by Sheila Kell
Chapter Nine
Moira’s day began with another upheaval—although quietly—as Justin left to return to Ireland. With her brother in Boston, she was left alone with someone she felt she barely knew. Sure, they’d spent time together as children and teens, but this man seemed so different from the young man she’d sworn would be hers. She’d been stupid and lovesick then, but the thought of the vow sent butterflies to her stomach. This man didn’t hold her heart, but with his looks and protectiveness, he held her interest.
“Moira,” Danny said, snapping her from her memories and daydream. Before she could respond, he continued, “I have something to show you.”
Her heartbeat ramped up at that. Curiosity drove her blood fast through her veins. She had no idea what he might show her, but she hoped she liked whatever it was.
“Are you finished with lunch?” he asked, before taking his empty plate to the kitchen sink. “I think you’ll like it. I knew it’d be perfect for your painting.”
Painting. Something for her painting. Now that really got her excited. “I’m finished.” She wasn’t, but she wanted the surprise. Later, she’d grab a snack. Following Danny’s lead, she brought her plate to the kitchen. She looked around for a bin to dump the rest of her sandwich but found none.
“Here.” Danny reached out for her plate. “It’s in the cabinet.” He pulled out a handle and a garbage can slid out and slid in with the slightest push.
“Impressive,” she told him.
“Hold that word for what I’m about to show you.”
He grabbed her hand and nearly pulled her to the stairs. A bit nervous at the enthusiasm, but curious about the surprise, she closely followed, leaving her hand in his. It wasn’t like she’d get lost in the place. Oh, it was large, but not that large.
Passing the second story, they climbed to the third. Danny opened the only door on the floor—as far as she could tell—and stepped back, smiling. He let go of her hand and waved her into the room in front of him.
When she stepped in the room, the amount of light hit her first. An abundance of natural light flooded the room from the windows lining the back wall. His home, while narrow, wasn’t a terraced home, so he had windows on the sides, but it was built so close to his neighbors, the side light was not as rich.
Supreme happiness floated within her. She could paint here. She could be happy in this one room while she waited for things to sort out. While she waited for her brother and Diana. While she waited for her life to become normal again. Painting soothed everything within her soul. And Danny had just given her the best gift she’d ever received—bar the stuffed rabbit her brother had given her as a child. She still had it, had, in fact, added it to the list of things packed from her home. But this, this was much grander.
“Well, what do you think?”
She spun around with her arms out to encompass the room, giggling like a little girl. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
“Just show me what needs to be lugged up here and you can get set up. Give me a list and I can have an easel, chair, and whatever else you need picked up easily enough. Then you can spend the afternoon making this yours.”
“Afternoon…” She smiled. “Evening, night, straight through. I can’t wait to get started.”
Danny cleared his throat. The somber look told her she might not like what he had to say. She hoped he didn’t assign rules to her painting.
“Tonight might not work. Remember, I didn’t know you’d be here yet, so I agreed to some babysitting.”
That certainly surprised her. He didn’t seem the childminder type, then again, she didn’t know this man. Only that he was generous. “Okay, I’ll help.”
“You won’t need to, but I doubt the kids will leave you be. You’ll be too much of a puzzle to Reagan and she’s precocious. Not to mention little Amber who tries to copy her.”
“It sounds fun.”
“Are you sure? There’s going to be seven children running around my house, ages baby to middle school.”
She gulped but wanted to see Danny in this setting. Something about it tickled her curiosity about the man. Him and weans. Kids. “Oh wow, sure, I’m still game. I guess we’d best get the shopping done then. I’ll need you to take me since I don’t have a license or a car.”
“I planned to anyway. Get your purse or whatever you plan to carry and let’s get moving.”
Later, Moira sat back in the comfy chair she’d selected for her temporary studio. The easel, while not the one she’d had in Ireland, worked well in the space. She and Danny had been limited to what was in the store, but she preferred to buy now instead of waiting for an online order because even two days without painting in that beautiful space would be horrible. She’d been able to purchase canvases and more paints. Thankfully, her brushes had been part of the inventory she’d demanded from her home in Ireland.
She sighed as she stood, then said goodnight to the room with the things that made her happy and content. She descended the stairs and met up with Danny, who was waiting in the living room.
“Again, I’m sorry. I agreed to this before I knew you’d be here.”
Danny’s apology was cute but unnecessary. She didn’t mind at all helping watch the weans. “I don’t get how you are the choice as a childminder for wee ones.”
With a shrug, he explained, “I like kids and offered one day to watch Ace, who is almost three now. After that, I became a babysitter for when the family goes out together. Now there are four one-year-olds, but with Reagan and Amber, I barely have anything to do. Those two act like mother hens. Truthfully, they’re a little bossy. Cute bossy, but bossy.”
Moira laughed at that visual. “Didn’t you say Reagan had an older brother? Surely he could watch the weans.”
Danny laughed. “He’s a sixteen-year-old boy. He only cares about getting to first base. Besides, maybe the babies will have their first steps for us.”
