Chapter One
Regret was a persistent thing that gnawed at Aaron O’Malley’s gut. Mixed with grief, it created a poisonous combination that he wasn’t sure he’d ever shake off. He’d missed his grandfather’s funeral four years ago and would never forgive himself for that. Yet knowing the old man had died thinking Aaron didn’t care about him was worse.
His jaw clenched, he unlocked the door to the cabin on the banks of Lough Glass in County Cork that he’d inherited from his grandfather. The musty, damp smell from inside hit him with an accusation of neglect.
A fallen tree branch had smashed the roof, dead branches reaching into the room like skeletal arms. Discolored curtains hung from the windows, and rotting paper and scraps of cloth lay among the dead leaves littering the wood plank floor.
This was a far cry from the safe, homey place he remembered from when he was young. It had been paradise during the summer when he escaped from Dublin to spend the school vacation here, helping his granddad with his boat rental business.
In his darkest moments during the past six years while he worked undercover investigating Dublin’s notorious drug lords, Aaron had fantasized about this place, remembering it as a haven where he didn’t need to worry if the next person he met was going to kill him.
Finally the police operation was over. Last night his boss had ordered him out of Dublin until they finished making arrests. Aaron had stuffed a few things in a bag, jumped in his car and driven, instinct bringing him here. Like a wounded animal, he returned to a place he felt safe—but the safe place he remembered was gone.
Ignoring the scuttling rodents, Aaron wandered inside the run-down cabin. He brushed aside cobwebs and peered out the dirty window to the wooden dock that used to be lined with the boats his grandfather rented out. The boats were long gone, as was anything else of value his granddad had left him.
The stained floorboards creaked under his feet as he peered up at the blue summer sky through the holes in the roof. It would take a lot of work to patch up the cabin, but that was the least he could do to honor the old man.
He lifted a picture frame down from the wall and wiped mildew off the glass with a corner of the curtains. It showed his granddad standing outside the cabin, his pipe clamped between his teeth, his face a smiling mass of wrinkles beneath a wild mop of gray hair. The sign O’Malley’s Boat Rentals hung on the wall behind him. A ten-year-old Aaron stood on one side of the old man while Aaron’s best friend, Jamie Flannigan, was on the other.
In front of them, Ewan Flannigan stood holding his guitar, and little Fiona Flannigan crouched with her head cocked to one side, aiming a cheeky grin at the camera. His granddad always said she’d grow up to be a heartbreaker, and he hadn’t been wrong. Even when she was a kid, she’d had a way about her that enchanted people.
Unclipping the back of the frame, Aaron extracted the photo and tucked it in the pocket of his jeans. Then he wandered outside and grabbed a breath of clean air as the breeze scattered ripples across the surface of the lough and set the reeds dancing.
He strolled along the wooden dock, carefully testing the boards for strength, imagining the ghosts of the boats that had once been moored here. Now a solitary fisherman’s rowing boat was tied at the end. Aaron crouched and rested a hand on the edge of the boat, feeling it rock gently on the ripples, the movement bringing back so many memories.
He stood, tucked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, and swept his gaze across the familiar vista of Lough Glass and the surrounding countryside. Before him were tiny inlets with small beaches, rocky outcrops, verdant green fields, patches of woodland, and the cluster of houses that marked the village of Foxbridge across the other side of the water. Swallows swooped and dipped, sipping from the water’s surface while gulls soared high, calling to each other against the clear blue sky.
How he loved this place, and how he’d missed it. Why had he let his father talk him out of taking over the boat rental business? If only he could go back in time and change his decision, his life would be different.
His mobile phone vibrated in his pocket, and he sighed at the sight of his boss’s name on the screen. He put the phone to his ear and rubbed his neck as he answered a string of questions about the undercover operation.
“Keep your phone on you all the time. We’re likely to have lots of things we need to check with you,” his boss said.
