She visibly jumped, and he grinned. He’d forgotten how easy it was to startle her. He and Jamie used to do it on purpose all the time.
“That’s great.”
He thought she might comment on how many pages he had clutched in his hand; hoped she would, actually. He was proud he’d written twelve pages. But her gaze only grazed over the paper before she grabbed a lighter from the bench at her side and slid off the stool.
“Time to set those troubles free.”
He followed her back to the small courtyard garden behind the wishing barn. Brightly glazed pottery fragments and colored glass formed a swirling mosaic pattern in the wall that surrounded the circular space.
Fiona stopped beside the pot in the middle and put down the lighter on the plinth.
“It’s best to burn each sheet separately and make sure it completely turns to ash. Come back inside when you’re finished.”
He watched her go, surprised yet relieved she hadn’t stayed to watch. It wasn’t that he felt silly, but it was a bit odd to write stuff down and then burn it. Jamie would make fun of him if he found out.
Aaron scrunched the first sheet and dropped it in the pot, then lit a corner and watched the golden line of fire consume the white page, eating the words, leaving only delicate lacy ash that fell to dust.
As he burned the final page, he kept his eyes on his most troubling memory as the tiny flames destroyed it. He lifted the side of the pot and tipped it over, scattering the ash for the breeze to disperse.
Aaron blew out a breath that felt as though it was wrenched from the core of his being, leaving him hollow inside, but calmer. He didn’t kid himself that this was the solution to his problems, but it had definitely helped.
Chapter Six
Fiona came awake with a start in her dark bedroom. She pushed off her covers, restless in the heat. What had woken her? She listened for a moment before worries flooded back into her mind.
When she was busy during the day, she could forget how frustrating and disappointing the whole process of trying to get a loan was. When she was alone at night, the problem circled endlessly in her head, all her plans and dreams hanging on the approval of some faceless banker, or worse, a computer program that didn’t like the boxes she’d ticked on the application form.
Something fluttered on the edge of her vision, and she noticed the dark shape of a bat circling beneath her ceiling. There were lots of bats around here, and it wasn’t the first time one had found its way in through the open window at night.
She felt trapped like that bat, longing to fly out into the wide-open sky, yet forced to circle endlessly in a confined space. Why wouldn’t the stupid banks see what a gold-mine opportunity the wishing jar business was?
A door banged somewhere in the castle, halting her musings. Maybe a guest couldn’t sleep and wanted something. She kept a bell on the downstairs hall table for people to ring when they needed help, although the person might not like to disturb her at night.
Fiona slid out of bed and pulled a thin blue silk robe over her sleep shorts and top. Barefooted, she padded down the corridor and descended the stairs to the entrance hall. There was no sign of anyone. Maybe the sound had simply been someone going to the bathroom.
Now that she was up, she might as well have a glass of water. She headed for the kitchen and paused in the doorway. Aaron stood in front of the open refrigerator door, wearing nothing but white boxer briefs. She’d seen him in swim shorts years ago, but either she’d forgotten how toned he was or he’d been doing some serious working out. In the dark room, the fridge light sculpted him with light and shadow, making him look like a Greek god.
Fiona drew in a breath and held it, her heart racing, desire burning through her. She remembered the feel of his body against her when they’d danced years ago. She would love to refresh her memory.
Gathering her composure, she stepped into the room. “Hungry?”
Aaron’s head came up and he smiled. “Ah, caught raiding the fridge. Sorry.”
“Raid away. I don’t mind.” In fact, she was rather enjoying the view. “If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to some scones with cream and jam. I’ll put the kettle on for tea as well. I could do with a cuppa.”
Aaron chuckled and closed the fridge door. “If you think we’re properly dressed for tea and scones. Perhaps I should go and put on some more clothes.”
Fiona fought her grin. “Don’t worry on my account.”
“Naughty kitten,” he said, and her heart skipped a beat at the teasing sparkle in his eyes. It would be very easy to forget that he’d broken her heart and would likely do so again if she let him.
Pointedly turning her back on the delicious sight of Aaron almost naked, Fiona put on the kettle, prepared the teapot, and set some scones on a plate. “Will you get the milk and the thick cream out of the fridge, please?”
Aaron did as she asked, placing them on the kitchen table before sitting down. She added the plate of scones, a pot of jam, and the teapot and cups. It was oh so tempting to sit beside him, but she might end up on his lap if she did that. So she followed her head rather than her heart, and took a seat on the opposite side of the table.
“What woke you?” she asked as she poured out the tea.
He ran a hand over his jaw and glanced away. “I have nightmares sometimes.”
Fiona paused, the teapot above the second cup, and looked at him. “Are they to do with what you wrote in your pages a few days ago?”
He nodded and silently pulled the full teacup towards him to add milk.
Aaron hadn’t said much about what was troubling him. She knew in general, but not the specifics. She tried to imagine what it must be like working among criminals, and recalled newspaper reports on the Irish mafia and drug lords. That was a world she could barely relate to.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” He took a scone and slathered it with cream and jam, then took a bite. “Mmm.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “Very good.”
