Wild Irish Rebel

by O'Malley, Tricia

  Flynn raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. "Work on your mind?"

  "Aye, Aislinn wants me to manage the store."

  "Well, that's a wonderful opportunity. It will allow Aislinn more time to paint and it's clear you've an eye for what you're doing."

  Morgan angled her head at Flynn as the shoreline whipped past them.

  "How so?"

  "And weren't you the one responsible for the fancy design at her showing? What about the way the shop's been rearranged or how Aislinn's now selling prints of her work around the world? Surely that wasn't all Aislinn's work?"

  Morgan couldn't help but smile at his words.

  "I suppose that I've had a bit of a hand in that," she said.

  "I'd say. Listen, I love Aislinn but she isn't the most business-minded. Half the time she closes the gallery on a whim to go painting."

  "Which I've put my foot down about," Morgan said firmly.

  "See? You'll do just fine."

  "I don't know," Morgan said softly, shrugging her shoulders.

  "Are you worried about quitting this job?"

  "I don't want to lose it or leave you hanging," Morgan said on a rush of words. "You took a chance on me when nobody else would and it means the world to me."

  Flynn slowed the boat to a crawl and turned to look at her.

  "I won't be upset if you take the job. You deserve it."

  "But, what will you do about going into the cove? Nobody else can do that with you."

  "I've been doing it for years prior to you coming here," Flynn pointed out gently.

  "Well, what if we made the cove day on Mondays when the gallery is closed?"

  "Yes, I could do that, set up the pots over the weekend and then come in with you on Mondays," Flynn agreed easily and Morgan felt her stomach turn a bit.

  "Did I just take the job at the gallery?" she wondered out loud.

  Flynn laughed and patted her shoulder before turning back to the wheel and punching the engine up a notch.

  "Sure and it seems like you did," he called to her over the sound of the motor.

  Morgan smiled at him but inside her stomach was doing flips.

  "We'll see," she said and shut her mouth, mulling over her words as the boat zipped into harbor. The village was busy this late in the afternoon and it made her smile to see people bustling about their day, going from market to home. Groups of school children in their uniforms raced through the town, taunting and teasing each other. And the lights at Flynn's restaurant shone bright.

  "You'll be taking this batch here?" Morgan asked, motioning from the lobsters to his restaurant.

  "Aye, if we have too many, I'll dry-ice the lot of them and send them up to Galway," Flynn said with a nod.

  Morgan nodded and hopped easily from the boat to the dock as Flynn brought the boat near. Grabbing the large rope at the front of the boat, she tied it quickly to the dock, securing it and running back to the end of the boat to tie up that side as well. Working fast, they transferred the lobsters quickly.

  "Run those up for me while I clean up the boat," Flynn instructed.

  Morgan glanced at the mess of the boat.

  "You sure?"

  "Aye," Flynn said and waved her away.

  Morgan hefted the lobsters that were in two large buckets filled with seawater. Though she was slim, she wasn't weak. Even so, the weight of the buckets made her step carefully down the dock, worried that she would spill the lobsters out. As she reached the boardwalk that ran the length of the harbor, she turned to the right and began to make her way towards Flynn's restaurant.

  "Need help?"

  A voice like whiskey with a hint of sex called to her and Morgan immediately felt herself stiffen. Telling herself to calm down, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

  "Hey, Patrick." She smiled easily.

  Patrick Kearney hustled down the boardwalk towards Morgan and her heart twisted a bit. A wide smile combined with stormy gray eyes and a head of dark hair was enough to cause any girl to stop and stare. The fact that he'd taken an interest in Morgan had done nothing to ease her nervousness around him. In fact, it made it worse. She fumbled with buckets as he drew near. Patrick smiled and bent and for a brief moment, Morgan thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he slipped his hands under the handles of both buckets and lifted them with ease from hers.

  "I can do that," Morgan said stiffly, then wanted to kick herself for sounding ungrateful.

