by Bianca D'Arc
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Maribeth Carmichael. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Wild Irish remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Maribeth Carmichael, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Wild Irish Rose
by
Bianca D’Arc
Dedication
I would just like to thank my friend, Mari Carr, for writing such a beautiful world and inviting me to play in it for a little while. Luckily, the Irish music scene is one I have intimate knowledge of from my own experience, and Roisin may (or may not) be an amalgamation of friends I knew when I was younger, who were brought up in the biz.
I hope to write more of these kinds of stories and, in fact, I’ve got plans for a series of stories based in and around the Irish music scene on Long Island that I’m going to call Irish Lullaby. While they’re not quite ready as of this publication (in April of 2017), I hope to have that series up and running within the next year or so.
As always, my work is dedicated to my family—and in this case, my childhood friends who taught me all I know about Irish music and culture. They taught me about heartbreak and joy, sorrow and happiness. I hope my attempt to portray a small part of that world captures the true spirit of it in the way I intended. Thanks for reading. Sláinte!
Chapter One
Roisin O’Connor walked into Pat’s Irish Pub on an unseasonably chilly late-March day. It had been a year since she’d last been there, but the place still looked and felt exactly the same. It was homey and welcoming, much like the family who owned and operated the place.
Hunky Tristan waved to her from where he was restocking a few of the top-shelf liquor bottles in preparation for the evening. She’d had the hots for Tristan since the first time she met him, but nothing had ever come of it, and now, he was married. Off the market and, by all accounts, happy with his new wife. Or so his sister, Keira, had told Roisin when she’d called about this weekend’s booking.
Roisin hadn’t been back to Pat’s Pub since last year around this time, when she’d been booked as the special entertainment for a pre-St. Pat’s party. That night had turned into one she’d never forget because she’d met a guy. A man like no other she’d ever met before.
They’d spent one wild night of passion together, but they’d both had to leave in the morning—he to an overseas deployment, and she back home to New York. They’d been ships passing in the night, but she’d never forgotten him.
She’d never done a one-night-stand before or since, despite the rather loose reputation many of her fellow musicians had earned. Roisin was much more circumspect. She’d dated one respectable guy at a time for years, but she’d been coming off a bad breakup when she’d crossed paths with Lieutenant James Bowan, US Navy, and she had succumbed to the temptation of a night in his strong arms, all too easily.
She’d felt a bit tawdry the next day, if she was being honest with herself, but that same honesty demanded that she acknowledge no regrets. She’d had one hell of a night with a handsome man who had treated her right. She always sort of suspected that, if circumstances had been different, they might’ve started dating—even though he was a Baltimore native and she a Long Island girl. They could’ve probably found some way to make it work. Maybe.
But as things stood, he’d had to go back to the Navy and she back to her life. Perhaps it was better this way. She had good memories of her walk on the wild side, and maybe…just maybe…he thought of her fondly whenever he heard an Irish tune.
Keira caught sight of her at that moment, bringing Roisin’s thoughts of last year to an abrupt end. The next hour was spent setting up her gear and getting ready for the night ahead. She had a set list, which included some special requests, and she did a quick sound check to be sure all was well before ducking out to dress and put on her stage makeup, which was only a bit heavier than the little she wore normally.
With her fair complexion, it was too easy to go overboard, yet she needed some color on her cheeks to counteract the harsh stage lighting. It was a delicate balance she’d learned years ago—the fine line between looking good on stage and looking like a cheap hooker. She had a couple of nice dresses in her minivan, still in the dry cleaner’s wrapping. They’d have to do for the weekend, since the rest of her wardrobe was at home.
She was here to play at a party the next day, but she’d managed to book two nights at Pat’s to round out her trip. No sense traveling all this way and not making the most of her time. She liked Baltimore. It had a good vibe and great people. Whenever she was down this way, she always stopped in at Pat’s, and she’d known the family for at least a decade.
That’s what happened when you grew up in the Irish music scene. Roisin’s father was in the music business, too, and she’d learned everything from him. He’d let her join his band for gigs when she was just a teenager, and she’d started doing her solo acoustic sets around the time she’d graduated from high school. She’d made something of a name for herself among Irish music fans in the States. Her pure tones didn’t need a big band behind them. Her voice was strong enough to stand on its own, with just a piano or guitar backing it—both of which she played.
It was a bit of a rarity, her one-woman show, but it also meant that she got to keep all the profits. If she’d had a big band like her dad’s, she would have had to pay everybody, which definitely ate into the profits. Her father had encouraged her to go out on her own and take as many of the solo gigs as she could book, though she always had a spot on his bandstand, if she wanted it. Her dad was a generous soul like that.
Stopping at the bar to get a few bottles of ice cold water, she made her way to the small bandstand to get things started. The crowd was still a little light, but the place would fill up soon enough. It was time to get the show on the road.
Lieutenant Commander Jim Bowman walked into Pat’s Pub to meet some friends and promptly stopped short. That voice. Could it be?