“Glad you like them.” A sense of satisfaction settled over Fiona. It was only a small thing, but if it made him feel better, she was pleased. He’d been so sweet with the wishing jar he’d started making after he wrote his pages. He’d chosen a blue jar because he said it was the same color as the lough when the sun was on the water. Although so far he’d only put an old photo in his jar.
“Sorry I woke you,” Aaron said.
Fiona shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m easily disturbed at the moment.”
“Something on your mind?”
She glanced at his biceps and naked chest, gulped too much tea, and burned her mouth. Sputtering, she ignored his knowing grin. “Just finances.”
“Want to talk about it?”
With an ironic smile, she acknowledged the way he’d turned her own words back on her.
“I applied for a loan to expand the wishing jar business. I’ve been selling them on eBay and from the Ballyglass Castle website, and they’re really popular. I have so many ideas for themed jars—horoscope jars, Christmas jars, Easter jars, and Halloween jars to name a few. There are so many opportunities. I need a bigger workshop and enough money to employ more staff. Then I can start selling the wishing jars wholesale. The trouble is the banks keep turning me down.”
“Try another bank.”
Fiona sighed, wishing it were that easy. “I’ve tried them all. Nobody will lend me more money because we already have a mortgage on the castle.”
He shoved the last piece of scone in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe I can guarantee the loan for you?”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not planning to default, are you?”
“Of course not.”
He shrugged. “Then what’s the problem? Let’s go to your regular bank in Cork tomorrow and see if we can persuade them to give you the money.”
*
Fiona should have known better than to get her hopes up over the wretched loan. Aaron
held open the bank door after their unsuccessful appointment, and she couldn’t wait to get out.
A tight knot of shame clenched in her chest, made worse because she felt bad for Aaron. He’d tried to help her, and the arrogant young man who’d assessed her application had virtually said that being an officer in the Garda wasn’t considered a worthy occupation.
She cast an evil glare at the front of the bank. When she did finally expand her wishing jar business and became hugely successful—and that would happen one day—she was going to move her account to another bank. Or maybe she would just stuff all her money under a mattress and give up on banks altogether.
Aaron’s hand settled on the small of her back, drawing her towards him, out of the way of the shoppers pushing past them.
He leaned closer. “Sorry to get your hopes up. I was sure they’d accept me.” He let out a grunt, half laugh, half groan. “Good way to be cut down to size.”
They shared a look, commiserating at their failure. Although the disappointment lingered, the pinch of shame at being rejected in such an offhand way eased. Being turned down together wasn’t nearly as bad as going through it alone.
A tourist banged Fiona’s bottom with a stuffed shopping bag, knocking her against Aaron. “Hey, careful.” He scowled at the careless woman and slipped his arm around Fiona’s waist protectively. Cork was bustling with visitors at this time of year, and they were out in force in the main shopping center.
“Let’s grab a coffee and walk along the river,” Aaron said. “Get away from all these people. I’ve had enough of cities to last me a lifetime.”
He was obviously referring to Dublin. Fiona cast him a curious sideways glance as he took her hand and led her down a narrow side street lined with quaint old-fashioned shops that sold handmade candy and other items the tourists loved. Was it possible he wouldn’t return to Dublin—or at least not permanently? A burst of hope left her lightheaded. Yet she mustn’t get her hopes up. She’d done that once and couldn’t put herself through the disappointment and heartbreak again.
They lined up for coffee, and Fiona ordered a skinny latte while Aaron asked for a cappuccino. Then they made their way along more narrow side streets, sipping through the plastic lids on their take-out cups.
The River Lee was hard to miss. One of the main landmarks of Cork, it flowed under twenty bridges as it passed through the city. The footpath widened, with only a few people strolling along in the sun. Aaron released her hand and rested his forearms on the railing.
She immediately missed his touch and the sense of closeness. It was nice to share something with Aaron for a while, but she wasn’t going to forget his track record. She’d learned the hard way not to depend on anyone except Jamie.
She rested her hand on the railing and sipped her coffee, pretending to take in the view of the river stretching into the distance and the multitude of bridges, old and new, when really she was watching Aaron.
He’d shaved before the bank appointment. It was the first time since he returned that she’d seen him without the dark shadow of stubble on his jaw. He looked more like the old Aaron from the past when he was clean shaven. The dark stubble made him seem dangerous, like an undercover cop on a TV show, a man she didn’t know.
And she didn’t know him, she realized. She’d thought she did all those years ago. She’d thought he was an easygoing guy who loved Ballyglass and wanted to spend his life in the quiet village messing about on boats. Instead he’d chosen to work undercover in law enforcement among criminals. How could she have read him so wrong?
Aaron blew out a breath and shook his head. “The more I think about that bank appointment, the more I want to go back there and tell them to forget what the computer says and use some common sense. Or maybe I should just punch that jerk we spoke to on the nose.”
A startled laugh burst from Fiona, and she grinned at the thought. “Either way, you’d waste your time. The computer is in charge.”
Aaron’s jaw clenched. “You know, I’m really ticked off that they discounted me like that without even checking my financial status. If they knew how much money I have invested, they wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss me.”