The doorbell rang and Moira braced herself for an evening as a childminder. Seven wee ones. She wasn’t against it, but she hadn’t been around babies enough, and she worried she might do the wrong thing.
As it turned out, all the weans were walking. Nay, not walking, sprinting. She, Amber, and Reagan each took a wee one to keep corralled in the living room with the others. Danny took two toddlers. The babies got into everything and they did it lightning fast. No wonder the family didn’t get out together much. Who would watch this group? Well, besides Danny, who seemed as if he could’ve handled all the weans with ease. He brightened when playing with them. The man needed to have a family. It was obvious he craved one. Or at least did so when he was minding the babies.
With the wee ones finally asleep in Danny’s room and Danny occupying three-year-old Ace, Moira and the older kids went back to the living room.
After getting them each a beverage, Moira sat, and Amber pulled herself up on the couch beside her. Then the little girl proceeded to impart her wisdom. “Mom says I can’t live with a boy unless we’re married or related. Are you related to Uncle Danny? Because if you are, then it’s okay you live here, but if not, well, I guess you have to get married.”
The logic of a six-year-old astounded her. She really didn’t have words for a response that would pacify the girl. She desired Danny and living with him presented a challenge for her not to be forward since he was being so respectful, but married? Nay. She didn’t care for the state of matrimony. Being free and single to live how she wanted suited her fine.
Reagan slid onto the love seat facing them. “Silly, that’s only a rule made by your mom and dad. Real adults don’t have to be married or related to live together. I heard Dad say people live in sin all the time. Uncle Ken and Aunt Sam did before they got married.”
These parents were really messing with their kiddos’ heads. She’d heard the men of this family were overprotective, but come on. Expecting it to be futile sinc
e the weans seemed confident in their parents’ version, she tried to set the record straight. She did think it cute the kids all called Danny—and he said his teammates—Uncle. “Your uncle Danny is letting me stay here until my brother and his girlfriend arrive. We’re not living in sin, getting married, or related. It is possible for two adults to be just roommates.”
Reagan snorted. “Uncle Jake would never allow that for Amber. He said she couldn’t even date until she was thirty. Imagine. Thirty is ancient. I mean, I don’t want to date boys now, but Mom says I will one day, but it will be when I’m a teenager not thirty. I’ll be half-dead by that age.”
“Oh yeah, well, Uncle Jesse said you can’t date until you’re twenty-five. So there.” Amber stuck out her tongue.
Reagan groaned and fell back in the cushions. “Twenty-five. Ancient.”
Moira grinned and guessed that did seem ancient to a nine-year-old, but since Moira was twenty-eight, she was beginning to feel as prehistoric as the girls made her age sound.
“Are your brother and his girlfriend getting married? Because if not, they shouldn’t be living here together either,” Amber said.
As she’d expected, her explanation had gone in one ear and out the other. What the child’s parents taught her stood firm in her mind. “They do plan to get married. They’re having a wean.” Too late she realized she might’ve opened up a whole other conversation.
Amber scrunched up her nose. “What’s a wean?”
Moira tried to keep her Irish from her vocabulary, so she’d fit in better, but sometimes, it slipped out. “A baby.”
“And they’re not married?” Amber asked and truth be told, the child looked scandalized.
“Not yet. Her daddy didn’t approve of my brother, so they couldn’t get married before.”
“But he approves now?” Reagan asked.
“Let’s just say that he’s not standing in the way any longer.”
“Oh boy,” Reagan said with a dramatic eye roll.
“What?” She couldn’t imagine what she’d said to evoke that response.
“Anytime our parents start a sentence with ‘let’s just say,’ it means they think we won’t understand.”
Well, she couldn’t tell them Diana’s father wanted them both dead instead of blessing their union. “Nay. Nothing like that for me.”
Reagan nodded. “You’ve got a funny accent.”
“Reagan,” Amber chided, “you weren’t supposed to mention that.”
Why on earth? Oh, it must’ve been to keep from embarrassing her. Well, she couldn’t get more embarrassed, so she exaggerated her accent, “Ye like how I sound, wee lasses?”
The girls fell into peals of laughter. Moira laughed along at the night she’d had so far.
Danny, with Ace clinging to him, stuck his head in the room. “Keep it down in there. You don’t want to wake the kids.” He ducked back out speaking to the little boy, “I swear those women….”
“I have a swear jar for the men who work for my dad. So, if Uncle Danny cusses, you make sure he puts his money in the jar. I have to pay for college, after all.”
The beauty of a wean’s mind to switch from one topic to the next.
Chapter Ten
The past two weeks with Moira had been more fun than he could recall having in a long time. If he wasn’t so damn scared of another crash, he’d have given her an aerial tour. It was a beautiful way to see the city. Maybe one day.
Declan had told him Diana was put on bedrest, and her situation was still cautious. So the two remained in Boston and asked that Moira stay with Danny, even though she wanted to be at her brother’s side. To help keep her mind off the situation, he’d done what his mom did whenever she had something on her mind—he took Moira shopping.
