The Funny Thing about Love: Feel Good Sweet Romance stories

by Laura Burton

  Because she was happy with her little pink building.

  She’d found something that felt like home. Somewhere that she walked into and felt happy.

  He couldn’t remember ever taking real pleasure in any of his properties.

  They were valuable. Expensive. Decorated by the best designers in the world with the best furnishings.

  But they were all just bricks and mortar. Soulless, even.

  “And you’ll be happy here forever? In Dunkilly?”

  “I think so,” she said. “I mean, there are so many places in the world that I’d love to see. But the people here need me. Gran needs me. And even if I travelled, I’d always come back. My heart belongs here. Everyone has that one place, don’t they? The one that no matter where life takes them, they always want to come back to. Come home to. That’s Dunkilly for me.”

  Conor could only stare at her.

  He was sure she had no idea how beautiful she was when she talked about her beloved town.

  Her eyes sparkled, and a tiny smile played around her lips.

  He’d never been more grateful for a truce in his entire life.

  “You know, the castle is a big part of that for me.” She turned to gaze at him. “And Gran’s cottage. I know its’s just a crumbling pile of bricks, but to me it’s so much more than that. I grew up with it. I even had my first kiss by that wall over there.” She nodded her head toward what would have been a wall of the Great Hall.”

  “Did you now? And who was the lucky boy?”

  “Michael Donohue. It was awful,” she laughed. “But at least it had a nice setting.”

  “Hmm. My first kiss was at the back of the toilets in a public swimming pool, and I had no idea what I was doing,” he said with mock disgust as she laughed. “Shelly Evans. She stalked me for the rest of that summer wanting a do over. It hadn’t been romantic enough, clearly. I had to go to boarding school to get away from her.”

  She was properly laughing now, and Conor couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying making her laugh.

  Or how attractive he found it.

  “That was your mistake then.” She grinned. “You should have had a castle as your background. That would have been plenty romantic.”

  “Maybe I should have,” he whispered.

  And before he could question his sanity, he leaned over and captured her lips with his own.

  Jenna froze as Conor leaned forward and kissed her.

  Conor King, ridiculously handsome billionaire. Kissing her.

  And kissing her at the castle that he was going to destroy.

  She should move away.

  She should get in her car and get as far away from him as possible.

  But she didn’t.

  No, what she did was kiss him right back.

  The kiss burned red-hot, and it didn’t take long for her to first unfreeze and then melt completely.

  Of course, he would be good at kissing.

  Not just good. Great. Fantastic! Earth-shattering.

  He lifted his hand to disappear into her hair and tilt her head, taking complete control.

  And she was more than happy to let him.

  He plunged his tongue inside her mouth, and Jenna couldn’t contain a soft moan at the feel of it dancing with her own.

  She hadn’t been kissed like this in years. Maybe ever. Her head was spinning, her heart was racing, and her limbs felt like they were made of putty.

  She lifted her arms to wrap around his neck and –

  Jenna gasped in shock as the mug of wine she’d forgotten she was holding landed firmly in her lap.

  She sprang away from Conor and jumped to her feet, barely noticing him do the same thing.

  “Are you alright?”

  His breathing sounded as heaving as hers.

  She rubbed uselessly at the wine covering her jeans, refusing to meet his eyes, refusing to even speak to him.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  She’d kissed him. Kissed him.

  Without uttering another word, or even glancing in his direction, she turned tail and ran into her tent, zipping it closed and throwing herself onto the blow-up mattress, which was a lot less satisfactory than throwing herself onto a proper, king-sized mattress but would do in a pinch.

  “Jenna?”

  Oh no. No, no, no. He had to go away so she could die of mortification in peace.

  “Go away,” she shouted, her voice muffled by the sleeping bag she was currently trying to suffocate herself with.

  “Jenna – I think we should talk about this.”

  She buried her face even further, holding her breath and waiting.

