Love and Mistletoe

by Zara Keane

  “Well, well,” Sharon teased. “I thought you were above resorting to bribery, Garda Glenn.”

  His gaze roved her naughty witch ensemble. “Cute outfit, but you’re going to need a warm coat for where we’re going.”

  “I’m intrigued.” She grabbed her coat from a hook beneath the counter and turned to her brother. “See you, bro. Have fun rescuing glasses from Marcella’s costume.”

  “Oy,” her sister said. “Don’t be so cheeky. It took a lot of time and effort to look this bad.”

  Ruairí winked at Sharon. “I’ll safeguard the glasses. Have a nice evening.”

  “I intend to have a nice night.” Sharon whacked Brian on the behind. “Right, Garda Glenn?”

  His wicked grin sent a tingle down her spine. “Let’s see how enthusiastic you are when you see where we’re going.”

  Chapter Eight

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Brian pulled into his designated parking space outside Ballybeg Garda Station. It was lashing rain outside, causing rivulets of water to cascade down the windshield. He cast an impish grin at his passenger. “What do you think of our secret destination?”

  Sharon let out a hoot of laughter. “What’s this? Are you arresting me again?”

  “Nope. Impromptu Halloween party.”

  He climbed out of the car and held the passenger door open for her. “Mind the puddle. The car park is riddled with pot holes.”

  Inside the station, buckets had been placed at strategic intervals to catch water dripping from the numerous leaks in the roof. The two reserve policemen on duty had made a halfhearted attempt to decorate the lobby. Between the leaks and the damp in the walls, they didn’t need to make much effort to turn the place into a house of horrors.

  Sharon surveyed the mess. “This place is a total sinkhole. It’s worse every time I’m here.”

  “I know. Thankfully, this is a good-bye-and-good-riddance party.”

  Her step faltered. “You’re… leaving?”

  “Yeah. Finally.” He steered her in the direction of the station’s tiny recreation room, past the leering stare of the older reserve garda. “I can’t wait to get out of this dump.”

  “I see,” her tone was subdued, her body language stiff, her heavily made-up face crumpled.

  Wait, she doesn’t think… “Sharon, no.” They were outside his office, so he pulled her inside and shut the door. “I’m not leaving Ballybeg.”

  She stared at him through fake spidery eyelashes. “You’re not?”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t slip in something that important as a conversational aside.”

  Uncertainty clouded her eyes until she blinked it away and reverted to her customary bravado. “Then what did you mean?”

  “The station is moving. The superintendent called us this afternoon to say the force is finally making good on the promise they made five years ago. This building will be razed and a new one constructed in its place. We’ll be in prefabs for a while. Hardly ideal, but better than needing an umbrella in my office.”

  “Oh. Right.” Her tinny laugh rang false.

  How had they gone from joking and flirting one second to emotion-laden awkwardness the next? And how come loud and brassy Sharon MacCarthy was ten times less confident than his own bashful self?

  He dropped a kiss on the tiny spider she’d painted on her nose. “Was it a mistake to bring you here? I did it on impulse. Thought it might give us both a laugh, considering all the times I’ve brought you to the station under different circumstances.”

  She emitted a small snort. “No, I get the joke. But when I assumed you were leaving Ballybeg… I guess I’m surprised by how much the idea upset me.”

  He cupped her chin in his hands. “Am I moving too fast for you? If so, I’m sorry. I haven’t done casual in the past. I don’t think I know how.”

  “You’re not moving too fast, Brian. Truth be told, I’ve never been happier.” Her tentative tone made his heart skip a beat. “Being able to talk to a man is weird, though. My Da… well, he’s not exactly the warm fuzzy type. I love my brothers, but our relationship is based on teasing and fighting. Until I started going out with you, I saved all my emotional stuff for the women in my life.”

  He grinned down at her. “Let’s just say the women in my life left me with no choice but to learn to express my emotions and listen to them express theirs. I grew up with three sisters, a mother, several aunts, and loads of girl cousins. Dad and I didn’t stand a chance.”

  “How did they feel about you joining the police?”