Around town, she’d purchased the remainder of the supplies she needed for her studio, and he’d taken the time to show her around. They’d laughed, acted all touristy, and chatted about their younger days. As he’d expected, she fell in love with the first Irish pub they visited. They never made it to the other two. Something told him they’d spend a lot of time at this one, which worked out well because the teams also enjoyed hanging out there.
Watching Moira put delectable looking rolls in the oven, he moved to the bar in his kitchen and sat. With her back to the counter, she chopped vegetables with near precision. He reached over to snag a carrot, and she slapped his hand before he reached the vegetable. Chuckling, he held up his hands. “Okay. I won’t,” he lied. It made her look so fierce and protective that he’d have to attempt a steal again.
Pushing all her buttons made him smile. A lightness in his gut only emphasized the joy being around her created. He’d call it lighthearted… comfortable… close. Yes, it’d turned into a friendship that’d gone beyond what they’d experienced in their youth. It didn’t mean he didn’t still want the woman. He craved her with every bone in his body. Speaking of bone, ashamedly, his hard-on was ever present around her. Either she didn’t notice the bulge in his jeans, or she didn’t speak of it. Still, since she was his brother’s girl, he wouldn’t take advantage, but the desire to have her was slowly killing him.
It was coming to the end of the few days he’d had off. “Moira, when I go back to work”—her knife stopped a moment, then began again— “I need to make sure you’ve got everything you need.”
Although she didn’t look up, he saw a brightness to her face before she asked, “The car?”
“No, Moira. I’ve told you that you can’t drive here. That driver’s license won’t make it through a police stop. Then you’d get arrested. Then your real passport would need to be used. Then you’d probably trigger something in the system that showed a trail.” Again, he wished they could do more for her identification, but it’d been quick providing her a driver’s license to match the passport Justin had forged. The license hadn’t been for driving but for easy ID when needed. To ease his mind, he may need to speak with Jesse about helping her technically disappear and getting her documents that would hold up to scrutiny.
The brightness quickly faded, and he wanted to jump over the counter and hold her tight, promising to always take care of her.
He hated to ruin her happiness. To him, she was a breath of fresh air. Everything was new to her in the sense of how the US set their stores up. The sights, which he’d seen before, excited her, and she talked of painting a canvas of the town.
“Let’s talk about money. I’ll give you some cash and my card for whatever you need.”
She shook her head. “I thought I told you that Declan put money into an account for me.”
With his brows taking a deep dive, he wondered if she understood the change in currency. He also wondered why Declan had decided to remain in Boston, leaving his sister to a family friend rather than asking for her to join them. It was nosy, but he needed to know she wouldn’t run out of money. “How much?”
She told him a figure, and his mouth dropped.
“See,” she said confidently, “more than enough, and he plans to keep it full for me.”
He swallowed a couple times, battling the lump lodged in his throat. He’d known the family was well off, but not that much to have coming in regularly. Then again… “Where did your brother get so much money?”
She shrugged. “He said it was from our parents, and soon, I come into my full inheritance.” Her body tightened and that made him want to tickle her to find out the reason. That had been their way when they were kids. Now, he figured it would be inappropriate.
“What is it?” He reached over and snagged a cut potato.
“You shouldn’t eat that raw.”
Grinning—something he kept doing with her, he probed again, “What is it?”
When she slammed down the knife on the cutting board and looked at him with fire in her eyes, he almost wished he hadn’t pushed. This emotion was some
thing he hadn’t seen and wasn’t sure what it meant.
“I also have to be married to collect it.”
After his initial shock, he laughed, then tossed her a grin. Even figuring his brother had been tagged for the job, he offered, “If you don’t have anyone else by then, I’ll marry you.” Where the hell had that come from and why didn’t it scare him? “Friends do it all the time.”
Her nervous laugh left him wondering whether he’d said the right thing or not. Surely, she had to know it was a joke. Although…. No, he wouldn’t think of something so far out there. When he found the right woman, he’d marry. But Moira was a friend he wanted to make happy. Oh, and have twisting-in-the-sheets sex with.
Picking up the knife and slicing, she took a moment before she spoke. “Thanks, but I won’t marry just for the money. I made a really good living in Ireland painting and can do the same when I return.”
She’d leave. Panic took hold of him and walloped his heart into beating overtime. A thought occurred to him. “If this isn’t over by then”—she looked at him sharply, but he wouldn’t stop pushing— “and you’re married, how can you collect the money without alerting anyone?”
She waved her hand with the knife—which he kept his eye on—as if his question was inconsequential, then seemed to think about it. “I hadn’t thought about that. Since I’ll be supposedly dead, Declan’s my beneficiary, so I guess he has the money. Well, he’ll be dead too.” She bit her outer lip, and Danny wanted to climb over the counter and help her. After thinking it over, she shrugged and returned to her task. “Declan will work it out when the time comes.”
He added to his list to ask Joe or Devon how secure the accounts were she was using. He couldn’t let something so simple bite them in the ass. Maybe they should transfer the money to a new account in her fake name and do it while routing and bouncing it enough to hide every converted dollar. How does that work with the general inheritance if both of them are dead?
