by Jo McNally
Finn jammed his fingers into his hair, grinding his words through clenched teeth. “Christ, man, I’m just trying to keep my head down and do my job. I know my personal life destroyed the career I had, but I’m trying to rebuild something here. I’ve learned from my mistakes, and I’m making an intentional effort to keep my job and my life separate.” He closed his eyes tight, swallowing his frustration before opening them again. “You want to see a commitment from me to the school and the town and all, but I need to see some commitment, too. This paper should be enough to get me tenure. You said I needed to have something published quickly, which isn’t easy, but there it is.”
Greer flipped through the outline, his mouth twisting. Maybe Finn was being paranoid, but he got the distinct impression the man was irritated that he couldn’t find anything wrong with it. He slid the papers back across the desk toward Finn and shook his head.
“It looks good, but we need to see if Brady College is really a good fit. For you. For us. You’ve not taught at a small college like this before. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea. The college is an integral part of...”
“Let me guess—the community, right?” Finn’s annoyance flared. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“I’m a little concerned that the request seems to have you chafing already. I know Rendezvous Falls is no Raleigh or Dublin, but...”
Finn leaned forward. “I grew up in a town in County Kildare that was less than a quarter the size of Rendezvous Falls. Small towns don’t chafe at me or frighten me or bore me or anything else. I’m highly adaptable. But I’m more than a little concerned that you’re so thoroughly convinced I’m not going to stay. What do you want me to say? That I’m marrying a nice local girl and we’re going to have a houseful o’ wee bairn so there’s no way I’ll ever leave?”
Greer’s eyes lit up. “Are you?”
Finn’s brain stuttered to a halt. “Am I what?”
“Marrying a local girl?”
Finn started to laugh. Had Greer been drinking? He thought of the red-haired woman who’d jokingly suggested he marry for his green card.
“Yeah sure, haven’t you heard the news? Bridget McKinnon and I are getting married. I’m head over heels with the lass.” Greer’s brows went ever higher, until his eyes were wide and round. The Irish were known for their storytelling, and Finn was just getting warmed up. May as well carry this farce to its conclusion. He leaned forward in his chair. “Oi, the whole renting the apartment thing was just a ruse. We’ve been secretly in love all this time and couldn’t bear to be apart. But we wanted to keep it on the down low, you know? By renting her apartment, she and I can be...you know...together.” He winked. “With no one being the wiser. Except you, of course. We couldn’t fool you.”
The older man puffed out his chest and raised his chin, preening under Finn’s praise. And he wasn’t laughing. Wait a minute... Greer wasn’t buying this nonsense, was he? Was he so eager for Finn to show he was putting down roots that he fell for the wild story? Nah, he had to know it was a joke. Greer’s smile grew wider.
“Well, I’ll be damned. That’s great news, Finn. I’m thrilled to hear it!”
Oh, shit. He really did believe it. Now what?
“Oh...uh...no...I mean...thanks, but...”
Jaysus! His mother had warned him about his flippant responses to serious questions. She always said he was too clever for his own good. His response to her scoldings was usually to laugh and thank Ma for calling him clever, which often resulted in her boxing his ears. And now his stupid mouth had walked him right into a corner and trapped him. If he told Greer he was joking, his boss might laugh at being fooled. Or he might just sack Finn on the spot for lying to him. His visa application would never survive another firing.
Greer was standing now, extending his hand. Like an idiot, Finn stood and took it.
Don’t wait another minute or you’ll be in too deep!
But his visa...
“Congratulations, Finn!” Greer was pumping his hand up and down. “Now I know why you’ve been so coy about your personal life—you were keeping secrets, but the happy kind!”
“Uh...well, no...actually...”
“The McKinnons are a wonderful family, and well respected in Rendezvous Falls.” Greer was practically gushing. “Bridget’s always been a bit of an outlier, of course, and she can be bristly, but she owns a local business and cares about this community. With you marrying a McKinnon, raising that money will be lot easier. Well done, O’Hearn. Well done.”
