Kellan

by Kate Hoffmann

  Gelsey felt her anger rise. She didn’t owe him any explanations. She shouldn’t be forced to admit all the mistakes she’d made in her life, especially not to a man she’d only known for a week. “What do you want me to say? I’m married. I’m engaged. I’ve slept with hundreds, no, thousands of men. I’ve danced naked for strangers…and money. I’ve tried every illicit drug known to mankind. And I’m really a man trapped in a woman’s body.”

  “Is any of that true?” Kellan asked.

  “No. Aren’t you glad it isn’t? The truth is much less interesting. And if you really cared about me, it wouldn’t matter.”

  He circled the bed and sat down beside her. “You’re afraid,” he said. “You’re afraid that I’ll find something about you that I don’t like.”

  “No,” Gelsey said. “I just don’t care about who you were before we met. That part of your life didn’t involve me. Our lives began that morning on the beach. We’re like…goldfish.”

  “Goldfish?”

  “They live completely in the moment. If you watch a fish in a bowl, by the time he gets across the bowl, he’s forgotten where he was. It doesn’t matter to him.”

  “That’s bollocks,” Kellan muttered. “I don’t live like a feckin’ fish. I’m willing to take the good with the bad. If we don’t start to be honest with each other, then we don’t have any chance to make this work.”

  “You want to make this work? What does that mean? It already works. If you try any harder, you might wreck it.”

  “Maybe so. But this is it, Gelsey. This is the deal breaker. I need some answers.”

  She considered his demand for a long moment, then nodded. “Have you ever played the game Twenty Questions? It’s a game I used to play with my nanny.”

  “You had a nanny?” Kellan asked.

  “Yes. Her name was Marie and she was French. She’s the one who taught me how to speak French. My mother thought it was important. That’s one question. And I’m only giving you five. So you have four left.”

  “What’s your name?” Kellan asked.

  “I’m Gelsey Evangeline Woodson. I’m named after my mother’s favorite ballet dancer and my father’s favorite poem.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “I have no idea,” Gelsey said. “My mother is probably in New York. And the last time I heard, my father was in Hong Kong. We don’t really communicate. They have their lives and I have mine.” She sent him a sideways glance. “See. Some of the answers aren’t very pretty. My parents divorced when I was eight and sent me off to boarding school. I used to come to Ireland every summer to stay with my grandmother at Winterhill, her house.”

  “Boarding school?”

  “Yes. And that’s four. In Switzerland. It’s as awful as it sounds. I was lonely and homesick and I had trouble making friends. Last question.”

  Kellan considered his options silently. “I think I’ll save my last question,” he said.

  “You can’t. It’s against the rules. You have to ask me now or lose the question.”

  “This game has rules?” Kellan chuckled. “Doesn’t that go against the whole ‘living for the moment’ thing? Why not seven questions? Or eleven? Who cares how many questions were asked in the past? I say that we should play with forty-six questions. Just to live in the moment.”

  “Ask your last question,” she said, bristling at the sarcasm in his voice. “Or don’t.” Gelsey crawled out of bed and picked up her clothes from the floor. She tugged on her shirt without putting on a bra, then pulled on her jeans. “I think I’m going to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Home,” she said. “And that’s your last question.” She brushed past him. She found her boots at the door and slipped her bare feet inside, then put on her jacket. But by the time she opened the door, Kellan was beside her, pushing it shut again.

  “Don’t go,” he murmured.

  “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to fight with you.” This was all so familiar, she mused. It had happened with every man she’d ever known. Accusations, recriminations. Why did every man have to dwell in the past?

  “I’m sorry. It’s just difficult for me.”

  “Why? It’s so easy. We know how we feel, right now, in the moment. And in a few minutes, it will all be forgotten.”

  “Is that the way it works? You’ll forget that I’ve been a bloody caffler?”

  “I don’t even know what that is,” Gelsey said.

  “An arse of the highest order. An eejit. A proper prick.”