  “Not happy, but I needed to strike out on my own. I love them to bits, and I enjoy visiting, but they’d suffocate me if I lived there. My mother refuses to believe I can actually work a washing machine.”

  “Apart from Ruairí, my brothers genuinely can’t work a washer. They expected Ma to do their laundry.”

  “And now they expect you to do it?”

  She grimaced. “Spot on.” She leaned in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re not leaving Ballybeg.”

  He stroked her wild blond hair and bent down for another kiss. “The only place I want to be is where you are. Now what about a dance?”

  She tugged on his hand. “Lead on.”

  The decorations in the recreation room were more lavish than those in the lobby. It was also the one room in the small police station building that sported only two leaks. Ballybeg Garda Station was relatively small and was responsible for the town of Ballybeg and several nearby villages. In addition to a superintendent who oversaw Ballybeg and two other stations, there were two full-time policemen (Brian and Seán), four reservists, and one part-time receptionist-cum-secretary. McGarry and Doyle were on duty tonight, and everyone else was swaying on the makeshift dance floor.

  Brian and Sharon’s entrance earned them a few stares: Some friendly, some wary, and—in O’Shaughnessy’s case, some downright hostile. Brian put his arm around Sharon’s waist. Screw anyone who objected to her being his date tonight.

  Seán was manning the punch bowl. He ladled orange liquid into two plastic cups and shoved them across the counter. “Here you go.”

  Brian sniffed his cup. “Jaysus. What concoction is this?

  “Pumpkin punch,” Seán said. “Or so I’ve been informed. Tastes like vodka and orange juice with a few spices thrown in.”

  Sharon took a cautious sip. “Ugh. Vile.”

  Brian’s own taste test brought him to the same conclusion.

  “They should have waited for you to make cocktails,” she said.

  “Maybe.” He dumped his cup beside her discarded one and coaxed her onto the dance floor. “But then I’d be on barman duty all evening, and I wouldn’t get to dance with you.”

  A boppy chart-topper blasted through the speakers. Brian and Sharon twirled around with more enthusiasm than grace.

  Three fast-paced tunes were followed by a slow song. They were enjoying a slow dance when Brian felt a blow between his shoulder blades.

  “Well, would ye look what the cat dragged in.” O’Shaughnessy leered at them through bloodshot eyes. If appearances were anything to go by, the retired police officer had liberally partaken of the pumpkin punch.

  “Mind your manners.” Brian heard the steely edge to his voice. “Sharon is my guest tonight, and I’ll have her treated with respect.”

  O’Shaughnessy took another swig from his plastic cup, spilling most of the drink down his creased shirt. He jabbed a fat finger into Brian’s chest. “I spent my career arresting her father. The whole family is bent. You watch yourself, Glenn. Once she’s had her laugh dating a policeman, she’ll dump you for one of the lowlifes she usually lies down with.”

  Sharon was mad enough to emit sparks. “Piss off. I remember you barging into our house and beating the shite out of my father before cautioning him. Da is no saint, but neither are you.”

  O’Shaughnessy leaned close enough for them to smell the stale cigarettes on his breath. “You’re nothing but a little tart. I don’t care what sort o
f fancy course you’re doing at university. You’ll end up in the ditch like the rest of your family.”

  Having had prior experience with Sharon’s temper when confronted with a belligerent police officer, Brian picked her up and swung her out of the line of fire. O’Shaughnessy, drunk though he was, had survival instinct. The old man lumbered to the side, clutching his crotch protectively.

  “That prick,” she snarled, struggling wildly to get free. “He deserves a good kick to the bollocks.”

  “Sharon,” Brian cautioned, not letting her go. “We’re in a police station, and he’s a former police officer. However justified you feel in physically attacking him, it’s not going to happen. Not on my watch.”

  “She’s out of control,” the older man muttered. “I’m only saying what everyone else thinks.”

  “No,” Brian snapped, “you’re saying what you think. Yeah, she has a temper, but you’re behaving like a boor.”

  “Well, now,” O’Shaughnessy sneered, “Fancy that. The young pup is developing claws.”

  “Go home, man. You’re drunk and obnoxious.”