Finn had to clear this up.
Right this minute.
Instead, he let his mind wander to what it would be like to have flame-haired Bridget as a girlfriend. A lover. A fiancée. Would it soften her hard edges? Would he want it to? Would it be too cute for the Irishman to date the owner of an Irish pub? The future of the pub was one of the things they’d debated in the downstairs office. Bridget would stop by at the end of her shift, and they’d start discussing the menu or the setup or the decor, and soon they’d be arguing and laughing about the best way to update the place. He shuddered at the thought of the debate they’d have if she ever learned of this conversation. There’d be no laughing then.
“I haven’t exactly... I mean, we’re not really...” Finn had to tell Greer the truth. He had to. But he also needed to get tenure and secure that visa. If he got fired, he might have to start the process all over. He might not even be able to have an application accepted again. And what school would want to sponsor him with such a checkered record? He needed some semblance of stability in his life, and if a harmless little fib could do it...?
He analyzed the data in his head. It’s not like he and Greer—or Greer and Bridget, for that matter—hung out in the same social circles. He didn’t need to extend a wedding invitation to the guy or anything. He started to shake his head in disbelief at what he was thinking. This was crazy. Crazy enough to work? Finn put a big, bright smile on his face. “What I mean to say is, she hasn’t told her family yet, so we need to keep it on the down low, if you know what I mean. With her grandmother being ill, she doesn’t want to freak them all out with a wedding. We’re...uh...taking it slow.” That would at least buy Finn some time to come up with a plan.
Greer barked out a sharp laugh. “Taking it slow? You’re engaged to the woman just a few months after you moved here! But I get it. I’ll keep it between us until you’ve made your announcement.” He leaned in and winked. “I’ll admit, the Purple Shamrock isn’t a place I frequent very often. I prefer to enjoy my cocktails in a quieter sort of place, like the marina restaurant. But I know Maura McKinnon pretty well. With everything she’s dealing with, a happy occasion like this might be exactly what she needs, you know. Don’t wait too long.”
Finn ran his tongue along his lower lip. This was a supremely bad idea. But he was in it now. Admitting the ruse would mean losing Greer’s respect for good...at the very least. Once Finn got tenure and put in his green card application, he could tell Greer he and Bridget broke up. It happened all the time. Just another sad story. It was a victimless crime.
He blew out a long breath. There was no doubt who’d be the victim if Bridget ever found out about this. She’d skin him alive. Kick him out of her house. And make sure he was run out of Rendezvous Falls...and straight to Immigration.
* * *
MARY WALKED INTO the Purple Shamrock early Tuesday afternoon and sat at the bar without saying a word. Bridget and Kelly looked at each other uneasily. It wasn’t all that unusual for their cousin to crave silence once in a while, with two little ones at home and one in her belly. She sometimes stopped by before the place was open to chat, but this seemed...different. Kelly lifted her hands in a shrug. Bridget watched for another minute before walking down to where Mary sat.
She set a tall, frosty glass of lemonade with a twist of lime in front of her cousin. “You look like you need something stro
nger, but...you know...” She gestured at Mary’s rounded stomach. “What’s going on?”
Mary blinked a few times, and Bridget realized two things with a thud of her heart. Mary was fighting tears, and today had been Mary’s morning to take Nana to a doctor’s appointment.
“Nana...? The doctor...?”
Mary’s shoulders slumped. “The doctor’s appointment went fine, but she’s just so...tired, Bridg. She’s really down, and kind of out of it. Dr. Blakefield said it was probably what they call ‘chemo brain.’”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Kelly blurted out, walking up behind Bridget. “Why is chemo in her brain? Is the cancer...”
“No, no. Not that. The tumor is shrinking, and the doctor was actually pretty pleased.” Mary reached out and took Bridget’s hand and nodded toward Kelly. “I’m sorry, I must have scared you two to death. My hormones are crazy right now. I cry at everything, I swear.” She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “Nana was just...really upset. I mean, it’s one thing for me to cry—that’s a daily occurrence right now—but you guys, Nana cried.”