  She smiled. “Yes, I believe the description suits you quite well.”

  He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her, lingering over her mouth until she parted her lips. The kiss was perfectly executed to make her forget the argument they’d just had and by the end of it, Gelsey was convinced.

  “Stay with me,” he murmured. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “If I stay, no more questions.”

  “No more questions.”

  “All right. I’ll stay.”

  Kellan picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, then carried her into the bedroom. “Gelsey Evangeline Woodson,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “I like that.”

  “My friends used to call me Gigi,” she said. “But I hate that name now.”

  “I like Gels,” he said. “Will that do?”

  6

  KELLAN STRODE INTO the Hound, searching the dimly lit interior as he walked to the bar. Overnight, the place had been decorated for the holidays with twinkling garlands draped from every spot possible and a Christmas tree sitting in the corner.

  But there was something a bit nicer about it all, he mused as he took it all in, he could see Jordan and Nan’s influence on the family business already. Kellan recognized his brother’s Christmas CD playing over the sound system.

  Riley was washing glasses and nodded at him as he approached. “Big brother, what are you about on this fine day?”

  “The place looks grand,” Kellan said. “Very festive. But the music is crap.”

  Riley chuckled. “Thanks. I’ll let the management know.”

  “Have you seen Gelsey? I stopped up at the cottage to pick her up and she wasn’t there.”

  “She’s over at the church. The ladies’ guild is meeting this afternoon and they asked if she might come and speak to them.”

  “About what?”

  “I guess what it’s like to be a mermaid?”

  Kellan ground his teeth. “If I hear that mermaid shite once more, I swear, I’m going to pummel someone. It’s not funny anymore.”

  “She’s over there demonstrating something…something to do with kelp?” Riley chuckled. “I find it quite amusing that she gets you so riled up. I have precious little entertainment here in Ballykirk, but you’ve been providing more than enough these past couple of weeks.”

  “How would you feel if Nan went about telling everyone she’d once been a seal?”

  Riley thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “I see your point. But, hell, if it sold more Guinness at the pub, I’d be all for it. Who cares what a bunch of tourists believe? And I hear that business is booming at Maeve’s and she’s only been working there a week. Five customers yesterday. That’s more than Maeve used to have in a month.”

  “Well, the ladies’ guild isn’t a bunch of tourists.” Kellan pushed away from the bar and walked back outside, then headed toward the church, all the while thinking about what he was going to say to her. She’d told him the truth a week ago. He knew where she was from and how she grew up. He’d just assumed that the mermaid stories were finally going to stop, at least to the locals.

  The ladies were gathered in the meeting room of the church. Kellan threw open the doors only to be greeted by surprised silence and twenty or thirty pairs of inquisitive eyes.

  “Perfect!” Gelsey said. “You’re right on time.” She hurried up to Kellan and grabbed his arm, pulling him into the room. “Now, ladies, as I was saying, all th
ese products work just as well on men as they do on women. Many of your men are exposed to the elements every day in their work world and the skin can become wrinkled and leathery. It’s no good walking around town with a man who looks as if he’s twice your age, right?”

  This brought a chorus of approval from the women. Gelsey shoved Kellan into a chair. “What are you doing here?” he murmured.

  “A product demonstration,” she whispered. “If they won’t come to the shop, then the shop will go to them.” She turned back to the audience. “Now, the first thing we’ll begin with is this sea-salt exfoliator. We just apply this all over the face, with gentle fingers, avoiding the eyes, nostrils and mouth, of course.” She looked down at Kellan. “Tip your head back. You’ll like this.”

  “You’re not going to put that on my face,” he muttered.

  “Of course, Kellan, being the typical male, will probably resist. But it’s your job, ladies, to make this a pleasant experience. Put on some soft music, maybe dress a bit provocatively. And get close. Get very close.” She stepped over his lap, her legs on either side of his.

  “You’ll like this,” she whispered. “I promise.”