  Finally, he sighed loudly enough for her to hear it.

  “Fine. We can discuss it tomorrow. Goodnight.”

  Chapter 11

  Alright, she couldn’t stay in here forever.

  Realistically she knew that.

  Checking her phone again, she groaned out loud and threw in a couple of swear words that Gran would box her ears for.

  She hadn’t slept a wink until the sky was already growing bright outside the tent.

  And even then, she’d tossed and turned, dreaming of Conor Bloody King.

  And it was no mean fete – tossing and turning on a tiny inflatable mattress.

  She would have happily stayed hidden in here forever, but Gran had said she’d bring over some breakfast and more importantly, coffee at ten. And it was nearly that now.

  Jenna crawled over to the opening, unzipped it slightly, and peeked out.

  There was no sign of Conor. Which was great, considering she was in her flamingo pyjamas and could only imagine what he’d have to say about them.

  Could it be that he’d given up and left?

  Unzipping the rest of the opening, she climbed out and stretched her arms over her head, nearly cracking her jaw with the size of her yawn.

  Looking over to her right, she was both disappointed and not that his tent was still there. But when she looked to her left, his car was gone, and she was disappointed and not all over again.

  What on earth had he done to her?

  Reaching back into the tent, Jenna pulled on a hoody before taking out her toiletry bag. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair into a ponytail.

  Splashing the rest of the bottled water onto her face, she dried it with a towel, feeling slightly more human when she was done.

  Listening closely for signs of stray American billionaires, she was relieved to hear nothing but the squawking of the gulls and the crash of the waves on the rocks below the cliffs.

  The sky was dull and overcast today, and she just knew it was going to rain to add to her misery.

  She scrambled down to her car, intending to sneak off home to use the bathroom and shower.

  It wasn’t something she’d risk if he was around, in case he snuck in some builders or built a blockade to keep her out or something.

  But since there was no sign of him –

  “Good morning.”

  Jenna screamed and spun around to see Conor standing there grinning at her.

  “Where’s your car?” she demanded with a frown.

  “I parked it around the front,” he said, holding up his hands. He was holding two coffee cups in a container in one hand, and a paper bag in the other. “Nice jammies, by the way. I thought you might like breakfast.”

  “You – I –” She stammered for a bit, feeling more awkward than she ever had in her life. “My granny is bringing me breakfast,” she finally settled on and then could have kicked herself for how lame that sounded.

  “Well, now you can call her and tell her she doesn’t have to,” he answered smoothly, holding out a cup to her.

  Jenna knew that the best thing to do would be to ignore him and drive off.

  But – well, coffee.

  She reached out and took the cup from him, shivering slightly when her fingers brushed his.

  A memory of those same fingers caressing her scalp as he kissed her se
nseless sprang into her mind.

  Well, that sort of thing would have to stop.

  Taking a sip of the coffee, she sighed with pleasure.

  “Did you get this from Kate’s place?” she asked, more to fill the silence than anything else.

  “Sure did,” he answered lightly, giving no impression that he was affected by last night’s events. He probably did stuff like that all the time.

  Went around kissing unsuspecting females who were just trying to save a castle.

  “She told me exactly how you take it.”

  Jenna stared up at him.

  “Wait, you told her about us being here? Together?”

  He shrugged. Shrugged. As if the news wouldn’t spread around the village before she took her next sip.

  “Well, yeah,” he said. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

  “Of course, it’s a big deal,” she blurted. “We’re enemies! I’m here to fight you for the castle. I can’t be seen to be having coffee and – and fraternising with you!”

  “Fraternising?” he repeated with an annoying grin on his stupid, gorgeous face. “What would they do if they knew what we’d been up to last night, hmm?”

  Jenna’s jaw dropped at his audacity, her mortification growing to fever pitch.

  “You didn’t – “

  “Good morning!”

  Once again, Jenna got the fright of her life as she turned to see Gran walking up the hill from the direction of her cottage, a basket in her arm.