  "I know you can; 'tis easier for me as I carry buckets of ice all day long," Patrick said easily and swung up the small hill towards Flynn's restaurant. Patrick was head bartender and part-time manager of Cait's pub. He could often be seen doing everything from pouring a pint to serving food. Morgan liked that about him. He didn't mind pulling up his sleeves and getting the job done – no matter what was needed.

  Morgan supposed that she had the same style of work ethic as she never hesitated to put the extra bit of work in as needed.

  "Sure and it was a grand day to be on the water," Patrick commented as she fell into step next to him.

  "Aye, 'tis true. One of our first real balmy days. I'm looking forward to more like it," Morgan offered, grateful for the easy conversation.

  "How was the cove?" Patrick asked.

  Morgan stiffened and shot him a glance.

  "Fine. How do you know we were there?"

  Patrick motioned with a bucket. "Best lobster comes from the cove."

  "Aye, they do," Morgan agreed and then left it at that. At Aislinn's art showing earlier this year, Morgan had been surprised to find out that Patrick knew about some of the extra special abilities that the other women had. She'd been amazed at his seemingly easy acceptance of the fact that his boss could read his mind. Morgan wondered if he would be as accepting if he knew that the person he wanted to date had more power than the lot of them combined.

  I should ask her to dinner. Maybe this time she'll say yes, Patrick thought. Morgan grimaced and slammed down the walls in her mind. She wasn't as strong as Cait was with reading minds but a stray thought slipped through now and then.

  Morgan wasn't sure if she was ready to go to dinner with Patrick. After a long day on the boat, she just wanted to go home, shower, and curl up with a book. Morgan valued her space and, unknown to anyone else, she was slowly studying used business books that she purchased when she could afford them. If she was going to take on this job at Aislinn's, Morgan was determined to make it a success.

  "I can't wait to get home and put my feet up, it's sure been a long day," Morgan said quickly, hoping to stop Patrick in his tracks.

  A quick flicker of disappointment crossed Patrick's face and then his friendly smile returned.

  "What time are you on the water in the morning?"

  "Typically we are out there by five in the morning," Morgan said and then laughed when Patrick gave a dramatic shudder. "Not all of us can stay up all night drinking pints with the locals," she joked.

  "It's more than that," Patrick said stiffly and Morgan immediately felt bad.

  "I was just joking," she said as they reached the back door of Flynn's restaurant.

  "Aye, I know. Alright then, enjoy your early night," Patrick said and patted her shoulder gently before walking away. She watched him move with an easy grace that she envied. People shouted greetings to him as he walked towards the pub and he'd wave a hand or shout back. Everyone knew and loved Patrick.

  Nobody knew her.

  It was enough to have her turn away and smile distractedly at Flynn's chef as he came to the back door. It would be wise of her not to forget that Patrick was the town's golden boy and she was still a mysterious outcast. It was better for her not to get too close to him.

  She'd learned long ago that forming bonds brought questions.

  And Morgan wasn't prepared to answer any of them.

  "Day's catch," Morgan said with a smile and the chef nodded and scooped the buckets from the stoop. A waft of air filled with the tantalizing smell of butter and garlic c
aused her stomach to growl and she wished that she could afford to eat at Flynn's restaurant.

  Instead, Morgan tucked her hair behind her shoulder and headed for her little apartment, keeping her head down to avoid meeting the eyes of people on the street.

  Chapter Three

  Patrick watched Morgan scurry up the road like a frightened mouse, her shoulders hunched and her eyes on the street in front of her. She missed the appreciative male gazes that lit upon her as well as the friendly smiles of the locals. The message was loud and clear – leave me alone.

  He sighed and reached up to massage a knot in his neck. Ever since Morgan had come to town, Patrick had eyes for no other. There was just something about her that had hooked him immediately. The most obvious fact being that she was mind-numbingly gorgeous. Her slim body with moody eyes the color of the sea after a storm coupled with her shy demeanor made him want to dig beneath the surface to find out more about her.