  Reluctantly, Kellan closed his eyes. Slowly, she began to massage the gritty cream into his face, her fingers dancing over his skin and smoothing across his forehead. After only a few seconds, he found himself relaxing, enjoying the touch of her hands.

  “This really can be quite sensual, ladies. So, I’d suggest that you reserve this treatment for a time when the two of you can truly appreciate all the benefits.”

  Kellan tried to keep his pulse from racing, but it was no use. Thankfully, the front of his jacket would cover any unexpected reaction, although from the way Gelsey was talking, that’s exactly what she was looking for.

  “Now, I have some lovely samples for all of you in these little gift bags and I want you all to try them on yourself and on your man. I’ve also included a sprig of mistletoe. I’m sure you know what to do with that. Remember, all our products are one hundred percent natural. No artificial colors or scents.”

  Kellan tried to look at her, but a tiny bit of salt dropped off his lashes, burning his eye. “Gels,” he murmured. “I think it’s time to get this off.” But from what he could hear, Gelsey had wandered off to talk to some of her potential customers and forgotten all about him. Kellan got to his feet and blindly searched for a towel to wipe his face. He banged into a table, then nearly tripped over a chair before he felt Gelsey’s hand on his arm.

  “Come on, then,” she said. “Sit down and I’ll finish your treatment.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he warned. “You’re not going to seduce me in the parish meeting room.”

  “I meant your facial treatment. It doesn’t always have to come with sex, you know.” She gently wiped the salt mixture from his face and he opened his eyes. “There you are,” she murmured. “Handsome as ever.” She bent closer and brushed a kiss across his lips.

  Kellan slipped his arms around her waist. “Did you really need to put that stuff on my face?”

  “I’m selling product,” she said. “If I’m going to take over Maeve’s store, I’m going to need to get out and stir up some business, especially from the ladies in the area. Regular customers are important. I’ve already lined up a presentation with the ladies’ group over in Glengarriff. Mrs. Murphy’s sister is on the program committee and they’re always looking for speakers. It would help if you’d come with me.”

  “You don’t need me,” he said. “I saw how you were with the ladies. You’re good at this, Gelsey. People like you.”

  “You really think so? You think I’m good?”

  Kellan nodded. The simple compliment brought a beautiful joy to her face. That’s all it took for him, he thought. As long as she was happy, so was he. Simple, but now he was beginning to understand her approach to life. Dwelling in the past only made the present miserable. She’d forgotten their argument minutes after it had happened and hadn’t brought it up since.

  “I’m not sure what my schedule is going to be like after the first of the year,” he said. “I’ve got to go back to work soon.”

  “Where?”

  “We bid on a museum project in France. In Brittany. I’m not sure we’re going to get it and-”

  “You’re going to France? For how long?”

  “We don’t have the job yet,” Kellan said. In truth, he wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore. Gelsey was here, in Ballykirk. And her plans to buy Maeve’s shop would keep her here. France was a long way from Ireland.

  He’d been thinking a lot about business. He had some savings and contacts with good investors. Maybe it was time to take that risk, to put his own cash behind a project and reap the profits. After all, Gelsey was used to a comfortable lifestyle. And he couldn’t really offer her as much doing just design and engineering on a project. He needed to make some real money.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “It will work itself out.” But as he reassured her, Kellan knew that it wouldn’t be so simple. He’d become accustomed to coming and going as he pleased, without a thought to anyone else’s feelings. If he and Gelsey were together, then all of that would change. His whole life would change.

  He watched as Gelsey packed her boxes and collected her papers. Already, he could see the changes in her. She was confident, so different from the nervous woman he’d sent off to her first day at work just a week ago. In truth, she seemed completely in her element.

  “Can I buy you lunch?” he asked.

