by J. L. Fynn
I cleared the distance so quickly it even surprised me and clamped a hand down on his meaty shoulder.
“What the hell, man?” He spun around to glare at me, his face flushed red with anger and alcohol. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy?”
“She doesn’t look like she’s that into it.” I tipped my head at Spencer. “Maybe you should let her go back to the party.”
“Maybe you should mind your own damn business.” He shoved his thick fingertips into my chest, knocking me backward a step or two.
“I don’t think you want to do that.” I brushed a hand over the shoulder seam in my shirt. “Come on. Have a little respect for the girls who were nice enough to invite you to their party.”
“Listen, dipshit,” the guy said. He took a step toward me, but I didn’t flinch. “You have about twenty seconds to get the hell out of my face before you get your ass beat.”
I chuckled. “How about you go ahead and try now and save us both the twenty seconds?”
His red face purpled, and he swung. I leaned away from his clumsy right hook easily, then dodged his left. Frustrated, he barreled toward me, hunched forward like a wrestler. I sidestepped his charge and pushed my hands into his back as he passed, using his own momentum to send him sprawling to the floor behind me. He slid into the wall with a grunt. I didn’t know whether he’d stay down or not, but I wasn’t waiting around to find out. I grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled her from the alcove.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I FOLLOWED THE music back into the main room of the sorority house. The crowd had thinned, but there was still less chance of the drunk coming back for more out among other people. I pushed past a few dancing couples, pulling Spencer along behind me until we were in the middle of the room. I stopped and turned so fast that she crashed into my chest. She tipped her head back to look up at me. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed, but she didn’t try to pull away when my arms wrapped around her. She gripped my shoulders with trembling hands.
“I’m sorry—” I said.
“Thank you for—” she said at the same time, then smiled. “Go ahead.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry about that.” I gestured toward the hall with my chin. “I know it was none of my business, but…” I shrugged.
“Shane, don’t apologize. That was… I don’t know what that was, but thank you. I knew that guy from my chemistry class, and he said he needed to talk to me about something. I can’t believe…” She pressed closer to me, and I could feel her heartbeat slowing to a more normal pace.
I shrugged a second time. “To be honest, it’s not the first fight I’ve been in and definitely wasn’t the worst.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Is that supposed to be charming?”
The song ended, and a new, slower one started. For half a second, I thought she might pull away, but when she didn’t move, I tightened my arms around her waist and looked down into her face. “That depends. Do you find it more charming when guys tell you what you want to hear or tell you the truth?”
“It has to be one or the other?”
“It doesn’t have to be, but it usually is.”
I’d finally succeeded in coaxing out a smile. “I guess, if I have to choose, I’d go with the truth, even if it’s not always what I want to hear.”
I smiled. “Good choice.”
Spencer dropped her face and relaxed into my arms, resting her cheek against my chest as we swayed together to the haunting melody of a tin whistle. The warmth of her face soaked through my shirt to the skin beneath. Her hair smelled faintly of honey and vanilla. I couldn’t help pressing my face to the top of her head and inhaling deeply. Breathing her in.
Another song ended, and I felt her pull away just a little. I scrambled to find a reason why I wouldn’t let her go. “It’s getting a little close in here.” I pulled on the top button of my shirt to make my point. “Do you want to go outside? Get some fresh air?”
Spencer gave me a long look. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth—no doubt a nervous habit, but an adorable one. Still, it meant she was wary about being alone with me, which didn’t do much for my cause. I adopted a mask of casual indifference. After another few seconds of silence from Spencer, I shrugged and moved my foot as if I were about to walk away.
“Anyway, thank you for the dance,” I said. I flashed a grin and stepped around her.
“Hold on.” She caught my hand. “I’ll come with you.”
This time I let her lead the way. We weaved through the party and toward the back of the house, passing through a formal dining room. Spencer took in the mounting piles of trash that littered the table with a frown as we reached a pair of French doors, and she pulled on one of the brass handles to open it.
We emerged onto a stone patio where a handful of guests had come to enjoy the warm night air. Despite the heat, a fire crackled inside a clay chiminea on the patio. Another nod to the Celtic holiday, I guessed, though I wasn’t sure why they’d even bothered trying to mimic the bonfires usually associate with Lúnasa in this heat.
A welcome breeze blew through the trees surrounding the backyard of the OIA house. It lifted the wide strand of ribbon that cinched the waist of Spencer’s dress, and I caught it in one hand, ran my thumb across its silky surface, and then let it unfurl from my fingers. The breeze set it to its rippling dance again, and I took her hand. We descended the stone steps that led down from the patio and followed a path through the backyard to a mercifully deserted courtyard hidden behind a circle of hedges. Spencer pulled her hand from mine and walked to a wooden swing set off to one side. I pushed both hands deep into the pockets of my shorts and followed after her. I held the swing still and waited for her to get situated before I sat beside her. She rested her hand beside her leg and gripped the swing’s edge. I did the same, careful to leave a small distance between our fingers.
“So,” she said after a long moment. “Is your family still in New Orleans?”