  And behind her was Martin, laden down with bags under both arms and a rucksack half the size of him on his back.

  Could the morning get any more farcical? She hadn’t even gotten to a bathroom yet.

  “Hi, Gran,” Jenna called grumpily. “Hi, Martin.”

  Gran and Martin came to stop in front of Jenna and Conor, matching curious expressions on their faces.

  “Morning, love.” Gran handed over the basket but kept her eyes on Conor. “And who might this be?”

  Sending her eyes heavenwards, Jenna pasted a bright smile on her face.

  “This is Conor King, Gran,” she said. And then, an imp of mischief awoke. “He’s the one who wants to ruin the castle and run you out of your home. Mr. King, Eileen McCarthy. The elderly lady whose house you want to bulldoze.”

  She stood with a smug grin, waiting for Conor to show some sign of embarrassment.

  But as she watched, he stepped forward and took Gran’s hand, his smile charming and downright beautiful.

  “Mrs. McCarthy, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m sorry it’s taken this long. But let me assure you, your granddaughter has explained how important your home is to you, and I’m very happy to withdraw my offer on it. I feel confident that we’ll find a way not to intrude on your life in any way.”

  Jenna watched in horror as Gran giggled, giggled and batted her lashes up at Conor.

  “Oh, you’re too kind, Mr. King,” she beamed. “And there’s plenty in that basket that I’m sure Jenna won’t mind sharing.”

  Too kind? Too kind?

  Jenna glared at her turncoat gran, not quite believing what she was seeing.

  Before she could open her mouth, however, Martin piped up. Martin, who she’d forgotten about. Martin, who she hadn’t even bothered to introduce.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?” He scowled.

  Conor looked down at him like he was a pile of sheep dung.

  “I was. But I’m not. I had a feeling Jenna would follow through on her threats to protest, and I wanted to be here. Mostly to see what she’d do, to be fair.”

  It was Jenna’s turn to scowl at him, but he seemed as unbothered by hers as he was by Martin’s.

  “But it’s Sunday,” Martin argued. “So, why are you here now?”

  Conor quirked his lips in a way that made Jenna want to kiss them, so she averted her gaze immediately.

  Her gaze could not be trusted.

  “Because Jenna is,” he answered smoothy.

  Her heart, it seemed, was as untrustworthy as her gaze.

  Because even though she knew he only meant that he didn’t trust her alone, it still thumped like he’d declared his undying love for her.

  “Well, I’d best be getting back to the cottage. I’ve to finish Mrs. Rafferty’s picture, and you know how she gets if I’m late,” Gran said.

  “Gran,” Jenna whispered fiercely as the two men eyed each other. If they started measuring things, she was leaving. “Why aren’t you giving him an earful? He’s trying to ruin things, remember?”

  “Of course, I remember,” Gran said. “But you didn’t tell me he was such a fine specimen of a man, Jenna. And the way he’s looking at you, well – probably best not to make an enemy of him just yet.”

  Before Jenna could scoff or give out some more, Gran kissed Jenna’s cheek and then turned and kissed Conor’s for goodness sake, before waving in Martin’s general direction and toddling away like the traitor that she was.

  “Jenna, I’m just going to go set up camp beside you,” Martin wheezed as he staggered toward the tents with his multiple burdens.

  “He’s staying?”

  Jenna looked up to see Conor frowning at Martin’s unsteady gait up the hill.

  “Yes, he’s staying,” she answered mutinously. “And tomorrow, there could be loads more.”

  “Jenna, can we talk alone?”

  “That depends. Are you cancelling the building work scheduled for tomorrow?” she asked. “Are you giving me my week?”

  He stared at her, some emotion she couldn’t identify darkening his eyes.

  But then he shook his head as if to clear it.

  “No, I’m not,” he said but weirdly, he didn’t sound all that happy about it.

