Barefoot on a Starlit Night

by Jo McNally

  Nana was sitting on the far side of the bar, around toward the back where things weren’t quite as crowded. Mary was with her, big as a house and looking like she was ready to deliver that baby any minute. Her hand was rubbing back and forth across her swollen belly, and her eyes narrowed as if in pain a few times as Bridget watched. Nana didn’t seem to notice, laughing at something her friend Vickie was saying. Bridget watched Mary for another moment. Maybe it was just normal discomfort—it’s not like Bridget had any idea what pregnancy felt like. It had never been the “right time” for a family with her and Clark, which was probably just as well. But now she was in her thirties and for the first time, that invisible clock was beginning to tick.

  Last night Finn said he didn’t want any surprise babies, but did he want babies some day? And was that really any of her business? They were keeping things casual. Day by day. Very mature of them. But after they talked in the middle of the night, they’d gone back to his bed and made love slow and sweet, over and over. It was the kind of lovemaking that didn’t feel...casual. Another hearty Irish cheer went up from a nearby table, making her jump. She had to focus on getting through tonight before she examined her feelings for Finn. Or for babies. She was just turning away when she saw Mary’s shoulders rise up and her eyes close tightly. Uh-oh.

  Bridget caught Mike and told him to take over in the kitchen, ignoring the surprise on his face. That was generally her fiercely guarded domain, and Mike had very little experience in there. But Jimmy and Marta were back there, and Mike was a fast learner. At least she hoped he was. She nearly ran right into Luke Rutledge when she took a shortcut under the bar to get to the other side to help Mary.

  “Hey, Boss! What are you...” He saw her expression and his smile faded. “What’s up?”

  “Call Mary’s husband. Simon’s home with the kids, but their neighbor is on call for when Mary goes into labor.”

  “But Mary’s right th...” He started to point, and fell silent when he saw Mary’s ghost-white face and the tears gathering in her eyes. Luke’s tone was all business now. “Got it. Call Simon. Get him over here. Who’s got the kitchen?”

  “Mike’s helping Jimmy, for now. They’ll need help, but the bar...”

  A warm familiar voice spoke behind her.

  “I’ll handle the bar.”

  She spun and found herself in Finn’s arms. She panicked for a moment, because they were in public and they’d agreed to keep things quiet. But then she remembered that everyone thought they were engaged anyway. Which meant Finn could hold her and kiss her whenever he wanted. And wasn’t that going to be fun?

  Amusement lit his eyes. “I’ll take care of things here, yeah? And you can go with Mary.” She didn’t move, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. He tipped his head in Mary’s direction. “Now, Bridget. Before she has the babe on the bar.”

  Oh, right. Mary. Nana had noticed Mary’s distress by now, and there was a flurry of activity as everyone rushed to help. Bridget was headed that way when she looked over her shoulder at Finn and mouthed a quick thank you. He tipped an imaginary hat in her direction and turned to the beer taps.

  Mary didn’t have the baby in the pub, but she very nearly gave birth to Gavin Patrick Trask in the back seat of her husband’s SUV as he raced toward Geneva. Bridget sat next to her the whole way, and was pretty sure Mary broke a few bones in her hand during contractions. But her cousin managed somehow to hang on until they reached the emergency room. There was no time to get her up to Maternity—she had the baby right there in the ER behind a curtain, screaming curse words at her poor husband the whole time. The whole ward laughed, then cheered at the sound of the infant’s cries.

  Nana had wanted to come with them, but Bridget insisted that Kelly get her home. Her immunity was compromised and, odd as it seemed, a hospital—especially an emergency room—was one of the worst places for her to be hanging out. Bridget called her as soon as Mary and the baby were settled in a room. She could tell her grandmother was miffed about being left behind.