“Being a cop obviously pays better than I thought.”
“The salary mounts up when you’re undercover because you don’t get a chance to spend it, and I inherited a fair bit from Granddad.” Aaron suddenly whacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I’m an idiot. Why don’t I loan you the money myself?”
“What?” Fiona’s heart leaped in her chest, surprise giving way to a pounding sense of excitement that she tried to hang on to before it ran out of control. “You’re willing to invest in my company?”
“The business plan sounds promising, and I know I can trust you. Why not?”
Fiona’s fingers curled around the metal railing as thoughts fluttered inside her head like mad fairies. It couldn’t be this simple. There must be a catch.
“Are you saying you’ll loan me money, or are you expecting to become a shareholder?”
Aaron rubbed his mouth thoughtfully. “A shareholder? I hadn’t thought of that.”
He tossed his cup in the trash, then turned to face her, his gaze questioning. He raised a hand and brushed loose strands of hair off her face. “How would you feel about me owning a part of your business?”
Excitement pinged along Fiona’s nerves, lighting her up inside. If someone had told her she’d need to part with shares to get her funding, she’d have been dead set against it, but this wasn’t a faceless investor, this was Aaron. If he owned part of the company, he’d have to stay in contact.
“Ballyglass Wishes isn’t a big company where you invest in shares and file the certificate away. Jamie, Ewan, and I own a third of the company each, and we make plans together. If you own shares, you’ll need to be involved in making decisions.”
“You mean I’ll have to come back for company meetings?”
Fiona’s heart tripped and sprinted. “Sometimes, and talk to me on the phone regularly.”
“I like the idea of that.” He ran his fingers along her jaw, and his thumb brushed her lips. “I like the idea a lot.”
Chapter Seven
Aaron stood knee-high in clover and buttercups, watching Fiona skip like a child as she ran around the meadow at Ballyglass Castle where they planned to build the new wishing jar workshop.
She climbed onto a tumbledown section of wall poking out of the long grass and put her hands on her hips. “Do you remember the remains of this old barn? You and Jamie used to pretend to be cowboys and hide behind it firing toy guns. You used to tie me to one of the trees by the river and pretend you had to rescue me. Ewan was always the outlaw who’d captured me, but he’d get bored and wander off.”
Fiona’s blue eyes sparkled, her smile radiant as if she were so full of energy she glowed. The sight of her was a drug to Aaron’s senses, giving him a high that temporarily obliterated the dark memories and troubled thoughts always hovering at the edge of his mind.
He stepped over the remnants of the old wall and strolled towards her. “I seem to remember you often got bored and wandered off as well. By the time Jamie and I made it to the tree, you and Ewan were usually in the kitchen eating ice cream.”
She grinned at him and his heart pounded, memories of her cascading through his mind until they settled on the moment he held her in his arms and kissed her on her sixteenth birthday. She’d been such a sweet, innocent sixteen-year-old, but the naughty sparkle in her eyes now was anything but innocent.
He wanted to kiss her, and this time he wouldn’t have to hold back. Fiona waited until he was close, then leaped off her rocky perch and darted away with a giggle and a teasing glance that caught his breath.
“We’re lucky,” she said. “Since there’s been a barn here before, we won’t need to get detailed planning permission to build the new workshop.”
“That’s good.” He followed the path of bent stems she’d left in the meadow. She circ
led the far end of the tumbledown barn, shading her eyes from the sun to watch him as he tracked her.
A skylark sang high above in the blue sky, the warm breeze gently rustling the long grass and flowers. Aaron stepped over some scattered blocks of granite nearly hidden in the grass, and circled around the old barn to flank her. With a flirty laugh, she ran away again.
“This will be the door.” She held out her hands, shoulder width apart, and took a step back, then moved on. “This will be a restroom, and next to it a small kitchen for the staff to make tea and coffee and stuff. Then there will be ten workstations on this side of the barn.” She stretched out her arms, then skipped across the space. “And ten this side.” Her arms outstretched again, she looked both ways, then behind her, as if imagining the building.
“How long does it take to make a wishing jar?” He lifted a foot and rested it on a section of the old tumbledown stone wall, giving up his pursuit for a few minutes.
“Fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Let’s allow thirty minutes to factor in breaks. So twenty members of staff working nine to five will give you three hundred and twenty jars a day, or sixteen hundred a week. That’s more than you put in your business plan.” Aaron took the opportunity to wander closer to her while she thought that over.
“I was being cautious to start with. I’m confident we’ll work up to full production, but it might take a while.” She moved away from him again and stretched out her arms. “Along this end, we’ll have the storage boxes with all the wishing jar contents. There’ll be big windows giving lots of light, air-conditioning for summers like this, and heaters for the rest of the year when it’s cold.”
As she spoke, he’d silently followed her and was close now. This time she didn’t run. Pivoting to face him as if finally making the decision she wanted to be caught, she held out her hands. “So, what do you think? A good investment?”
He took her outstretched hands and stepped closer, leaning down to breathe in the cherry fragrance of her hair.