  “Then, no, we can’t talk. We have nothing to talk about.”

  She turned to shout up to Martin that she’d be back in thirty minutes then got in her car and drove away.

  It was stupid to hope that he’d change his mind just because they’d kissed once.

  More than stupid. Absolutely crazy.

  She needed a shower and some space from Conor King, in case she did something really crazy, like fall for him.

  Chapter 12

  “Are you sure you’re warm enough?”

  Jenna gritted her teeth and counted to ten before she turned to answer Martin. Again.

  “I’m fine, honestly.”

  She sipped on her coffee and ignored the smirks coming from Conor, who sat on the other side of her.

  The three of them had been sitting like this for eons. Well, thirty minutes. But it felt like eons.

  When Jenna had come back from her shower that morning, she’d used Martin as a buffer between her and Conor for the whole day. She knew it. Conor knew it. Only Martin didn’t seem to know it.

  He’d relished the opportunity to tell her all about his work which, as it turned out, was more boring than watching paint dry.

  She hadn’t changed her mind about him. He really was a very nice man. But in the way her dentist was nice. Pleasant enough, but not someone she really wanted to let near her mouth.

  Speaking of her mouth…

  She looked over at Conor again because she couldn’t help it. Just like she couldn’t help reliving that kiss over and over.

  It was very annoying. Almost more annoying than listening to Martin.

  Almost.

  Conor looked up then from his phone and winked at her, as if he knew she was sitting there fantasising about him, and it made her so angry that she jumped to her feet, cutting off Martin’s extremely detailed description of a species of frog he’d helped protect last year.

  “I’m just – ah, going to the car,” she blurted.

  She didn’t need anything in her car. She didn’t need anything but space from the billionaire blonde.

  “Let me go for you,” Martin jumped to his own feet.

  “No, that’s alright. I just need – ah – my rain jacket.”

  T
hat was a complete lie since she was currently sitting in her jacket.

  “Rain jacket. Got it!”

  Before she could stop him, he was off. And she could only watch as he bolted toward the car.

  And when he tripped.

  And when he tumbled down the hillside with a fairly feminine scream.

  Jenna stood frozen in horror until Conor brushed past her toward where Martin had disappeared.

  Spurred into action, she caught up to him just as Conor was lifting the smaller man to his feet.

  “Martin, are you ok?” She skidded to a halt.

  He looked fine, she saw with relief.

  No broken bones that she could make out.

  He was leaning pretty heavily on Conor though, which concerned Jenna greatly. Not only because he must be hurt, but also because she couldn’t help noticing the size of Conor’s muscles as he held up Martin’s weight.

  What was he doing wearing just a tight white t-shirt and jeans anyway? Didn’t he know he was in Ireland? He’d freeze to death.

  Well, it’d serve him right.

  “My ankle is a bit – a bit twisted, I think.”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Martin.”

  Guilt twisted her stomach. This was all her fault. He was just trying to be nice to her and because she’d been running scared from Conor, he’d twisted his ankle.

  “I’ll be fine once I take the weight off it.” He smiled wanly.

  “You need to keep your weight off it,” Conor interjected. “And you can’t do that in a tent. Let me take you back to your hotel.”

  “No, no. I won’t leave Jenna alone out here with you.”

  Jenna was quite touched, but she couldn’t let him stay out here with an injury. Tempting though it might be.

  “I’ll be fine, Martin. Honestly. You need to get that looked at and stay off it. But I’ll take you to Dr. Fitzgerald.”

  “And how are you going to hold his weight?” Conor asked.

  He was right, but she didn’t want him to be, so she scowled at him the entire time he helped an objecting and actually quite ungrateful Martin into his car.

  And as she stood there watching Martin struggle into the bucket seat of the fancy sports car, as she listened to him extoll the virtue of an environmentally friendly car over a monstrosity like Conor’s, the truth hit her square between the eyes, and in the chest, too, for good measure.