  “Nana, it was bad enough you were at the pub tonight with all those people,” Bridget said, keeping her voice low in the hospital corridor. “But coming here, where you know everyone’s sick with something? Come on.” She was so tired. She glanced at her watch and groaned. The pub had closed an hour ago. “Besides, you didn’t need to be out at this hour. You shouldn’t even be up at this hour. You’d better be calling from bed.”

  “Stop lecturing me, girlie. I’m on the sofa, if you must know, but I’m in my nightie and robe. And I’ve made myself a nice nest of pillows and blankets here, so I’m fine.” Her voice softened a bit. “You must be tired, too.”

  She huffed out a soft laugh. “Not as tired as Mary is.” She glanced into the room, where Simon and Mary were admiring their new son. “Now I just need to figure out how to get home, since I rode her with Simon.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Nana said. “I sent you a ride.”

  Bridget’s brows lowered. “You sent me a ride? What do you mean? One of the Lyft drivers?”

  “I think she’s referrin’ to me, love.”

  She turned with a smile at the sound of Finn’s brogue. He splayed his hands.

  “She called and complained at the lack of news she was gettin’ from here, and sent me to check on things.” He stepped closer. “And to get you home safely.”

  Bridget said a quick goodbye to her grandmother and slid the phone into her back pocket.

  “But who’ll keep me safe from you?”

  He slid his arms around her with a smile.

  “If all goes as planned, no one.”

  He kissed her. It was sweet and affectionate at first. But as usual with them, it quickly built to sizzling.

  “Okay, you two.” Mary called out softly from her room. “Keep that up and you’ll end up with one of these little bundles before your wedding day.”

  Bridget pulled back, blushing fiercely.

  Finn laughed, then looked at the nurse headed their way and mouthed an apology to her. He and Bridget stepped into the room, and Finn admired the copper-haired baby sleeping in Mary’s arms.

  “I’ve heard—” he gave Mary a pointed look “—that there were rumors that was going to happen anyway. That Bridget and I were having what you Yanks call a shotgun wedding.”

  Mary blushed furiously. “I didn’t spread any rumors. I just asked your fiancée a reasonable question at the time. And now I’ll ask you one. Do you want the pitter-patter of little feet around the house one day?”

  Simon chuckled. “Pitter-patter? More like a thundering herd these days.”

  Finn looked back to Bridget, who was trying very hard to look nonchalant about the whole conversation. The corner of his mouth lifted into a wry smile.

  “I wouldna’ mind a bairn or two someday.”

  A very specific spot in Bridget’s belly started doing somersaults, and she blew out a soft breath. What would it be like to have miniature Finns barreling around the house, black curls bouncing?

  Mary stared at Bridget. “Why do you look so surprised?” She gestured between the two of them. “You got engaged without talking about a family? And here I thought you were the big planner.”

  Bridget stammered, and Finn came to the rescue, dropping his arm around her shoulder. “She’s only surprised because I mentioned multiples. I don’t think I’ve told her yet that I believe in a traditional Irish Catholic family with three, four, maybe five or six children.” A light squeeze told her he was teasing, thank God. She batted her lashes at him.

  “Why stop at six? Let’s go for nine and have our own baseball team.”

  Mary’s mouth dropped as Finn replied. “I don’t like odd numbers. Make it ten.”

  She gave him a little hip bump and grinned. “By the time we have ten babies, you’ll be in a nursing home, you old man.”

  “I won’
t!” he protested. But he started to count in his head. “Well, maybe by the time the youngest starts primary school.” He nodded and tapped her nose with his finger. “Unless we start right now.”

  Simon and Mary laughed, but Finn and Bridget stared at each other in silence. She was pressed tight against his side, and the hand that had just tapped her nose was now settled lightly on her neck. All the talk about babies and how they were made had taken both of them back to last night in their minds.

  “Oh, damn, I don’t think he was kidding, Mary.” Simon chuckled. “They might start here and now.” He pretended to shield the baby’s face with his hand. “Think of the children!”

