Foolish Temptations

by Danielle Stewart

  “What are these?”

  “Journals. Old ones.”

  “Who did they belong to?”

  “All different people who lived here in Gallamare. Can’t get a better story than a true one.”

  “And I can buy one of these?” The promise the leather bound books held gave Maribel a rush of excitement most people wouldn’t waste on something so simple. But she agreed with Aileen, there was hardly any work of fiction that could capture the angst and joy of real life.

  “No. But you can borrow one. Help yourself.”

  “Which one should I take?”

  “The one that speaks to you.” Aileen said it as though it were the most obvious selection process. And maybe it was.

  Maribel rifled through them for a few moments and then pulled out the tattered brown journal with a Celtic cross embossed on the front. “This one.”

  “Ah yes. That’s the one.” Aileen pointed to the chair in the corner of the room and gestured for her to sit. “Kenan will be a bit. He likes to pick his produce carefully. Have ya eaten? Are you hungry?”

  Maribel felt like the polite option would be to tell Aileen she was all set. It didn’t feel right to ask for any more than she’d already gotten. She’d stumbled in here only as an effort to run from Aden. Now she had a special book to read and the promise of a handsome tour guide. “I can wait until I get to the hotel to eat.”

  Aileen picked up the old corded landline on her desk. “It’s me. Bring by some food will you?” That was it. She promptly hung up. No niceties. No specific food she wanted. It was all laughably intriguing.

  Maribel took a seat in the corner and cracked open the journal as though she was revving the engine on a time machine. And she was. These were the words of someone who had come before. Judging by the date in the first entry, it was over sixty years old. Was the author still alive? Did they move from the area? Her heart was thudding wildly with anticipation. Hardly anyone would understand the joy Maribel had found in books and how this opportunity was the next level.

  Aden would.

  They’d talked all about it at length. She even gave him a few of the books she loved most, and surprisingly he read them with enthusiasm. Then they had more to talk about and dissect. Some books brought arguments. Some brought lust. Some books brought an awakening. As she remembered their little two-person book club, her heart ached. It was all over now.

  Before she could dive into the first entry, the door to the bookshop swung open and a teenage boy charged through with a basket under his arm. “Where ya want it?”

  Aileen answered with a pat on the desk in front of her. The boy placed the basket down and hustled back to the street without another word.

  “Come eat, lass.” Aileen began unpacking the basket and making a plate for her. This quaint moment was already exceeding Maribel’s expectations for her first hour here. Her mind wandered to Aden. Was he sitting alone in the hotel? Was he worried about where she ran off to?

  After they laughed and snacked and laughed some more Maribel’s thoughts returned to Aden. She glanced out the bookstore window and looked up the hill to see if she could catch sight of anyone who resembled him. Instead she saw Kenan with his arms full of grocery bags. He was a nice enough looking guy. A cheerful skip in his step. Yet she was looking past him, still searching for a glimpse of Aden. Apparently it was going to take a bit more time to shake the draw she felt for him. But surely this week, this place, maybe even this man coming her way with an arm full of groceries could help distract her.

  Chapter 5

  Aden

  * * *

  “Another pint?” The bartender in the lobby of the inn was nice enough, but Aden was too distracted to answer. His eyes were fixed on the door, waiting for Maribel to finally walk through. He hadn’t checked in yet, worried he’d miss her. Regardless of how they’d parted, he felt a sense of responsibility to her. A constant pull in her direction. But he hadn’t heard a thing from her since she’d run off an hour ago.

  The bartender placed another pint of beer in front of him even though he hadn’t ordered it. But it was welcomed.

  “You waiting on someone?” The bartender who’d introduced himself as Mick looked intrigued. Aden had tended bar long enough to relate to that curiosity. The shifts were long and redundant. When someone interesting bellied up to the bar, it was practically a sport to figure them out.

  “I’m waiting for a woman.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Mick laughed and wiped down the bar with the rag he pulled off his shoulder. “They don’t always show up though.”

  Aden’s great uncles and grandmother all spoke with this familiar Irish accent and there was something nostalgic that warmed him. They’d never returned to Ireland, and he never had an opportunity to go before now. He knew a few locations hours north that would have some meaning to his family. But there wouldn’t be time. Hugo gave him a job. Between that and trying to keep an eye on Maribel, he’d be too busy.

  He kept his eyes on the door and finally saw Maribel. Relief flooded him as he watched an easy smile spread across her face. Was she smiling at him? He got his answer when a man, his arms loaded with groceries, strode in with her as though they were old friends.

  “Maribel,” Aden called, spinning off his stool and stepping into their path, “have you checked in?”

  “Not yet.” She blinked her long lashes at him, and her smile melted away. “This is Kenan; he’s a chef here.”

  “Cook,” the man corrected as if Aden gave a shit. “Kenan Connor.” He tipped his head as a friendly greeting, but that did nothing to keep Aden from wanting to punch him in the face. What was he doing walking around like he had some sort of claim to Maribel?

  “Aden Murphey.” Kenan adjusted the bags and offered his hand. Aden clamped down tightly for their handshake.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute, Maribel?”