“Yeah, I know the drill.” Aaron cut the call and pushed his phone back in his pocket with a sick feeling in his gut. After sacrificing six years of his life to the investigation, he wanted the scum off the streets, but he’d be at risk of reprisals when he returned to Dublin to testify.
With a sigh, he pushed the thought away. There would be plenty of time to worry about that when it happened. Right now he needed to find somewhere to stay. Swinging around, he gazed up the hill, over the bushy treetops to the crenellated battlements of Ballyglass Castle where the Flannigans lived.
It would be great to see Jamie again and hang out with him like they did when they were kids. Was Fiona as beautiful as he remembered? And more to the point, would she send him packing for being a jerk and breaking her heart?
*
Fiona Flannigan sat on the side of her bed and stared at the rejection letter from the bank with a sinking feeling. She wasn’t asking for a fortune. Why couldn’t they see the potential of Ballyglass Wishes and offer her a loan? She’d given them plenty of examples of how popular wishing jars were, and her business plan showed the profit forecast was good.
She folded the letter and dropped it in the top drawer of the small desk under the window with all the other rejections. Twitching the mouse to wake her computer, she stared at the list of potential lenders she’d drawn up. There was one left she hadn’t approached, a company she’d left until last because the interest rate was high.
The completed application form was already in an envelope with her business plan. She kissed the back of the envelope for luck, then stuck a stamp on it and went downstairs to put it on the hall table for the mailman to take.
Waiting was terrible—not as bad as the rejections, of course, but waiting for weeks for replies drove her crazy when she had so many plans she longed to put into action. The only way she coped was to stay busy.
If she couldn’t expand her business, at least she could make the most of the business as it was. She paced through the kitchen and mud room and out the back door of Ballyglass Castle, hurrying along the path past flower beds overflowing with vibrant colors and buzzing bees, to the small barn that housed her existing Ballyglass Wishes workshop.
She paused on the threshold of the wooden building, a smile pulling at her lips. How she loved this place. Stepping in here always gave her a thrill, like a child on Christmas morning going down to see what Santa Claus had left under the tree. The only thing that could make it better was if the workshop was about four times the size.
Wooden shelves lined one side, laden with boxes of the whimsical ingredients she offered her customers to fill their wishing jars. Feathers, crystals, silk flowers, lace, ribbons, tiny horseshoes, sparkles in many shapes, old-fashioned buttons, silk butterflies, fairies, leprechauns, strings of pearls and jewels, and many other treasures filled the boxes. And there was a container full of tiny pieces of colored paper on which people wrote their wishes.
Heaped by the door were boxes of large, medium, and small mason jars in a variety of colors. Many of the tourists who visited Ballyglass Castle to make wishing jars and walk the wishing trail liked the glass jars tinted blue, purple, yellow, or green, although Fiona preferred working with clear glass so the content of the jar was visible.
When Fiona was stressed or anxious, nothing distracted her and soothed her nerves like putting together a wishing jar. This morning, she didn’t hesitate over which size jar to grab. She definitely needed a large jar to distract her from the muddled thoughts churning around in her head.
She deposited the jar at one of the workstations with its rack cont
aining all the tools she’d need. Then she picked up a basket and wandered along the shelves of decorations, selecting cream lace, pink gauze, mother of pearl buttons, cream silk roses with a pink blush, baby blue satin ribbon, a moonstone, a mournful fairy dressed in silver, a heart-shaped piece of rose quartz, and silver and gold sparkles in the shape of horseshoes, stars, and hearts.
As Fiona set her basket on the workbench and sat on the tall stool, her tabby cat, Merlin, trotted in the open door. He meowed and jumped up on the far end of the work bench, almost floating in the air as if he could defy gravity. Tail raised like a banner, he tiptoed along the length of the bench, his enigmatic green eyes fixed on her.
There had always been something superior about Merlin—as if he were an old soul who knew mysterious secrets, and he was waiting patiently for her to catch on. But he was devoted to her. Wherever she went, he followed, and she had adored him from the first moment she cuddled the tiny bundle of fur on her sixteenth birthday.
