“Maybe.”
Nora seemed to soften. “You know, you're not the first person in the world who's had their heart broken. I was there when it happened, remember? I know it was awful. But you've only prolonged your own agony by turning hard.”
Aislinn stiffened. “I don't know what you mean.”
“You do so. You're not thick. You pushed everyone away, Aislinn. Did you ever stop to think that if you'd done the opposite, maybe you'd have healed by now?”
Aislinn began brushing her hair. “I am healed.”
“A cow's arse you are.”
“I don't want to talk about this anymore.”
“Suit yourself. But in my opinion, hiding up here and acting the ice princess is sad. You've got so much to offer, and you're throwing it away because one arsehole did you wrong.”
“All it takes is one. Now let's finish up this torture, shall we?”
*****
Aislinn let Nora drive her truck down into town for the céilí though she hated every moment of it. She was a horrible driver, rusty after years of using public transport in London. Aislinn knew that had she driven, they could have been to the dance in half the time.
The dance, like all dances and events involving more people than could fit in the Oak, was being held at the parish hall of Saint Columba's. Wedding receptions, memorial services, political meetings, communion parties, dances - Saint Columba's had seen them all.
Aislinn felt a twinge of sentimentality as she and Nora entered the hall. She remembered the dances she and her school chums had gone to: giggly girls on one side of the room and gawky boys on the other, trying to figure out each other's ways. Oh, Declan Taylor is looking at me! Do you suppose he's going to ask me to dance? III give David Shiels the once - over, do you think I 'in being too bold? Aislinn herself had never gone through such agonies: she was already going out with Connor.
The donation for the dance was ten euros, but Aislinn gave twenty, since Padraig was too ill to come. A rattling, deadly cough, he'd told her. She'd tucked him up with a good, strong cup of tea before she left - tea she was sure he'd add a splash of whiskey to. Maybe it would help him drift off to sleep, poor old devil.
The place was packed; it looked like the whole town had turned out. Folding chairs lined the walls, but only the elderly were using them. Everyone else was either dancing or standing around in small groups chatting.
Aislinn recognized the band. Five local men in their fifties who'd been playing out for years. Some thirty years ago, they fancied they might one day be as big as U2. They were competent, but nothing special. And the songs they wrote themselves were dreadful. Aislinn felt a pang of pity of them. She knew what it was like to have your dream snatched from you.
Eagle eye Nora scanned the hall. “There's the Yank,” she said, discreetly directing Aislinn's eyes to the far left corner of the room. “He's standing with his aunt and uncle and cousins.”
“Good for him,”
“Go over there and say hello,” Nora urged.
“Why don't you shut your pie hole?”
“God, you're the same stubborn thing you've always been.”
“And you're the same bossy boots you've always been. Give it a rest, Nora, would you, please?”
“Suit yourself. I'm going to go talk to Grace Finnegan. Donald and I actually know one of the oncologists at the cancer center. Maybe we could help Fintan get a consult sooner rather than later.”
“That's a nice thing to do.”
Nora headed off, and Aislinn made her way to the bar, sure she was going to break her neck in Nora's ridiculous boots. She couldn't help but notice all the surprised looks being beamed her way. Oh, look, Aislinn McGafferty actually showed up, and all dolled tip to boot She shouldn't have let Nora talk her into putting this goop on her face, not to mention persuading her to pour herself into pants so tight she felt like her legs were squeezed into sausage casings. God, what she wouldn't give to be home right now, curled up on the couch with Deenie, watching telly or reading a good book.
She was just being handed her whiskey and soda when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and she turned. It was Old Jack.
“Hello, Aislinn,” he said, a big friendly smile splitting his red, craggy face. “It's lovely to see you here.”
“Well, it's for a good cause,” she said uncomfortably.
“True, true. And how are you and Nora getting on?”
“Fine,” Aislinn said suspiciously. Had he heard otherwise?
“Grand, grand. You know,” he said, leaning in confidentially, “Liam O'Brien is a bit sweet on you. Asks questions about you all the time.”