He cast his eye out over the thick crowd around the small bandstand, and sure enough, there in the spotlight was Roisin. The girl who had haunted his dreams for an entire year.
He’d never thought he’d see her again, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about encountering her now. Should he go up and talk to her? Would she even remember him? He certainly hoped so, but he wasn’t sure. It had been a year ago, and a lot had happened since.
He’d been promoted and served a year abroad. He’d only recently returned to the States, and he had a big decision to make—whether to re-up for another stint in Uncle Sam’s Navy or retire to civilian life. He honestly had no idea what to do, and he had to make his decision soon.
The last time Jim had seen the lovely Roisin, he’d been home on leave and she’d just been visiting Baltimore to play a gig. Someone had invited her down, paying her to appear at Pat’s Pub for a party they were hosting.
She was a musician, a gifted singer who specialized in music from the Emerald Isle. She was also—as far as Jim was concerned—the one who got away. Barely a day had gone by since that wild night a year ago when he hadn’t thought about her. And now, she was here.
Someone entered the pub behind him and slapped him on the back. His friend, Bill, from work had arrived with two others of their group. This was supposed to be a team-building evening spent with coworkers in a non-formal atmosphere. He wondered what his colleagues would think if they realized he was mooning over the gorgeous songstress, and judged it was probably best to
keep that information to himself. At least for now.
Jim followed his friends toward a table in the back with a good view of the bandstand, but not too close. Lydia, the newest member of their team, had snagged the table and already ordered the first round, so all Jim was required to do was say hello, sit down and grab a beer. Thank goodness. He’d been struck momentarily dumb by the shock of finding Roisin back in town and singing in the pub. He’d thought about her so often, but he’d almost begun to believe she couldn’t have been as beautiful or as gifted as he remembered.
He was glad to learn she was. She was everything he remembered and more. She’d matured a little in the year they’d been apart. Her cheeks were a little sharper, her bone structure more defined. Her hair was still the same lustrous dark brown, but cut in a slightly different style. Her dark blue eyes flashed in the stage lights, and her creamy skin looked just as delicious. What he wouldn’t give to taste her again…
Chapter Two
“Earth to Jim,” said the man to his right.
Rico and he were the same rank, but they’d only just met when Jim had come back to the States. It had been Rico’s idea to go out for drinks so the team could get to know the two newbies in their midst—Jim and the young ensign, Lydia—who had recently been assigned to their work group.
“Sorry, Rico. What were you saying?” Jim tried to get his head in the game. He didn’t want his coworkers to think he was a flake.
“We’d heard you ran into a shit storm in Afghanistan. Any truth to that rumor?” Rico was treading close to being rude, but Jim didn’t mind. He’d fielded questions about his time overseas from more intimidating men than him.
“It’s not as glamorous as you probably heard. Just a case of being in the wrong place at one hell of a wrong time.” Jim saw the interested looks on the faces of his new colleagues and knew he’d have to give them a bit more of the tale. “I deployed with an investigative unit looking into certain allegations that proved to be false. Turns out, it was all a ruse to get some officers out into the open where remnants of the Taliban could take potshots at us. The firefight didn’t last long, but it was a pretty intense few minutes. Gave me new respect for the combat vets we deal with, I can tell you that much.”
Jim and his fellow officers were all part of the JAG Corps. They were military lawyers. Not people who usually saw action outside of a courtroom, but they were all trained to deal with whatever faced them. Jim had been glad of his weapons training that day, and he’d acquitted himself well according to the after-action reports.
Still, the incident had made a lasting impression on him. Did he really want to work in a place where there was every likelihood that he could be shot at? Or did he want to use his legal skills to do what he’d always dreamed—helping the less fortunate among the population of his hometown? When he looked at it in those terms, the decision seemed pretty clear, but he still hesitated.
The Navy was all he’d known for a long time. They’d put him through law school and sent him around the world. It had been a great life, but just lately, he’d found himself wanting more. Ever since last year, in fact, when he’d first crossed paths with the songbird, Roisin. Something about that night with her had changed him in a profound way that he still didn’t fully understand.
His Aunty Maeve had noticed right off, when he’d gone to visit her. The family all believed she was psychic or something, but Jim wasn’t sure. He’d seen a lot of things all over the world, but he didn’t know if he could actually believe his little old aunty had second sight. Still, she was unusually sensitive to other people’s emotions. Empathic? Maybe he could believe that a little easier than the other.
She’d known that something about him was different. She hinted at knowing about the big decision he face, and while she hadn’t gone so far as to tell him what to do, she had reassured him that things would work out as they should. She was a big believer in fate, was his aunty.
He’d left her with a promise to come visit again. She’d smiled, her blue eyes twinkling as she told him to bring his girl with him next time. Now, Aunty Maeve knew full well that Jim wasn’t dating anyone right now. He’d only just arrived back in the States after a year away. He’d given her a puzzled look, to which she only laughed and told him to trust in what fate set before him.