“Come to help me?” She smoothed a hand over his back and rubbed behind his ears until he leaned his head into her palm and purred. “I expect you’d like me to stroke you all day, but I have work to do.”
The stock of prefilled wishing jars was low after a busload of tourists had visited yesterday. The tour guide hadn’t scheduled enough time for everyone to make their own wishing jars, so most people had bought the premade ones before they walked the wishing trail to make their wishes.
Merlin lay stretched out on the wooden bench, eyes narrowed, the tip of his tail flicking while he soaked up the sun streaming in through the window. Fiona leaned down and kissed the top of his head, breathing in his adorable furry fragrance before she turned back to her work.
Rolling her eyes, she assessed what she’d picked up. Pink and cream, lace and silk flowers, hearts and stars—it wasn’t hard to guess what was on her mind. Romance. And all because her brother Jamie had mentioned that Aaron O’Malley might visit.
Fiona tried not to think about Aaron, and most of the time she succeeded. As the years passed, she’d dated other men and it had become easier to crush down the memories of Aaron and ignore the deep ache of longing. Sometimes weeks passed without her thinking about him at all. Never again would she go all soft and mushy over that man. He didn’t deserve it.
Despite her little pep talk, she’d been in a spin ever since her brother mentioned him. She’d tried on three dresses this morning and taken extra care with her hair and makeup, and she was angry with herself for bothering. She had more important things to think about. If Aaron was interested in her, he wouldn’t have stayed away for ten years. Just because he’d given her a kitten and kissed her on her sixteenth birthday did not amount to a declaration of love.
Fiona had wasted enough of her life dreaming about Aaron O’Malley. She was not a naive girl any longer. She was a businesswoman well used to rejection with her feet firmly on the ground.
Wrapping the lace around the jar, Fiona snipped off the length and glued the fabric in place. Then she pushed the shiny gauze into the jar and dropped the crystals and sparkles onto it. She nestled the pretty, old-fashioned buttons among the gauze, added some tiny silk roses, and placed the fairy in the middle. Then she finished off the jar with the satin ribbon around the top and a spray of silk roses on the lid. Whoever bought the jar could write their wish on a tiny piece of paper, and it would be rolled and slipped inside.
The rumble of male voices in the distance jolted Fiona out of her wishing-jar daze, and she stared at the open doorway. Despite her resolution to treat Aaron O’Malley just like any other friend of her brothers, her heart fluttered and bumped around like a fairy trapped in a jar.
She drew in a long, calming breath and released it slowly, her emotions a tangle of sparkly hope, silky imaginings, and feathery wishes, just like the contents of a wishing jar.
Her brother Jamie’s tall, lean frame filled the doorway, blocking the light for a moment before he stepped inside. Then Aaron followed, like a vision from her dreams. He was thirty now, tall, muscular, and broad shouldered. In the last ten years he’d turned from a boy to a man, and the mature look suited him.
When Aaron flashed the crooked grin that filled her memories, her pulse raced, making it difficult to breathe. He rested a hand on the door frame, his biceps bunching beneath the tight sleeve of his T-shirt. Faded jeans clung to his hips, and his thick dark hair was shorter than she remembered. He looked good. Far too good.
“Hi,” he said, strolling towards her. “It’s great to see you again.” He leaned close to kiss her cheek.
Fiona’s eyelids fell and she inhaled his unique masculine smell, savoring the firm touch of his hand on her shoulder and the brush of his stubbly cheek against hers.
“I’ve missed you, kitten. Did you miss me?” he said softly.
Fiona trembled inside with a mixture of yearning and anger. Had she missed him? Stupid question.
He withdrew a short distance, still holding her shoulder, his brown eyes deep and dark, a question in their depths.
She wished she could act cool and say she hadn’t missed him. Instead all she could do was nod as her throat was so tight, she feared her voice would come out as a squeak.