  And hadn't that gone well the last time he had tried?

  Patrick groaned and made his way towards the pub as he flashed back to that night in Aislinn's courtyard when he had helped Morgan to carry some driftwood pieces to the gallery. The sun had been setting and it had cast a warm glow over her smooth skin, lighting up her eyes and drawing his gaze to her full lips. He'd felt compelled to lean down to kiss her.

  He'd all but had a heart attack when she had screamed like he was hurting her. Patrick had jumped back, thinking there was a spider or something, when Baird and Aislinn had crashed through the gate. One look at Morgan had told him all he needed to know. The girl had been scared of him and Baird had quickly ushered Patrick away.

  It had been a bitter pill to swallow, one that deeply offended his strong code of ethics. He'd kept his distance from her, but unfortunately, that had done little to tamp down the fire that kindled within him whenever Morgan was around.

  Patrick pushed through the door of the pub, noting that Cait must already be here if the door was unlocked.

  "Cait?"

  "Over here." Her sharp voice called to him from the dining area. Her short hair and slim frame only made her huge belly that much more prominent. Cait turned with her hand on her back and gestured to the stage.

  "Do you think that we need to paint that wall? Move the speakers around?"

  Shane had warned him about this so Patrick stepped softly.

  "We just painted it last year. It looks right nice now with that deep green."

  Cait crossed her arms and studied the wall and then turned to glare at him.

  "You think that this is just pregnancy hormones?"

  Patrick raised his arms in defense. "I didn't say that!"

  Cait tapped her head with one finger and then narrowed her eyes at him again.

  "Listen, I know that women like to nest towards the end of their pregnancies. My sister was a mess. She re-did almost the whole house. Since this is like your home, I'm not surprised that you are looking to make some changes is all." Patrick hoped that his voice sounded as soothing as he could make it and was rewarded with a smile from Cait.

  "Aye, you're right. I'm just itching to make changes. I guess that I'm just nervous about the baby."

  "You know we'll all be here to help. He's going to have the best family."

  "Or she," Cait said stubbornly and Patrick laughed.

  "Well, the pool is running neck and neck for a boy or a girl."

  "Let me see it," Cait demanded and Patrick held up his hands again.

  "I can't do that. Who is to say that you won't try to sway the outcome?"

  "Sure and you don't think that I can change the baby from a boy to a girl now, do you?" Cait raised an eyebrow at him.

  "No, but it is also by day and time of birth so…you know." Patrick shrugged his shoulders.

  "Trust me, Patrick, if I could make this baby come any faster then I would. She will come when she damn well pleases."

  "You mean he, of course," Patrick said with a smile as he pulled a sheet of paper from a folder by the bar. Cait grabbed it from his hands and scanned it.

  "You picked a boy, that's why you keep saying it is a he," Cait said with a sniff and then raised an eyebrow at him. "3:33 am?"

  Patrick shrugged. "It's a lucky number."

  Cait laughed and then paled when she scanned the last column.

  "Sure and people don't think that I'll be waiting an extra three weeks to give birth?"

  Patrick cleared his throat. "Erm, well, uh, they say that the first can go longer is all."

  Cait turned steely eyes on Patrick.

  "The baby will come by its due date and no longer. I simply won't allow it."

  Patrick snatched the paper back from her.

  "And that is why you aren't supposed to see this. You can skew the results."

  Cait rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering to herself. Turning back, she looked at him again.

  "What's up with you?"

  Patrick stopped on his way to the long wood bar that wrapped around one side of the room.

  "Me?"

  "Aye, you seem sad."

  Unused to discussing his feelings, Patrick just shrugged his shoulders and ducked under the pass-through and, out of habit, began cleaning a few empty glasses that were stacked near the washer.

  Cait came closer and upon examining his face, pulled herself up onto a stool.

  "Give, or I'm reading your mind," Cait ordered.

  "Hey, stay out of there," Patrick grumbled.

  Cait just raised an eyebrow.