He thought about her words, now, as he gazed across the room to the bandstand where his songbird was wrapping up another tune. She really had the most amazing voice. She looked like an angel too. And he knew for a fact that she was a wild woman in bed. She matched him…and dared him…and made him want to walk on the wild side with her. Always.
Could Aunty Maeve had known fate would bring the woman he couldn’t forget back into his life this way?
Nah. Couldn’t be. But yet…
He thought back on his aunt’s words. She’d told him to trust what fate set before him. Well, Roisin was certainly set before him, up on a pedestal, so to speak, sitting on the small bandstand with her instruments around her. Like she was offered up on a silver platter, sparkling in the stage lights.
Jim decided, then and there, that he wouldn’t leave here tonight without at least talking to her. He couldn’t. If only just to have her smile at him and to look into her eyes at close range… It was something he had to do.
He watched her closely as she finished her first set. Was there a man waiting for her? Was she involved with somebody else? Was she wearing a ring on her left hand?
She left the stage after putting her instruments aside with loving care. A flip of a switch and background music was piped in over the speakers in the ceiling as the applause died down for Roisin. She picked up an empty water bottle and headed toward the bar. As she passed his table—not too close, but close enough for him to see the hand carrying the water bottle—he had his answer to a least one of his questions. She wasn’t wearing a ring.
Of course, that wasn’t conclusive evidence. Jim noticed the way she went up to the bar and returned the empty plastic bottle, reaching for another that the bartender set before her. Was she smiling at the bartender? Were they involved?
No. The bartender was merely being friendly, not flirty. And he was wearing a wedding ring.
“She’s a beautiful girl,” Rico said, leaning in to speak near Jim so the others couldn’t really hear.
A quick glance showed they were all talking amongst themselves anyway. While Jim had been watching Roisin, the conversation at the table had gone on without him.
“I haven’t seen her here before,” Rico went on when Jim didn’t respond.
“She’s not a regular in this pub. At least she wasn’t last time I was here,” Jim supplied, figuring that was innocuous enough.
“You’ve been here before? I thought you just got posted here after your overseas stint.” Rico looked suspicious. Or maybe just intrigued.
“That’s true, but I’m from Baltimore. My folks live here. I spend my off-duty time at home, and when I’m home, I come here occasionally.” Simple enough, really, but Rico still looked like he wanted to know more. Damned inquisitive lawyers.
“So, you know the lady?” Rico asked, a smile on his face that Jim wanted to wipe off with his fist. But that wouldn’t be a smart way to get off to a good start with his new colleagues. He refrained.
“We’ve met,” Jim said finally, after a significant pause in which he hoped Rico got the message that he wasn’t about to tolerate any interference with Roisin, or more prying into Jim’s personal life.
“So, that’s why you wanted to come to this bar,” Rico said, as if he’d just gotten a witness he was cross-examining to admit to something heinous.
“I didn’t know she’d be here,” Jim blurted, realizing too late that he was giving himself away. Rico must be a better lawyer than Jim had thought, getting Jim to admit things like that.
Rico looked at Jim, then over to the bar where Roisin was chatting with one of the waitresses and back again. “It’s fate then.”
“Fate?” Jim echoed. T
here was that word again.
“My abuela would say it’s fate that brought you both here tonight. Then, she’d push you to go say hello to the girl and start making babies.” Rico laughed, and Jim was startled enough to join in. “Hey, my grandmother loves kids,” Rico explained as he drained his beer. “She’s always pushing us to settle down and make babies for her to spoil. Plus, she’s a little psychic.”
“Psychic? Really?” Jim tried not to sound too skeptical. He didn’t want to outright insult his new work colleague. But Rico laughed again as he stood to go to the bar.
“Hey, don’t knock it. She’s been right about stuff more times than anyone I know. Either she’s lived long enough to have figured out how things are going to happen, or she really does have the third eye.” Rico pitched his voice to capture the attention of the junior officers at the table. He was buying the next round and roped the young ensign into going up to the bar with him so they could carry it all back in one trip.
Meanwhile, Jim thought about what the other man had said about his supposedly psychic grandmother and her belief in fate. It was like Aunty Maeve was sitting on his shoulder, telling him he had to get a move on, already.
Jim resolved he would. He’d talk to Roisin as soon as there was a good opportunity. Her break was coming to an end, so she’d be on the bandstand for another set soon. Not enough time to speak to her now. Besides, he had to talk to his colleagues a bit—otherwise, what was the point of going out tonight?
Plan set, he settled down and made polite conversation with the lieutenant seated across from him. He was making friends with his new team, but his mind was only half-focused on them. The other half kept track of Roisin when she started singing again. It was like she’d put a spell on him last year, and it was coming back into play now that he was again in her presence, but Jim didn’t mind at all. His songbird could sing to him forever, and he’d never tire of it.