  “I didn’t realize you were traveling with someone.” Kenan furrowed his thick brows, looking disappointed.

  “He’s a colleague. An associate.” Maribel stiffened her back and gave Aden a sideways look.

  “We need to talk.” Aden put a hand on the small of her back and guided her to a quiet corner in the lobby. It was an elegant place with rich woods and long tapestry drapes. Dark and cozy like an unexpected rainy day when you have nothing to do but relax.

  “You look ridiculous.” Maribel glared at him. “You need to check in to your room and bug off.”

  “I don’t care. You’ve been here less than an hour, and you’re ready to go off with some stranger. If this is to get back at me, you can stop now.”

  “Conceited much?”

  “I’m sorry for what happened. That night you caught me off guard. We should talk about it instead of acting like nothing happened.”

  “Some things don’t require conversation. I told you how I felt, and you jumped from a moving vehicle to get away from me. That speaks for itself.”

  “I didn’t jump from a moving vehicle.” Aden rolled his eyes as though this was a huge exaggeration. It wasn’t.

  “The cab was not stopped. I opened up to you and you bolted. You practically ran out of your sneakers to get out of there. That told me everything I needed to know. I don’t need to answer to someone who doesn’t care about me.”

  That was a cut too deep. “I care about you. We spent all those late nights working, talking. You know more about me than anyone I’ve talked to in a long time. You act like that didn’t mean anything, like it never happened. It was something.”

  “And how crazy of me to think it meant more than two people in close proximity to each other. How stupid of me to think we were more than coworkers.”

  Aden shook his head, completely stumped. It would take a hell of a lot to be able to explain what had happened that night. More than he knew how to give. “You can’t roam around a foreign country with some stranger because you’re mad at me.”

  “You read books. I know you do because I gave them to you. Thi
s is what women do. They take their broken hearts and travel the world. They meet men and indulge in the local flavor. They do whatever they need to do to feel better. And the men who did the damage don’t get to tell them what to do.”

  “Broken heart?” Aden felt the sting of her words like a slap to his cheek. She wasn’t exaggerating about that night. He was always cool under pressure, but not when it came to matters of the heart. His exit was less than graceful. It wasn’t that he was a dick, it was more that he was usually smart enough not to let it get that far. But with Maribel it had been so easy. Their conversations flowed. Their jokes always hit the mark. He should have seen it coming and found a way to head it off. But he didn’t want it to end.

  “Aden please drop this. I’m here for a week. So are you. We both have work to do, and maybe we can salvage a little fun too. Separately.” She tucked her hair back and looked at him in that desperate way only she could. “I need this.”

  “Just be careful. Small towns like this make you think you can drop your guard. You can’t.”

  “Trust me, my guard is up. I won’t be making that mistake again.” Her eyes met his and he winced at the pain he’d inflicted. The best thing he could do for her was give her space and pretend this wasn’t killing him. The problem was that pretending had gotten him into this mess in the first place. If he was being real he’d tell her he didn’t jump from that car because he didn’t care; he jumped because he was afraid to care too damn much.

  Chapter 6

  Maribel

  * * *

  Kenan showed Maribel to his kitchen and beamed with pride. The Garden Pavilion Inn was beautiful, like something out of a magazine. Though a little dated, it only added to the charm. She watched as Kenan popped an apron over his head and got to work.

  There was something damn hot about a man who could cook. Maribel forced herself to focus on this moment. The now. Not the regret she thought she might have seen in Aden’s eyes.

  “So your friend who’s getting married, she thinks she wants to do it here in Gallamare?” Kenan looked surprised by the idea that anyone from the States would come here for a destination wedding. “We normally see folks picking Dublin for their Irish weddings. We have weddings for more local couples.”

  “The bride and groom want me looking far and wide.” One thing Maribel had learned from working her way up the ladder at West Oil was you never shared more information than you had to. A huge company with billions on the line every day required a certain level of discretion and trust. These people were not only her employers but her friends. They were busy as hell trying to launch a product that could help dramatically reduce the destruction caused by an oil spill. The least she could do was help plan a wedding that would make Junie’s dreams come true. And she could be discrete about it.

  “This place is certainly far. We’re just a little fishing town. But this hotel is equipped for events. We have about one a month. Up to three hundred guests.” Kenan washed his hands and then dusted the large steel table with flour. He had a way with his hands, an art to the way he moved. As he grabbed a mound of dough from a large steel bowl and started kneading it, she was mesmerized.

  “The grounds are beautiful. I’m sure the food is exceptional as well. I’ll be reporting back after this week with a recommendation. Maybe you could show me some of the perks of this venue?”

  Kenan lit with excitement. “We have a wedding here tomorrow. Want to sample some of their dishes?” He brushed the flour off his hands and waited for her answer.

  “If you don’t mind.” Maribel blushed at the attention.

  “Feeding a beautiful woman my food is my favorite pastime. But you just ate?”

  “A bit with your aunt. More of a snack.”