  "Alright, if you must know, it's Morgan."

  "I could have told you that," Cait said.

  "Well, why'd you ask then?" Patrick said angrily, wiping his hands with a bar towel.

  "Because I want to hear what is bothering you about Morgan in this particular instance. You've been mooning after her for months."

  Insulted, Patrick felt his cheeks flush.

  "I have done no such thing," he said angrily.

  "Well, I just meant that I know you've had an eye on her. Nobody else does, of course," Cait said quickly.

  "She's just…she's so standoffish. I can barely get a chance to know her. I was going to ask her to dinner tonight when I saw her leaving Flynn's boat but it was like she read my mind and immediately cut me off." A thought occurred to Patrick and his head shot up as he glared at Cait.

  "She can't read minds, can she?" he asked, accusation lacing his voice.

  This time, it was Cait who held up her hands in defense.

  "I certainly don't know that, now do I? I barely know the girl."

  Patrick shot Cait another suspicious glance before bending over to check the contents of the cooler.

  "It is like she is wearing a STOP sign on her," Patrick grumbled as he straightened. Cait had a look of sympathy on her face as she watched him.

  "Be patient with her, Patrick. She's had a rough upbringing."

  "So Baird has said. Yet nobody has bothered to tell me more."

  Cait shrugged her shoulders and reached across the bar to pat his hand.

  "It's not our story to tell."

  Chapter Four

  Later that night, Morgan uncurled herself from the corduroy loveseat that hugged one small wall of her apartment. She stretched on her tiptoes, working out the aches in her neck and back from bending over a book for hours.

  Aislinn had offered Morgan a manager position at Wild Soul Gallery just after her art show in Dublin. Though Morgan had been acting in that capacity for Aislinn for a while now, she'd been reluctant to officially accept the position. Aislinn bothered her about it on a weekly basis and Morgan knew that one of these days she would have to give her a formal answer.

  Morgan found herself biting her thumbnail and pulled her hand from her mouth, silently lecturing herself. She knew why she was nervous about taking the job from Aislinn. After years of being rejected from homes as a foster child, Morgan was terrified of letting anyone down.

  Her sessions with Baird were slowly teaching her to have m
ore confidence in herself and even he had told her that she was an excellent fit for the position.

  It was just her own demons that she had to get past.

  Sighing, she glanced back at the business book folded open on her small coffee table. Slowly, she was beginning to understand the finer nuances of a business budget, as well as the need for various marketing plans and the need for passive income streams. Helping Aislinn to begin selling prints of her work had been a boon for the business so far and one that eased some of the tension that Morgan had about taking the job.

  She'd just completed the last of the business books that she had wanted to get through. Flynn had given her the go-ahead to start the job. Baird and Aislinn wanted her to take it and Morgan knew it would ease some of the load from their shoulders as they were busy decorating their new house and adjusting to life as a couple.

  A little thrill of excitement slipped through her and for the first time in ages, Morgan laughed freely to herself and did a giddy little spin in her apartment.

  Tomorrow, she was going to accept the job.

  Chapter Five

  Morgan entered the courtyard tucked behind Wild Soul Gallery and smiled at the sight that greeted her. Aislinn must have had a painting session the night before because several canvases stood along the fence, drying in the soft light of the morning sun. Instead of Aislinn's usual turbulent seascapes, these paintings reflected the bright colors of village life. Morgan nodded her head in approval and made a note to have them made into small prints and postcards. They would be perfect for the upcoming tourist season.

  Taking out her keys, she moved to the shop door only to find it slightly open. Pushing the worn wood door wide, she stepped inside to find Aislinn rinsing her brushes in the small kitchen at the back of the gallery. Her mass of curls was piled on top of her head and she glanced back at Morgan with an easy smile.

  "Morning," she said.

  "Good morning. Your paintings are beautiful. Please tell me that you aren't still up from working on them?" Morgan asked as she moved further into the shop to stand beside Aislinn.