“We’ll all have plenty of time to catch up,” Jamie said. “Aaron needs a place to stay for a few weeks, and I told him he could bunk with us. We have a vacant room, don’t we, Fi?”
Fiona tore her gaze from Aaron and stared at her brother, a shot of panic going through her. She wasn’t as immune to Aaron as she’d like. The last thing she wanted was to have him under the same roof twenty-four/seven. “It’s summer. You know the rooms are all booked. This is our peak time for tourists.”
Jamie shrugged. “No worries. Aaron can stay in my room. We’ll put up one of the extra beds for him.”
“Great. Thanks, mate,” Aaron said. “It’ll be just like old times.”
That’s what Fiona was worried about.
Chapter Two
“Well, mate.” Jamie slapped Aaron on the shoulder and grinned. “It’s great you’re here, but I have to finish mowing the lawn. Fiona handles the rooms, so I’ll leave you in her capable hands.”
Aaron focused his gaze on Fiona and decided he’d rather enjoy being in her capable hands. Either she’d grown more beautiful since he last saw her, or his memory hadn’t done her justice.
Jamie’s boots thumped on the wooden floorboards as he headed out, then silence descended on the room.
“I won’t be long,” Fiona said, her voice high and brittle. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll show you where Jamie’s room is.”
“No hurry.” Aaron remembered the location of Jamie’s room, but he was more than happy to watch Fiona while she finished up with her craft stuff. She tied another ribbon around the top of the jar she was decorating. Her slender hands and tanned arms moved with confidence as she tweaked the flowers and bows until she was satisfied.
He’d forgotten how stunning she was. She wasn’t just pretty; it was as if she had an aura of energy around her that mesmerized him and drew him in like a trout on a line. In the heat of the airless wooden building, sweat prickled Aaron’s skin, and he stepped closer to Fiona.
During the bleak times while he was working undercover, he’d struggled to remember the good times he’d spent here. Now memories flooded back. Aaron rested a hand on the sun-warmed wooden workbench, and the cat wandered closer and rubbed its head on his arm. “Hey there, kitty. What’s your name?”
“You don’t recognize him?” Disappointment tinged Fiona’s voice.
Aaron concentrated on the cat, noting the green eyes and the tiger-stripe pattern on its fur. A flash of intense emotion passed through him, remorse mixed with longing. “It’s the kitten I gave you, isn’t it?”
That day flashed back in his mind—her sixteenth birthday party, the music, the dancing, the kiss. That whole summer had been building up to that moment and he was nearly crazy with desire for her, hormones clouding his judgment. But
she was too young for him. Her father had warned him off, and looking back, that had been wise.
The only way Aaron could maintain his sanity was to get away from her. So he’d left, promising to return when she was older. Then life happened and too many years passed. Now here they were.
“Do you think he remembers me?” he asked.
“I doubt it.” Fiona turned her gaze on him, and the simmering hurt in her blue eyes stabbed him in the chest.
“He’s ten. That’s a long time for a cat.” A long time for her, too, hung unspoken in the air between them.
She slipped off the high stool and sashayed across the room in her wedge-heeled sandals. The skirt of her blue-and-yellow summer dress swung around her tanned legs as she walked and Aaron followed, that invisible thread pulling him after her, helpless to resist.
“So, what are all these jars for?”
“I sell them.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, then added her jar to a display set out for sale. “When Dad died, we nearly lost the castle. We had to come up with ways to make money. Jamie suggested we open the spare bedrooms for bed and breakfast, Ewan holds folk music festivals in the grounds twice a year, and I came up with the idea of the wishing trail.”
She waved her arm towards the door. “You remember the winding garden path in the old walled garden? Well, we made a feature of it. Now it’s a tourist attraction. We have busloads of tourists come to make wishing jars and walk the wishing trail. I’ll show you sometime. Now we’d better get you settled in.”
The soft tone of her voice and the way her long silky hair slid over her shoulders as she angled her head mesmerized Aaron. She had changed in the last ten years. She was more confident and curvy—more desirable than ever.