I nodded, grateful for the question. She seemed so nervous that I’d started to worry my usual talents wouldn’t be much use in winning her over. “My mam and my older brother are both there,” I answered, neglecting to mention the entire village of Travelers who were mostly distant relatives in one way or another.
She arched a questioning eyebrow. “Your ‘mam’?”
Dammit. I cast about for an explanation, then simply decided on the truth. “She’s Irish—my mother. I mean—actually-from-Ireland Irish. It’s just what we call her.”
“That’s cool. Have you ever been?”
“To Ireland?”
“Yeah.”
“No, but she keeps threatening to take us.” I laughed. “She says every Irishman needs to see the ‘land of saints and scholars’ at least once before he dies. I’m sure she’d say the same thing for Irishwomen, too, of course.” I bumped my shoulder into hers the way Kay had done.
Spencer smiled. “I’d like to go someday for sure. OIA has a program that allows you to study at Trinity College for a semester. I’ve thought about applying, but the idea of being on my own in Dublin for a semester is a little scary.”
“Yeah, being away from home can be rough.” I’d only been gone for a few days, and already I missed Maggie, Jimmy Boy, and the dogs.
“I’m surprised you knew I was Irish. With a last name like Costello, most people assume I’m Italian.”
“Well, you’re in OIA, so I just guessed.” I left out the fact that Costello was a pretty common Traveler name. There were at least two dozen of them back home—probably even related to her, though they’d never claimed Tommy as far as I’d ever heard. Of course, they wouldn’t, given what he’d done.
She grinned, and it quickly brought my attention back to the present moment. “So what does yer mam do?” she asked, affecting a convincing Irish brogue.
“Oh, a bit o’ this, a bit o’ that.” I mimicked Maggie’s airy, lilting speech. “She’s a diviner. She reads tarot cards an
d tea leaves for the tourists and for the locals who believe in that sort of thing.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Many women in the Village came to Maggie to learn how a particular season of traveling might work out or to get assurance that a marriage arrangement would lead to a happy life for a child, but for now, it served my purpose for Spencer to imagine her as one of the fortunetellers in New Orleans’ Jackson Square.
Spencer fixed me with a curious smile. I guessed it sounded a little strange given how normal her upbringing must’ve been. But if she thought badly of my family or me, she didn’t say so. “Sometimes I wouldn’t mind knowing what my future holds,” she admitted.
I took the opening. I turned her hand so her palm faced upward and scrutinized it for several silent moments. With the index finger of my free hand, I traced a line that traversed the pale surface of her palm. Her slight shiver at my touch was encouraging, to say the least.
“Well, now…” I continued my Maggie impersonation. “What do we have here, lass? It seems you have a bright future indeed.” I glanced up at her through my lashes. She stared at her hand enveloped in mine. “I see you in an abandoned courtyard, and…what’s this?” I looked at her again, pleased to see she’d leaned in a hair closer in anticipation of what I’d say next. “You appear to be getting very close to a handsome young stranger.”
She laughed but pulled away. I registered a fleeting sense of disappointment at the sudden emptiness of my hand but smiled at her anyway.
“I certainly hope your mom is better than you because, as far as fortune telling goes, that was pretty weak.”
“What can I say? I guess the only thing she passed on to me was her eyes.”
“Then I think you got the better end of the deal,” Spencer said.
I wanted to kiss her then, but after her experience with the drunk in the alcove, I wasn’t sure how she’d react. Instead I dropped my eyes, pretending to be embarrassed by the compliment.
“So what about your mom?” I asked. I was honestly curious. Pop hadn’t known who Tommy had taken up with after he’d left the Village, but Spencer was born soon after, so there had to have been someone.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” She shrugged. “I know she was a waitress, but she took off right after I was born, so it’s just been my dad and me.”
“Same here,” I said. “With my dad, I mean. He died before I was born.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her expression pained. She squeezed my hand, and I was surprised by the genuine rush of affection. If anyone else had told me Tommy Costello had been left alone with a baby girl to raise on his own, I would’ve been glad to hear it. Sitting in the dark holding Spencer’s hand, I just felt bad for her.
“Do you see that constellation right there?” she asked, pointing at something over our heads. I appreciated the chance to shake off the disconcerting feelings of sympathy and looked up to follow the line of her outstretched arm. “It’s Òighean,” she continued. “When I was little, my dad told me no matter how alone I felt, the Lady of the Stars would always be where I could find her.”
I leaned closer to her and bent my neck back so I was nearer her eye level, then squinted to search for the woman. After a moment, I shook my head, chuckling. “I’m not sure which stars you’re pointing at.”
Spencer rolled her eyes at me and pressed her fingertips under my chin, tilting my face in the direction of the constellation. She pointed again with her free hand. I nodded, but my mind was preoccupied with the feeling of her fingers against my skin. I looked down at her. Spencer’s face was still upturned, and her skin glowed a pale silver in the moonlight as she smiled. Without giving any thought to how she would react or whether it would set back any progress I’d made so far, I kissed her.