  The joke was enough to break them out of their trance. They shared a quiet laugh and said their good-nights to the tired and happy parents. As they headed to Finn’s car, Bridget realized just how tired she was. She’d had very little sleep in the past thirty-six hours, and it caught up with her in a hurry. She barely remembered sliding into the car before sleep took her over.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  BRIDGET WAS SNORING before Finn got out of the hospital parking lot. He should probably feel guilty for her exhaustion. Their very...active...night the evening before was certainly to blame. But as hard as he might try, guilt refused to come. Because guilt meant regret, and he had no regrets about making love to Bridget McKinnon.

  He’d made a second breakfast when they crawled out of bed, bleary-eyed but satisfied, at eight o’clock. She’d been determined to head straight to the pub and start getting ready for their St. Pat’s festivities, but he’d convinced her she needed some sustenance to recover from all that activity. He’d grilled up some corned beef hash and poached four eggs to drop on top of it. She ate like a woman who hadn’t seen food in a week, and then she headed up to her place to shower and change. She’d stopped on the way back down to suggest they avoid too many PDAs during the party.

  “We’ve maintained our dignity in public so far, and I’d like to be consistent.” She’d winked at him, and she’d never know how close he’d come to pulling her back into his place for another session in bed. “We don’t know how this is going to play out, so let’s just...be cool.”

  He’d agreed, promising to keep a respectful distance at the party. He knew how he wanted things to “play out,” but she had enough on her mind that day to get into that conversation. A conversation about sleeping arrangements—his place or hers—and perhaps more talk about her intriguing offer to skip condoms the next time around.

  She was still asleep when he got to the house and parked his car behind hers. Mike told him the pub was always closed the day after St. Patrick’s Day, so the family could rest and recover. He touched Bridget’s shoulder, but she just mumbled something unintelligible, pushing his hand away. This was going to be interesting. He was thankful for those hours at the college gym as he opened the passenger door and lifted her into his arms, kicking the door shut behind them. Bridget slid her arms around his neck and murmured something before falling asleep again with her head on his shoulder. He managed to get inside without dropping her and stared at the wide staircase. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

  He carried her into his place and laid her on the bed. If he thought carrying her in was a challenge, undressing her without her help was even more interesting. He left her in her underwear—going any further felt creepy with her asleep. Then he joined her, pulling her in close as he tugged the covers over them. Having her in his arms felt so...right. As if his arms had been made just for this. He buried his nose into her hair and inhaled. She smelled of the pub’s kitchen and the hospital’s halls, balanced by her light, floral perfume. She smelled like everything he’d ever wanted. He rested his head next to hers and fell into the deepest, most restful sleep he’d had in years.

  Finn woke to the smell of pancakes and coffee. Soft morning sunlight came through the bedroom curtains. He could hear Bridget moving around the kitchen, humming to herself. What would it be like to wake up every morning like this? He stretched and smiled to himself. It would be pretty damn nice. He stopped. He’d thought the same thing about someone else once, too. He swung out of bed, cursing himself. Dori had no place in his thoughts right now. It wasn’t the same. Bridget called his name from the kitchen, and pushed his doubts away.

  They slept at her place for the rest of that week. Her home was larger and sunnier than his. Comfortably furnished and filled with vibrant colors that suited her. It was interesting that so many in town thought of Bridget as being tense, or more accurately, terse. Testy, even. But he’d come to see that she was just...intense. Intensely focused on the responsibilities that filled her days. On the people she cared about, like Maura. When it was her with him, though, she relaxed. She laughed. She slept in his arms. She rocked his world in bed. In the shower. On the sofa. Against the kitchen counter...

  It was still casual, of course. They told each other that several times a day. Totally casual. And so easy. Everyone already thought they were engaged, so they never had to worry about “slipping up” in public. But most of their time was spent alone with each other, and that was just fine with him. Once in a while he had a memory of Dori tap at his memory, but he pushed it aside. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. This wasn’t that. This was...casual.