  “I’m going to buy you lunch,” she said, waving a stack of cards at him. “I made over a hundred pounds in sales today.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

  “No, I want to. Maeve gave me an advance on my pay and I have just enough to buy you lunch. She’s been very pleased with my work. That’s important. I’m not sure she’d sell to someone who wasn’t passionate about the business.”

  Kellan helped her carry the boxes out to the battered Fiat. “You’re going to have to get yourself a better car,” he said.

  “I know. I’ve never had a car of my own. But there is a car at Winterhill. I’m not sure it runs anymore. It belonged to my grandmother.”

  “You could get it fixed,” he said. “I could help you out with that.”

  Gelsey opened the back hatch of the Fiat and put the box she carried inside. Kellan dropped his box next to the first and shut the hatch. But the catch didn’t always work and it took three tries before the hatch stayed closed. “Yeah, you definitely need a better car.”

  She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Have I told you what a good man you are?”

  “I believe you have,” Kellan said. “Usually in bed. I think this might be the first time outside the bedroom.”

  “I’ve never said that in the bedroom.”

  “Not in those exact words,” he said.

  “What words did I use?”

  “Little words,” Kellan teased. “Like…oh and…yes. And then sometimes you say my name over and over. I may be wrong, but I assumed you were telling me I was a good man.”

  Gelsey laughed. “You assumed right. But I think I need to say it out loud more often.” She tipped her face up to the sun. “Kellan Quinn is a very good man,” she shouted.

  “He’s a feckin’ gobshite.”

  The voice came from the direction of Danny’s smithy and Kellan shrugged. “I guess we have other opinions on the subject.”

  “That’s because they’ve never spent a night in bed with you,” Gelsey replied.

  “Actually, my brothers and I used to share a bed when we were little.”

  “You know what I mean,” Gelsey said.

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  THE LATE-AFTERNOON SUN shone through the plate-glass windows of Maeve Dunphrey’s shop, illuminating dust motes with every movement that Gelsey made. She pushed up on her tiptoes to grab a box from the top shelf of the old wooden wall displays, then carefully
made her way down the wobbly ladder.

  “Some of this stuff has to be forty years old,” she said, setting the box on the counter in front of her. “I suppose we should try to salvage some of these jars. They’re so pretty and, technically, they are vintage.”

  Jordan walked over and pulled a jar of lavender-scented lotion from the box. She screwed off the top and gave in a sniff before wrinkling her nose. “Yeah, this is pretty far gone. But the jar is lovely.”

  “I can go see if they have an old bucket at the Hound,” Nan offered. “We can dump the stuff in there and then put the jars through the pub’s dishwasher.”

  Gelsey nodded, grateful for the help that Nan and Jordan had offered. She’d spent a fair bit of her first week of work just cleaning, going through boxes and crates, discarding old inventory and taking stock of what was available in the store. When Nan and Jordan had stopped by a few days ago, they’d offered to help and had returned every afternoon since, making the job much more pleasant.

  Nan stood in the center of the sales floor, her hands hitched on her waist, and surveyed the nearly tidy shop. “It’s actually starting to look good,” she said. “All these old wooden cases look beautiful, once you can see them.”

  “Thank you so much for helping out,” Gelsey said. “You girls really didn’t need to do this.”

  “You helped paint my house,” Nan said.

  “And hopefully, you’ll be around when I have some tedious chore to do,” Jordan added. “Are you really thinking of buying this place?”

  Gelsey nodded. “Yes. I think I could make a success of it. There’s a little shop like this on the Rue des Arts in Paris and women flock to it. They send their empty jars from all over the world to get them refilled. I bought night cream from them all the time, even when I was living in Portugal with Antonio.”

  Nan and Jordan glanced at each other. “You lived in Portugal?”

  Gelsey blinked, surprised that she had been so honest with them. Over the past few days, they’d become good friends and she hadn’t thought to continue the pretense. And now, in a single unguarded moment, she’d given it all away. “That was a lifetime ago.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “It’s beautiful there. Very…sunny. Much like Spain. I lived there for a time, too.”