Spencer’s response wasn’t immediate, but after a moment, she kissed me back, pressing her hands into my chest. I laid one hand against the side of her neck and tangled the fingers of my other through the silky hair at the back of her head. Her mouth was hot on mine, and she tasted sweet as our tongues met.
Long before I was ready for it to end, she broke off the kiss. She looked up at me breathlessly, her lips parted. Our faces were so close I could feel her warm breath against my cheek.
“I guess your prediction wasn’t so far off after all,” she said with a playful grin.
I smiled and pulled her back to me for another kiss.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“YOU HAVE NICE hands,” Spencer said, running her fingers down my palm.
We’d spent every evening together in the week since the party, and tonight was no exception. She stretched out across the sofa in the sorority’s living room, her head resting in my lap. It was rare for us to have the common area to ourselves, so even though the television was on, neither of us paid it much attention.
“You have nice everything,” I said, catching her fingers between mine.
“Be more specific,” she said with a grin that made my blood stir.
I shifted my hips slightly. “I like your nose.” I leaned forward to kiss the tip of it. “Your chin.” I pressed my lips to the southern point of her heart-shaped face. “And I especially like your mouth.”
She lifted her head to meet my kiss. It started as a peck, but when her lips parted, I tucked my hand under her head to pull her face even closer. She slid a hand around the back of my neck, and her cool fingers against the sensitive skin at my hairline immediately made my kissing more insistent.
“Jeez, get a room.” Moira, the OIA sister responsible for Spencer’s passing French grade, leaned against the doorframe that opened into the living room.
“You’re one to talk,” Spencer said, though she pushed herself up so she was sitting next to me instead of lying across my lap. “You know how many episodes of The Daily Show I’ve missed because you and your latest boy toy are hogging the living room?”
Spencer’d explained on my first evening in the house that the OIAs had a strict rule about when boys became boyfriends and were thus welcome in the upper level of the house. Frankly, it was a rule I was beginning to resent. The closer I got to Spencer, the sooner I’d have access to Tommy and the book he’d stolen from Pop. Still, I had to admit there was something admirable about a group of girls looking out for each other, even when it would be easy to look the other way. It reminded me of what Pop had said about giving the young members in the clan a little breathing room without letting them get into too much trouble.
Moira giggled. “Fair enough. But it’s Project Runway day, so the TV’s mine in 20 minutes.”
When she’d gone, Spencer pulled her feet up and turned so she was facing me. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” she said, resting her head against the back of the sofa.
“Time flies.” I grinned at her. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I’d planned to press her a little more on the subject of family tonight, maybe even work into the conversation that I wouldn’t mind meeting her dad. But somehow the entire evening had passed without me getting any closer to an invitation to Tommy’s than I’d been since I’d run into her accidentally-on-purpose outside the Carroll Center. Still, I didn’t want to press my luck either, and the idea of spending a little more time with Spencer certainly wasn’t the worst thing I could imagine.
“You have an early class tomorrow, yeah? I should probably let you get to bed.” I slid to the edge of the sofa.
“Don’t you dare,” she said and threw her legs into my lap, pinning me to the cushion.
I laughed, surprised but perfectly happy to stay put. I leaned back into the sofa and looked at her. “Okay, then. So what should we do for our last twenty minutes of alone time?” I wrapped my hands around one of the slender feet in my lap and kneaded the arch with my thumbs.
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes. “This is good.”
I continued working the sole of her foot, moving from arch to heel. A contented smile lit her face as she relaxed deeper into the couch. Relaxed and happy. Perfect.
“So tell me more about your fami
ly. I know you’re an only child, but what about cousins, aunt and uncles, grandparents?” It was easy to keep my tone casual when I already knew the answers to my questions. Any family she did have, Tommy wouldn’t have told her about.
“Nope. I mean, I guess I could have relatives on my mom’s side, but you know. My dad was an only child, and his parents died when he was a teenager.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said it was just you and your dad. Must’ve been tough.” My fingers moved to her ankle. “I’m not sure what I would have done without my brother.”
“It was lonely sometimes, but honestly, we moved around so often I probably wouldn’t have been able to see extended family very much anyway. Sometimes, the fact that it was just him and I made things easier.”
“I can see that.” My hands had worked their way to her calf muscle, and my fingers moved under the hem of her cropped jeans. “Jimmy and I have gone on our share of road trips. It’s not the same as moving around a lot, but it’s nice when you spend so much time with someone on your own. You get to the point where you can just sort of read each other without doing much talking. It’s nice.” And it makes running cons much easier when you were leaving town the next day.
“Exactly,” she said. She might have said more, but my fingers brushed the back of her knee and the resulting shudder apparently drove away any other thought she’d had.
“They’re thinking of coming up for Christmas,” I said, switching to her other foot. “Maggie hasn’t seen snow since she left Ireland.”
Spencer finally opened her eyes again and smiled. “It’s so weird that you call your mom Maggie.”
“If you met her, you’d understand. It’s hard to think of her as anything else.”
“I’d love to meet her. And Jimmy, too. You know, if you’d be okay with it.”