“Is that so? Tell the coward if he wants information on me, he should ask me himself.”
“That might be why the lad's making his way over here right now,” Jack said with a wink as he departed.
Shite, thought Aislinn. Here it conies. The swaggering thorn in my side
“Hey, Aislinn.”
Aislinn nodded curtly. “Liam.”
“You look lovely.”
She wouldn't meet his eyes. “Thank you.” He didn't look bad himself, truth be told. Nice jeans, a button-down shirt, even a blazer - it suited hint
“Is it me, or is this band really, really bad?”
Aislinn relaxed a bit. “They're awful,” she concurred, taking a sip of her drink.
“Where's Padraig?”
“Home ill.”
“Think we'll raise a lot of money tonight?”
“I think the answer is self-evident.”
Jesus, he was Chatty Chatsworth. She hoped she didn't get stuck talking to him for the next hour.
His eyes were doing a slow tour of her body, and for a flickering second, she thought maybe she was right to listen to Nora. But she shoved the thought away. Who the hell did he think he was?
“You done giving me the once-over?” she asked sarcastically
Liam chuckled.
“You don't seem to mind.” “You wouldn't care if I minded or not.”
“Of course I would.”
“Right. Well, if you'll excuse me, I've got to -”
“I knew you'd come,” Liam said smugly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, I knew you'd come to the dance.”
“I'm here because I want to help out the Finnegans.”
That's part of the reason. The other part is me."
Aislinn's mouth fell open. “Y' gobsmacked me. Truly. You're the most arrogant jackass I've ever met. Maybe your smoky-eyed, smooth-talking rubbish works on other women, but it won't work on me.”
“You're dressed up because you wanted to look good for me,” Liam continued with a self-satisfied smile.
Aislinn wished she could smack his face. “I'm dressed up because I wanted Nora off my bloody back.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Aislinn's heart began to pound. “How dare you?”
“I'm American, remember? We don't pull any punches.”
“Neither do we Irish. Now, would you ever piss off once and for all?”
Liam's eyes blazed with adoration. “God, I love that you're so fiery.”
Aislinn felt heat flash through her body against her will. He's thro wing you a line of bull. Don't soften. Don't fall for it
“Would you excuse me? You're boring the teeth off me.” Aislinn started to walk away.
“Dance with me.”
She whirled around to face him. “What?”
“One dance, and I'll leave you alone. Union.”
“No,”
“What are you so afraid of,” Liam challenged, “actually enjoying yourself?”
Aislinn strolled back to him, giving him a sharp poke in the chest with her finger. “You know what I dislike most about you, apart from your misplaced arrogance?” she fumed. “It's this mad notion you have that you somehow know me. You've no idea if I'm afraid of anything or not. You've no idea if I enjoy myself or not.”
“You're wrong. I d
o know about you. I know about Connor McCarthy, and I know about your parents -”
“That's enough,” Aislinn interrupted fiercely, feeling her face go hot. Of course he would know about Connor. The whole world knew about Connor.
“I'm sorry,” Liam said quietly. “I didn't mean to upset you.”
“You didn't,” Aislinn insisted briskly. “I just don't like discussing my personal life with strangers.”
Liam looked mildly stung, and she was glad of it. He needed to be put in his place.
The band finished playing a song that sounded vaguely like the Village People's “YMCA” and launched into a version of Stevie Wonder's “You Are the Sunshine of My Life,” a song Aislinn happened to love.
“One dance,” Liam repeated.
“Jesus God, are you sure you're not my own mother come back in the flesh, the way you nag on?” Aislinn huffed in exasperation. “Fine, one dance, and one dance only. You got that?”
“Loud and clear.”
She put her drink down on the makeshift bar and let Liam lead her out onto the dance floor. Their stance was stiff and awkward, and that was fine with her, even though she could tell he was dying to pull her closer. Still . . . dancing with a man . . . it was nice, but she was not about to let it go to her head like some pathetic, moony-eyed schoolgirl.