Kelly and Bridget both sucked in their breath at the same time. Nana cried? Nana never cried. Not where anyone could see her, at least. The idea of her tough grandmother weeping was enough to shake the foundation of Bridget’s impression of who Maura McKinnon was. There was nothing wrong with tears, of course. But still...when someone who never cried broke down, it was...troubling. It would be like someone discovering Bridget in tears, which would never happen. Although Finn O’Hearn had come close to seeing it that first night he walked into the kitchen.
Bridget frowned. Her mind seemed determined to circle back to Finn, no matter what subject was at hand. Kelly rested her hand on top of Mary’s, which was covering Bridget’s on the bar.
“I’ve never seen Nana cry,” Kelly said, “other than a drop or two when Uncle Patrick passed. What’s this chemo brain thing the doctor mentioned?”
“He told me it varies, but the chemo can cause some people to get foggy and forgetful, or easily confused. And some people get unusually emotional.” Mary frowned. “And before you ask, there’s not much we can do. It should go away eventually, after chemo, but it might take a while. He said it can come in waves, and we should avoid stressing or confusing her when she gets like that. We need to be as positive as possible around her, and give her happy, stress-free things to focus on.”
Kelly gave Bridget a quick side glance. “You mean like having a big St. Patrick’s Day bash at the Shamrock?”
She groaned. They’d talked about this, and agreed that things were too complicated this year to go too crazy with a party. Nana’s favorite thing to do was decorate for the annual event, but with her being sick, they’d decided it a good idea to skip it this year. Just serve some green beer and call it a day. But Nana had not been happy with the decision. And Nana’s mental health was more important than keeping things “easy.” Bridget finally raised both hands in surrender.
“Fine! We’ll have a St. Patrick’s Day party. We’ll make it the biggest and best ever.” She thought of Finn’s complaints about the green beer. “But let’s do it right. We’ll make it genuinely Irish, not just a bunch of green alcohol. But we’ll have to make sure Nana doesn’t do any work. Are you sure a big party won’t just stress her more?”
Mary had perked back up at the news of a party. “We can keep her away from the big crowd—maybe use that back corner booth. Oh, she’ll be thrilled! Especially if you do a real Irish thing. Think Finn would help you? After all, the guy’s been pestering you about it for weeks.”
Kelly clapped her hands together. “Yay! The party’s back!”
Her enthusiasm made Bridget suspicious. “You two didn’t plan this just to get the party back, did you? Is Nana really...?”
Mary raised her hand to her chest in dramatically feigned offense.
“Are you suggesting I’d use Nana’s health to coerce you into having the bash? It’s pretty brilliant, as Finn would say, but I would never.” She lifted her hand in a pledge. “I swear.”
“I would,” Kelly giggled, “but I didn’t think of it. There’s no evil plot here, Bridg. Just a party to make Nana happy.”
Bridget looked between her two cousins through narrowed eyes, then nodded slowly in satisfaction. “Okay. We’ll do it up big this year. For Nana’s sake.”
Mary scoffed. “As if you’re working with Finn just for Nana.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I think you like this guy. And I approve.”
“Me, too!” Kelly grinned. “He’s been doing a great job at the bar. I wish we could get him more than one night a week. And even I think he’s hot.”
“You guys know I am not looking for a man. I’ve got enough...”
Mary shook her head. “Do not tell me again that you’re too busy to have a relationship. That’s an excuse and you know it.”
“An excuse?” Bridget laughed. “Have you seen my life?”
“Stop.” Mary gave her a hard look. “I’m a website designer who’s about to have three children with a husband who spends more time in Albany than he does Rendezvous Falls.” Simon Trask was a state legislator for their area. “Kelly’s juggling her classes as well as working the pub and she found time to fall in love. So why can’t you?”
“But Nana...”
Kelly laughed. “You really aren’t going to use the woman who’s grandmother to all three of us as your excuse?”
She shrugged. “I guess not. But honestly, the pub can be all-consuming...”
