tonight.” Shawn wasn’t kidding when he said he enjoyed cooking. He made grilled salmon with some kind of fancy rice and asparagus that just melted in my mouth.
And I’m not particularly fond of the green stalks.
“Next time, don’t fill your belly before you arrive, and we’ll feed you some proper Irish food.” Keegan winks and then moves down the bar to wait on other customers.
The music has slowed, and Maggie now croons a ballad about boys going to war and the girls who pine for them at home.
Suddenly, Shawn tugs me off the stool and sweeps me into his arms, dancing me around the bar.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” I say, trying to keep up with him.
“Seems that you are,” he says. “All you have to do is move with me.”
“I’m clumsy.”
“You’re quite lovely,” he replies, and I’m not sure what to say to that. “Even when you’re calling me a stubborn ass.”
“I said mule.”
“Same difference.” He moves effortlessly. His big body is graceful as he guides me around the floor. “I liked seeing you at the bar.”
“I’m completely out of my element here.”
His lips twitch with a half-smile. “I can see that. But you’ll get used to it. No one means anyone harm here. It’s a happy, lively crowd, and one I enjoy being around on an evening now and again.”
I can’t help myself. I let my fingers slip into the hair at the back of his neck. It’s soft, running like silk over my skin.
“It’s quite different from the quiet at your house when you’re working.”
“You’re absolutely right. I can’t be alone in the silence all the damn time. A person could go crazy.”
I frown and glance over his shoulder to watch Maggie lean in and share a microphone with another man as they sing in harmony.
“I spend most of my time alone in the silence,” I murmur. “I quite prefer it.”
“You need people eventually.” He turns his head, and his lips graze my temple, sending shockwaves down my spine and straight to my core as if his lips carry electric currents.
I’ve never been so frustrated by a man and yet want to climb him so badly in all of my life.
The slow song ends, and just as I’m about to return to the bar, Shawn catches my elbow and swings me around into a fast-paced dance. If I had time to think, I’d be mortified. Instead, all I can do is try to keep up with him and not fall on my face.
He spins and twirls me about, singing loudly along with the song.
It seems Maggie isn’t the only one with pipes in the family.
And as quickly as it began, the song ends, and I’m in Shawn’s arms, panting and laughing and staring up into his happy face.
He leans closer, and I swear he’s going to kiss me.
Right here.
In front of all these people.
But before his lips have a chance to meet mine, Keegan calls out from behind the bar.
“Shawn, these food orders aren’t going to fill themselves, mate.”
“Bloody arse,” Shawn mutters before setting me back on my stool. “I’ll be back out in a bit.”
He hurries through the door to the kitchen. I take a deep breath and stare down at my glass of wine as the pub continues swirling around me, the patrons singing and dancing and laughing.
I’ve been in Shawn O’Callaghan’s arms twice in one day. And he’s taken me by surprise with it both times. How’s a woman supposed to breathe around him?
“Finally, I can take a quick moment to say hello properly.” Maggie smiles as she stands next to me. She slips a foot out of her shoe and starts digging her thumb into the arch. “I bought these new shoes, but they’re killing me. Supposed to be for people on their feet all day, but I call bullshit on that one.”
I blink down at the shoe on the floor and then back at Maggie. “Before I was able to write professionally, I was a nurse. I can send you a list of good shoes to try.”
“I’d love that,” Maggie replies. “So, you were a nurse?”
“A very long time ago. It’s been at least ten years since I worked with patients.”
She smiles as she switches feet to rub. “I want to hear all about it sometime. For now, I have to get through about six more hours of these torture devices. Maybe I should go barefoot.”
I stare at the floor dubiously. “With all of the spilled drinks and food? You don’t want to get botulism or something.”
“You have a point. Keegan, I need two pints of Guinness, a shot of Jameson, and a margarita.”
Keegan scowls. “I don’t make margaritas.”
“I know. I told them that, but they insisted I try. Probably a tourist.” She shrugs. “Give them a shot of tequila instead. While you fill that, I need to place an order with Shawn.”
She hurries away, and I watch Keegan as he pulls the taps and starts to build a Guinness. I didn’t know it was described as building a Guinness until this evening.
I’m storing all of this information up for a future book. It’s too interesting.
“Do many murders take place amongst the Irish?” I ask Keegan, who raises a brow.
“Are you planning to kill him, then? What’ll it take to get you to wait until this evening is over? I don’t have anyone on hand to fill in in the kitchen.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, I’m wondering because I might like to write a thriller with an Irish foundation.”
“Would you now? Well, of course there’s murder to be had when humans are involved. Maybe a man wandered from his marital bed. Or a lad got tied up with the Irish mafia—which is a thing, by the way. There are all kinds of possibilities. Or, you could take the story in another direction.”
“What kind of direction is that?”
“Well, the land of Ireland is full of legends. Ghosts, the Tuatha de Danann—what you’d call faeries. You name it.”
“Are you suggesting I write a story with a paranormal twist?”
“Why not? It would be a story I’d read, I’ll tell you that.” Keegan winks at me as he finishes loading Maggie’s tray, just as she bustles out of the kitchen with two bowls of stew.
“That smells amazing.”
“It’s my mother’s recipe,” Maggie says. “She used to make it every day for the pub when she and Da still owned the place. Now, I make it instead. But the recipe is the same. I’ll fetch
you some.”
“I ate already.”
“You danced and have been here for a couple of hours. A little bowl of stew won’t hurt you,” Maggie says, talking me right into it.
“Do you mind if I go back and see Shawn?” I ask.
“Not at all,” Keegan says, pointing to the door. “Help yourself. Be at home here, Lexi. And I mean that.”
“Thank you.”
Shawn’s family is so kind. So welcoming. I’m enjoying myself more than I have since I arrived in Seattle a week ago.
I push through the door to the kitchen and see Shawn wiping his hands on his apron. He reaches for a ladle and scoops some stew into a bowl, then lowers a basket of fries into some hot grease.
“How did you get roped into this?”
His head turns in surprise at my voice, and then he smiles when he sees that it’s me. He reaches for a chair and sets it near a clear space at the counter, gesturing for me to sit and keep him company.
“Keegan fired his cook yesterday. Which means he’s shorthanded back here until he finds a replacement.”
“I had no idea you knew how to man the kitchen in a bar.”
“I can also make the drinks, deliver them, and clean up when everyone’s gone,” he says as he gets to work building a sandwich. “I grew up in this pub.”
“Maggie mentioned your parents owned it.”
“They did. When we first arrived in America, all of us lived in the small apartment above us. Keegan lives up there now, and it’s almost too small for him. But my parents were poor, and they did what they could with what they had. Eventually, the pub did well enough for Da to buy a house not far from here, and we moved there. But all of us worked here in the pub, and most of us still do from time to time when Keegan needs us. Maggie’s been working here full-time since her piece of shit husband died a few months ago.”
I gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. She looks so young.”
“She is. Barely twenty-six. She married just out of high school. He was a philandering, controlling jerk. Had a heart attack while with his side piece.”
“That’s just horrible.”
He nods and gestures to the pot of simmering stew. “Would you like some?”
Imagine With Me: A With Me In Seattle Novel Page 3