“You're a pretty good dancer,” said Liam, trying to pull her a little closer. Aislinn shot him a look of warning, and he backed off.
“Any twit can shuffle around the floor. Even you.”
Liam laughed as Aislinn craned her neck to look past his shoulder, trying to spot her sister. She was still standing with Grace Finnegan. Both women were watching her and Liam. In fact, loads of people were watching. Aislinn ignored it, holding her head high, but there was no denying it ate at her. Ooh, look. Liam 0 'Brien actually persuaded the hellcat to dance. Poor thing, with that Connor business. And her main and dad. He must be taking pity on her poor, lonely soul...
Aislinn broke away from him before the song ended. “I think I might be coming down with the same bug as Padraig. Good night.”
She hoofed it as fast as she could off the dance floor, heading straight for Nora.
“Couldn't you even finish the dance with him?” were the first words out of her sister's mouth.
"I'm feeling poorly.
“I'm sure it's just the opposite.”
Aislinn glared at her. “I'm off for home. You coming with, or you staying?”
“Staying, of course! We've only just got here!”
“Right, then. I'm sure you'll be able to catch a ride home with someone.”
“Aislinn -”
“Button your lip.” She kissed her sister's cheek. “I'll see you in the morning.”
“Be careful driving home... chicken.”
Aislinn rolled her eyes and walked out into the night. Ah, blessed freedom. Chicken - Nora was daft. She leaned against the wall and pulled her sister's boots off, wiggling her toes. She'd walk barefoot to the truck. Anything was better than feeling like you were going to teeter over.
She was heading for her truck when she heard Liam call her name. Sweet Christ on a bike, would he never leave her alone?
“What now?” she asked crossly.
He grinned as he looked down at her stocking feet. “I had a feeling you wouldn't last long in those boots.”
“Yes, because you know so much about me,” Aislinn replied sarcastically. “Can I help you with something?”
“I was wondering if we could spend some time together.”
“We just spent some time together.”
“Union, you know what I mean.”
“All right.” She suppressed a wicked smile. “How about you come with me and Padraig to the farmers' market in Omeath tomorrow?”
Oh, it was glorious, the crestfallen expression on his face. Clearly the offer wasn't what he had in mind. But the spark returned to his face just as quickly as it had left.
“Okay. What time?”
Dammit. She was sure he'd beg off! But no, he never let up.
“There won't be much for you to do apart from watch Padraig and me sell wool,” she warned. “Though maybe I'll put you to work, fetching me the occasional coffee.”
“I could do that. What time?”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I told you,” Liam said stubbornly. “I want to spend time with you.”
“Right, then. I'll pick you up at seven sharp.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“I'm glad one of us is,” Aislinn replied, walking away. God, if the farmers' market didn't put him off, nothing would.
*****
“Getting her to dance? Now that falls under the category of miracle, boyo.”
Old Jack stared at Liam in amazement as he reentered the parish hall. Inviting him to come with her to the farmers' market and be her coffee fetcher - Liam had to hand it to her, it was a good one. And leaving him standing alone in the middle of the dance floor like a jackass? Double touché. But it was obvious why she did it: he was beginning to get to her.
Jack was standing with David. Fergus, and Teague, the first two nursing whiskeys, the last holding a pint of Harp. Teague's expression was bitter.
"Big deal, so you got her to dance with you to half a song. I still think it'll be a cold day in hell before she gives the time of day to a
Yank."
Liam shook his head and chuckled. Night in, night out, he was forced to listen to this lazy, bitter lump of a man criticize America. Liam was no super-patriot, but it was truly beginning to get on his nerves. “What the hell have you got against Americans?”
“You all think you're better than us.”
“Leave off. Teague,” said Old Jack with a heavy sigh. “You're beginning to sound pathetic.”
“He's right.” Fergus slapped Liam on the back. “You're making good headway, Liam. I'd be getting nervous if I were you, Jack.”
Jack sniffed. “We'll see.”
“Were her hands ice cold?” David teased Liam. “Are your goolies shriveled to the size of marbles?”