  They’d been together for ten fun, sexy, casual days when he surprised her with this trip to Syracuse. She didn’t know where or why they were going, and that annoyed her to no end. She’d spent the whole ride up the Thruway with her arms folded, grilling him, but he didn’t give in. He just kept changing the subject to the weather or asking about the pub. It wasn’t until he was parking the car downtown that he gave in to her pestering.

  “This is a market research trip, love.” He took her arm as they left the parking garage. “Checking out the competition in a way.”

  She laughed. “Syracuse is not my competition, Finn. No one’s driving from here to Rendezvous Falls for a pint.”

  “Maybe not. But Luke told me that people from Syracuse do come to Rendezvous Falls for festivals and wine tours and whatnot. So why not look at what they expect from an Irish bar?”

  They’d stopped at the corner, and she looked up in surprise, her mouth falling open. Even Finn thought it felt like he’d stepped through a portal to a Galway sidewalk outside a genuine pub. The gold lettering above the window read Kitty Hoynes Pub.

  “I’ve heard of this place,” Bridget said, “but I don’t really get why we’re here.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the door. “First, I really do want you to see a traditional-style Irish restaurant for inspiration. Second, I wanted to see a genuine Irish place.” He held the door open as she went in. “And third, it was time you and I had a date outside of Rendezvous Falls, where no one knows us.”

  She looked at the beautiful wooden bar that extended through two adjoining rooms, then back at him as she thought about what he’d said. “Why where no one knows us?”

  “Back home, everyone sees us as an engaged couple...” He held up his hand. “Yes, I know that’s my fault. But it’s hard to just be us there. And I like us.”

  Her dark eyes shone. “I like us, too.”

  They took a table toward the back of the bar, near the small stage. Bridget analyzed the menu, and for a moment he thought she was going to order every appetizer they had. The owner—a genuine Irishman like Finn—stopped by their table during dinner and laughed as Bridget grilled him about the menu. But he was gracious and not only answered her questions, but brought the head chef out to meet her. While the two chefs talked, Finn and the owner shared stories of home and talked about some of their favorite athletic teams there. By the time the entertainment started, Bridget had tapped pages of notes into her phone.

  The waitress brought them two Irish coffees, and she slid the phone back inside her bag.

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t been a very good date, have I?”r />
  He shook his head with a smile. He’d enjoyed watching her learn and question things. Her excitement was contagious. “’Tis fine, love. The date was only one reason we came here, and there’s still plenty of time.”

  She scooted her chair closer to him, so they were both facing the stage. The place was hopping, packed with college students and couples who were singing along with the songs enthusiastically. Bridget had a second Irish coffee, but he regretfully passed on another, knowing he had a long drive home. She was snuggled next to him, and they were holding hands and singing. Bridget knew more of the Irish rebel songs than he thought she would. Maura had taught her Irish grandkids well.

  It was early morning by the time they got home. Funny how he kept thinking of it as that...home. They kissed their way up the staircase, and Finn made a mental note to make sure they made love on that staircase someday. But not tonight. Tonight, Bridget was laughing and singing between kisses, and he wanted her in bed. Warm and soft and...his. Warm and soft and...home. Where he belonged.

  Not forever, of course, but for now. They made slow, sweet, sexy love to each other. She fell asleep after, and he sat on the edge of the bed and watched her, with her red hair spread across the pillow. Not forever, he told himself. He kept telling himself that. He didn’t know if he’d ever have another forever in him. If he’d ever trust anyone with his whole heart again. But he couldn’t fool himself, either. He was falling for Bridget, and falling hard.

  If this wasn’t going to be forever, then it was going to hurt like hell when it ended.

  * * *

  BRIDGET CARRIED TWO pieces of framed artwork out to the dining area, where Finn was waiting with a hammer in his hand. Ever since their trip to the Irish restaurant in Syracuse two weeks ago, she’d been combing through online catalogs and making plans. She handed him the first print, which was a peaceful Irish landscape complete with thatched cottage. He held it out and nodded in approval.