  Seán appeared at O’Shaughnessy’s side. “Come on, you old eejit. Let’s get you home. Brian’s right. You’ve had a few too many.”

  The old man gripped Seán’s hand as though it were a lifeline. “Ah, you were always a good lad, Johnny. I remember the time you—”

  Seán’s face registered alarm. “Right,” he said with forced jollity, “I’ll get this fella home. Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Brian and Sharon gawped after the police sergeant hauling the by-now-limpid older officer out of the building.

  “Johnny?” Sharon drew the name out, overemphasizing each syllable. “Seán’s name is Johnny?”

  “News to me.” Brian squinted into the distance, thoughts tumbling through his mind. “I’m wondering how he knows O’Shaughnessy. Usually, the old fella rolls in for the Christmas party. Seán didn’t start working here until February of this year.”

  “Hunh.” Sharon gave a facial shrug. “Well, never mind about them. Why don’t you and I skedaddle? The punch is crap, and I’m in the mood for one of your killer cocktails. Plus,” she ran a hand down the satin shirt of his glam rock vampire costume, “I want to see what your fangs can do.”

  He dropped a dramatic kiss on her wrist, relishing the feel of her pulse quickening under his lips. “Your wish is my command.”

  Chapter Nine

  THE NEXT FEW WEEKS PASSED IN A BLUR. Between work, university, and Brian, Sharon succeeded in avoiding the farm—and her father—as much as possible. A few people in Ballybeg still threw her and Brian quizzical looks, but for the most part, they were left in peace.

  On the Wednesday before the Christmas bazaar, Sharon was on a high after sitting the last exam of the semester. She and Brian had handed in their joint research paper on Monday, and she had a giddy feeling they’d nailed it.

  Naomi was sitting at one of the tables in the small café in the Book Mark, sipping a cappuccino while Bridie and Sharon gift-wrapped a mountain of books.

  She and Naomi had practiced making their wares and had a nice stockpile of divine-smelling bath products to sell on Saturday.

  “I still can’t believe you’re going out with Brian Glenn.” Naomi shook her head in wonder, making her beads jangle. “It’s been, what, six weeks? That must be a record for you.”

  “More like nine.” Sharon added a red bow to the book she was wrapping and reached for the scissors. “He’s a man, I’m a woman. We like each other. End of story.” More than liked. She was in serious danger of falling in love with Brian Glenn. Assuming she wasn’t already…

  “Because he’s a cop and you’re…” Naomi trailed off, meeting Sharon’s hard stare.

  “A MacCarthy?” Sharon ripped the edge of the scissors against the ribbon to make it curl. “Oh, for feck’s sake. Ruairí’s a MacCarthy too, and no one ever assumes he’s up to anything dodgy. I’m sick of people judging me because my father’s an arse and my eldest brother is in prison. It’s not fair. The rest of us aren’t in trouble with the police.”

  “Not anymore, you mean,” Naomi added with a grin, making Bridie snort with laughter.

  “Fine.” Sharon threw her arms up in a gesture of admission. “So I haven’t always taken the law very seriously. But I’m older now and wiser and more aware of the consequences.”

  “Careful you don’t turn into a paragon of virtue,” Bridie said with a chuckle. “We wouldn’t recognize you.”

  “I don’t think I want to be friends with a paragon of anything,” Naomi added with a shudder.

  Sharon gave a bark of laughter. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”

  Her friend drained her cup and brought it to the counter. “What’s the Batcave like?” she asked. “You were always keen to get a look inside.”

  “It’s nice. He’s into colorful deco and comfy furniture. I wasn’t expecting that. I was sure he’d go for the minimalist look.”

  “I can’t see you living in a minimalist environment,” Naomi said slyly.

  “Hey, Nomes. Don’t jump the gun. We’ve only started going out. I’m not planning to move in with him yet.”

  “Ah, just wait. I predict a proposal under the mistletoe.”

  “Don’t be daft. I don’t want to get married at my age, and Brian’s only twenty-five.”

  “Well, a kiss, then,” Naomi amended. “At least one of us will see some action under the mistletoe this festive season… unless Bridie’s planning to ambush the Major at the Christmas bazaar.”