Actually, Liam thought to himself, her skin was warm and soft.
“She actually looked good in them boots,” said Teague. “Kid sexy.”
“Ay, she did look good overall,” Fergus admitted reluctantly. “I don't think I've ever seen her with her face all done up like that.”
“On her wedding day,” Jack reminded him.
“Oh, right, right,” said David. They all shook their heads sadly.
“How have you achieved such headway?” Fergus demanded, making Liam's quest sound like a military mission.
“Basically, by not leaving her alone. Wearing her down.”
“Well, it'd have to be that, wouldn't it?” Teague said snarkily. “Because it certainly isn't your charm.” He stormed off with a glare.
“Jesus, what's his problem?” Liam asked.
“A Yank woman broke his heart.”
“And you did take a job from an Irishman,” David pointed out. “He's been on the dole for ages.”
Jack rose to Liam's defense. “Well, maybe if he got his fat arse off his mammy and daddy's couch, he could find himself a job and wouldn't resent others willing to do a hard day's work, Yank or not.” Jack looked at Liam. “I still think you're gonna lose the bet, son,” he said good-naturedly. “Do you want anything at the bar?”
“A Guinness would be fine.”
Jack waddled to the bar as David and Fergus crossed the room to ask two women to dance, leaving Liam alone on the sidelines. Even though being in Ballycraig sometimes bored him senseless, he kind of liked that it was one of those Irish villages that hadn't been affected by Ireland's boom years. No designer stores, no wine bars, no five-star restaurants - Ballycraig left that to surrounding villages.
Jack returned with Liam's pint, and they touched glasses before each downed a healthy amount of liquid. It was hotter than hell in the parish hall. “Aren't you going to ask any
of the other fine-looking women of the town to dance?” he asked Liam.
“In a minute.” Liam glanced around the hall. There were quite a few good-looking women in town, and he knew for a fact many of them fancied him. But he really had no desire to ask any of them to dance or to make the effort at small talk. At least not right now.
“You got her to dance. Amazing.”
Liam turned as Aislinn's sister, Nora, joined him and Jack. No one would ever guess the two were sisters: Nora was dark-haired, well-dressed, and urban. “Chalk and cheese,” as his parents would say.
“Is it?” Liam asked.
“You know it is,” said Nora, “I'm glad you like her. She's really wonderful. She's just -”
“A wounded, snarling animal,” Jack offered helpfully.
“That's quite a strong way of putting it,” said Nora, looking displeased by Jack's comment, “but yes. And whether she'll admit it or not, she's beginning to like you. I can tell by all the complaining she does about you.”
Liam threw Jack a smug look as the older man started to look green around the gills.
“You okay?” Nora asked Jack.
“Fine. It's just hotter than the fifth circle of hell in here.” He loosened his tie. "I'm going to step outside to get a breath of fresh air. Excuse me.
Nora turned to Liam. “So what's next?”
“She's allowing me to accompany her to the farmers' market tomorrow.”
“Have fun,” Nora said dryly.
Liam grinned. “Oh, I will, believe me.”
Straight Up
Chapter Six
************************************************************************************************
Aislinn was certain that when she pulled up in front of the Oak at 7 a.m., Liam would either be nowhere in sight or would blearily come up with an excuse to beg off accompanying her to the farmers' market. But no: there he was, bright-eyed and smiling, holding a vacuum flask of freshly brewed coffee. Bastard
She'd heard Nora come in from the cëilí around midnight, tiptoeing past her bedroom door. Usually, Aislinn slept like a log, but not last night. Loath as she was to admit it, she was softening a bit toward the Yank, and that was kicking up quite a bit of dust in her head. Succumbing to his overtures meant once again risking heartache. Who knew how long Liam planned to stay in Ballycraig? She could hitch her wagon to his, only to have him turn around and with that unnervingly sexy twinkle in his eye say, “It's been nice, love, but I'm back to New York.” And there she'd be, shattered and humiliated all over again. No: better to tamp down her feelings
Straight Up Page 5