  “I want you starving.” He looked intensely into her eyes. “Let’s work up an appetite.” He extended his hand and she hesitated. Whatever he had in mind, she already knew she’d turn him down. No way was she taking him up to her room. She was the kind of girl who poured her heart out to a man in the back of a cab but not the kind of girl who’d shack up with a stranger after only a few hours. Her visions of this trip and a mysterious man were a little more PG-13.

  “I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression about me,” Maribel said apologetically. “I’m anxious to sample your food and very grateful your aunt asked you to show me around. I don’t think we should rush off somewhere to work up an appetite.” She put air quotes around her words and hoped that motion was universally understood.

  “Maribel”—Kenan shook his head as though he was disappointed—“I only want to walk the grounds together.” He extended his hand again and this time she took it. Kenan was smooth. He had this devilish grin that had a hint of being disingenuous. But for a week, a quick trip that would end in a goodbye anyway, did it really matter?

  “I should see the grounds if this is the best location in town for the wedding.” They walked out the back of the kitchen and down a winding path. The green was richer and more vibrant than any she’d seen in her life. Cliché as it was, Ireland, this part anyway, was full of lush colors and rolling hills. The sea air was brilliantly crisp and any bride would be pleased with such a location, even if it seemed a bit remote. If Aden was able to connect with Junie’s relatives, the two of them together might deliver the wedding surprise Junie never knew she wanted.

  “This is where we set up for the outdoor wedding if the weather is good.” Kenan gestured to a flat open field surrounded by a stone wall that was clearly built ages ago and by hand.

  “Is the weather usually good?”

  “If the couple is good.” Kenan shrugged and smiled. “We Irish are in love with old traditions and superstitions. ’Round these parts if the weather is good, the marriage will be good. Also, it’s got to be a woman who wishes the couple luck first, not a man. My favorite is the lock on the church door.”

  “They lock them out?”

  “Nah, they lock them in. Irish men have a habit of running. Once they’re in the church someone locks the door behind them to keep them from bolting. That dates back a few hundred years but we still do it ’round here.”

  “Irish men are known for running?” Kenan probably assumed Maribel’s furrowed brow and look of concern was about him. Was she already thinking marriage? Was she wondering what kind of mate Kenan would be? What he didn’t realize was her thoughts were solely on Aden. Perhaps if she’d have locked the cab door after he got in, she could have told him how she felt and kept him from running off.

  “So they say. Not me though. I’ve been here my whole life. Never gonna run anywhere. As much as I’d like to.” The up and down of his words was still amusing to Maribel who felt suddenly worldly being surrounded by the beautiful accents.

  “You don’t travel much?”

  “Nah, nowhere. Not ever. But someday I will. I take care of Auntie Aileen and a few of her daughters and granddaughters who need help. Not a lot of work here in Gallamare so we do what we can for each other. But you won’t hear me complaining. Mostly because I don’t want to catch a smack from Auntie or my cousins.”

  Maribel gave a small laugh when Kenan shot her a wink. “Tough women. I like that.”

  “Some of their men ran off too. Some killed at sea.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “We have a saying here. Loads of them actually. A man may live after losing his life but not after losing his honor. So for me the men who run off are dead to us anyway.”

  Maribel nodded. “Well the groom for the wedding isn’t Irish. Just the bride. They’re mad about each other, so I don’t think we’ll have to lock him in the church. We’ll be more likely to have to pull them out of their hotel room and try to get them to keep their hands off each other long enough to say I do.” Maribel blushed again at the intimacy of this conversation and felt grateful they were walking. If they were sitting face to face across a table she’d burst with unease.

  “You think they’ll end up picking this place out of all the oth
er places in Ireland?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I hope they do.”

  “It’ll be good business for the hotel right? They do well for themselves, and I know the groom will spare no expense to make sure she has everything she wants.”

  “It’ll mean good company for me.” Kenan spun on her and they stopped. They stood beneath the shade of a large tree, and he leaned down to pluck a flower for her. Tucking it into her hair, he leaned back and looked pleased with himself. “Beauty for beauty.”

  “You are a smooth talker.” Maribel dropped her eyes to the ground and reached to gently touch the flower in her hair.

  “You are a sweet lass. But sad.”

  Maribel didn’t answer. She couldn’t muster a lie.

  “You shouldn’t spend any time sad. If that means I have to pluck you a thousand flowers and kiss your hand over and over I will.” He reached down and pulled her hand to his lips. “Don’t be sad. Please.”

  “I’m working on that.” It was an admission she felt silly making. She’d lost more than her dignity the night Aden shot her down. She’d lost her friend. That was the part she couldn’t seem to face.

  “That man, the one in the lobby. He’s the trouble? I can have him tossed out. I can make it so no one in town will speak to him.” Kenan brought his fists up as though he was about to be in fight. A mocking kind of tough guy act.

  “No, it’s not his fault. We work together. I thought maybe it could be more, but he wasn’t interested.” Saying it out loud for the first time made the pain more real, more intense. She had been mortified by Aden’s reaction, but more than that she had been wounded by the way it dashed her fantasies of having more with him.