  “I don’t need to ambush him,” Bridie said primly, “because I already have. I told him I was making an honest man out of him this New Year, and Major Johnson had the good sense to agree.”

  “What?” Sharon clapped in delight and let out a whoop. “You’re marrying the Major? That’s wonderful news.”

  An amused smirk lurked on Bridie’s lips. “He and Jasper need looking after. I figure I’m the woman for the job.”

  “Jasper?” Naomi glanced at Sharon for guidance.

  “The Major’s Cavalier King Charles spaniel.” Sharon stepped forward and gave her boss a hug. “I’m thrilled for you, Bridie. Congratulations.”

  “You’re both invited to the reception, of course,” her boss said. “New Year’s Eve at Clonmore Castle Hotel. Olivia is marrying Jonas on the same day, so we thought we’d make it a double celebration.”

  “I’ll definitely be there.” Sharon whipped a bottle of champagne out of the small fridge beneath the counter. “I think this calls for a toast. Just as well I picked up a bottle of bubbly on my way home from Cork.”

  “Don’t you want to save that to have with Brian?” Bridie asked.

  “He’ll understand, especially when I tell him the occasion.”

  Bridie gave a sly smirk. “I’m assuming he’ll be your plus-one to the wedding.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Sharon poured the dancing liquid into teacups and handed them to the other women.

  “Classy,” said Naomi with a grin.

  “Hey, I have a reputation to live down to. I can’t let a soon-to-be university degree and a steady boyfriend totally cramp my style.” She raised her cup. “Sláinte, ladies. Here’s to new relationships and new beginnings.”

  “Have you no decent man on the horizon?” Bridie asked Naomi as she stacked the beautifully wrapped Christmas gift packages on a display table.

  “No man at all, decent or otherwise.” Naomi wrinkled her nose. “Men either find me exotic—how I loathe that description—or they don’t want to go out with a black girl.”

  “Idiots,” Bridie said. “All of them. You put us pale white women to shame with your gorgeous skin tone.”

  “Plus no one in Ireland can tell the difference between black and mixed race. If you have any bit of different in you, that’s the part people focus on.”

  “Don’t mind them, Nomes.” Sharon reached across to give her a hug. “You
need a man with discernment. Unfortunately they’re few and far between—especially in Ballybeg. I think Bridie and I nabbed the only two.”

  “Right, girls. I’m off to the hairdresser.” Bridie drained her cup of bubbly and retrieved her handbag from under the counter. “You’ll be all right to close up on your own, Sharon?”

  “No problem.” Sharon grinned at her employer. “What color are you going for this time?”

  “I’m thinking of a red rinse for the festive season,” Bridie said expansively. “Gavin and Fiona are bringing Wiggly Poo round for Christmas dinner. After last year’s fiasco, I don’t want to risk getting a tree, so I figured I’d better decorate myself.”

  Sharon was still laughing when her boss left the shop. “Okay,” she said, turning to her friend. “What’s up with you today, Naomi? You’ve been hovering for the past thirty minutes as if you want to talk to me about something.”

  Her friend grimaced. “You don’t miss a trick.”

  “Nope. And if you want a chat, now’s your chance. A customer could arrive at any moment.”

  “Right.” Naomi hesitated and drew in a deep breath. “It’s about us renting the flat upstairs.”

  “Yeah?” A sense of foreboding made Sharon’s stomach churn.

  “My sister keeps saying she can pull a few strings and get me a job at her company in Dublin.”

  Sharon blinked, then released an internal sigh. “And you want to take her up on the offer. If you have any sense, you will.”

  “I promised you we’d get a flat together.” Naomi fiddled with one of her dangly earrings. “I don’t want to let you down.”

  “So that’s why you’ve been in an odd mood lately.” Sharon moved forward to touch her friend’s arm. “Seriously, Naomi. Do you really think I’d hold you back from the chance of a fresh start?”

  “No, that’s just it.” Naomi bit her lip. “I knew you’d encourage me to take her up on the offer. If I do, where does that leave you? You can’t afford to rent the flat upstairs on your own, and I don’t want you taking on extra hours in your final year in an effort to escape your father.”