Mary stood to go. “Only if you let it be. And dating doesn’t get much easier than having a gorgeous guy living right downstairs.”
Bridget turned back to the kitchen with a wave. Easy wasn’t exactly how she’d describe having Finn live under the same roof as her.
“You two are crazy.”
But as she walked away, she wondered. Were they?
CHAPTER SEVEN
FINN WALKED ACROSS the lot to the pub Thursday night, pulling his coat snug around him. Ireland had its share of gray, raw weather, so American winters hadn’t caused him much worry when he came here ten years ago. But his years in North Carolina had spoiled him. He wasn’t ready for the icy, snowy blast of an Upstate New York winter. Temperatures were headed below zero overnight, for the fourth night in a row. With this wind it would feel downright arctic.
People here had laughed at his wool coat, insisting he’d need to get a down jacket or some sort of high-tech insulation. But they didn’t understand the insulating factor of the hand-knit Irish sweater he wore under the Irish wool coat. His grandmother had made this sweater for him for Christmas, sending it to him in Raleigh eight years ago. He’d worn it exactly once before moving to New York, but he was sure glad to have it now.
The Shamrock was pretty busy for a Thursday night. Looked like Bridget’s cousin, Michael, had a good idea with Trivia Night. Finn shrugged off his coat and put it on a hook near the door. There were some new faces in the crowd. Bridget would be happy to see that, since she was convinced they’d never bring new customers in unless they changed the restaurant’s image completely. Michael was behind the bar, along with Kelly. Luke Rutledge walked out of the back, carrying two cases of beer. He saw Finn and nodded his way. Finn raised his hand in greeting, then froze.
Oh, shit. Howard Greer was standing at the bar. What the bloody hell was his stuffed-shirt boss doing in the Purple Shamrock? Hadn’t he just told Finn he didn’t come here? Why the ever-loving hell wasn’t he sipping cocktails at the marina bar? Finn’s pulse jumped. But wait, he’d told Greer that the so-called engagement was a secret, so there was no reason to think the guy would mention it here at the Shamrock...right?
Should Finn join him? Avoid him? Dash back out the door? Kick his own ass forever letting that little “joke” get so far out of hand? His dilemma was solved f
or him when Bridget peeked out from the kitchen and saw him standing there. Her face lit up, and all thoughts of leaving evaporated. Why had he never noticed that her smile extended up to put a light in her eyes? That it eased the corners of her mouth, leaving her lips full and soft?
She stepped out of the kitchen, and he headed toward her as if drawn by a magnet. Instead of wondering how to keep his phony engagement a secret, he wondered again what it would be like to be engaged to Bridget McKinnon. To make her smile the way she was smiling... Her eyes sharpened as she looked around the pub. Her lips moved just enough that he could tell she was counting heads.
When he reached her, she held up her hand to silence him as her survey continued. She shrugged, pinching her lips together as if impressed, but not wanting to be.
“Damn,” she muttered. “Not bad for a weeknight.”
Mike walking past them with a smirk. “Trivia Night was an awesome idea, and it’s killing you that I was right.” He practically sang the words. She flipped him a hand gesture, and he shook his head. “Nice. Don’t you have cooking to do? I’ve got this under control out here.”
She watched him walk away through narrowed eyes. Nearby, four older couples had pulled two tables together, and they simultaneously burst into laughter about something, raising their glasses of wine and beer and clinking them together. Bridget watched them for a moment, then lowered her shoulders with a half smile. “Ah, screw it. I don’t care if it was Mike’s idea or Santa Claus’s. I’m just happy to see more than ten people here on a weeknight. Hey, have you eaten? I’ve got some of Nana’s favorite chili back there.”
“Wait. Your very Irish grandmother eats chili?”
Before Bridget could speak, Kelly rushed by with a tray of drinks and answered for her. “Nana may be Irish, but she’s also an Upstate New Yorker. In February, chili is our go-to warm-up comfort food, and Bridget makes the best.”
