The Mighty Quinns: Riley

“They let you through with that?” he asked.

Nan stopped short, her hand clutching the railing. “What do you mean? Was I supposed to declare it? They said just meat and dairy products. And plants. The jars have never been opened and I—oh, no. Do you think they consider tea a plant?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Here in Ireland, plants usually don’t have leaves.”

“I have to go back.”

She reached for her suitcase, but he pulled it away and grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he warned. “We’re not going back inside.”

“But I may have broken the law.”

“So you’re a criminal now. You’re just going to have to live with the shame. Come on, Alice Capone, let’s get the hell out of here before you find another way to waste my day.”

“If I get in trouble, I’m going to blame you,” Nan said.

“Oh, you’ll be fine. It’ll be a grand adventure, your life on the run from the Irish authorities. It’s better than kissing the Blarney stone, you know.”

“This is not how I imagined my vacation going,” she murmured.

When they reached the first landing, Riley stopped and turned back to her. “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting like a wanker.” He held out his hand and she grasped it. “We’ll begin again. Hello, Miss Galvin. I’m Riley Quinn. Welcome to Ireland. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Nan smiled, staring down at their hands, so casually joined. He had beautiful hands, long, tapered fingers. So he was a nice guy at heart. “See, that wasn’t so difficult.” The warmth of his hand seeped into hers and she realized the attraction she’d first felt for him was still there, only multiplied. A tingle snaked up her arm. He was handsome and funny and even a bit chivalrous. If he could sing, he’d be the perfect man. “Thank you,” she said.

He held on, a lot longer than she considered polite. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, turning a benign greeting into something almost sexual. She didn’t really mind. It felt nice. “The car is just up here,” he finally said, his voice soft, his gaze fixed on her face.

Nan tugged her hand away then stuck it in her jacket pocket for safekeeping. “Lead on,” she said.

RILEY DOWNSHIFTED the car as they approached the interchange, then looked over his shoulder as he turned onto the roundabout. When another car nearly cut him off, he laid on the horn, cursing beneath his breath. He’d never make it back to the pub for the lunch rush, so why bother trying?

Nan was sitting stiffly in her seat, her eyes wide and her hands folded on her lap as if she were praying. “Don’t worry, I’ve never had a wreck.”

“It’s a …” She cleared her throat. “It’s a feckin’ miracle,” she finished, imitating his Irish accent perfectly.

Her use of an Irish curse seemed so ridiculous coming from a proper little thing like her, he couldn’t help but laugh. “There you go. You’ll fit right in with a mouth like that.”

She grinned. “When in Ireland …”

Gad, she was pretty, Riley mused. Not at all what he usually pictured when he thought of American women. He’d met a fair number of American students in pubs all over Ireland, but his image had been finely honed early in life, by old episodes of Baywatch—long blond hair, tight bodies and tanned skin. And breasts that seemed a lot larger than those provided by nature.

Nan was fresh and feisty, with a very simple, straightforward beauty. Her short-cropped black hair curled softly around her face and long, dark lashes ringed vivid green eyes. She was stubborn and opinionated, the kind of woman who would make charming her a tough go, even for the most experienced Casanova. But then, Riley enjoyed a challenge.

Though he had been anxious to get back to the pub, now that they were on their way, Riley decided to get off the expressway and enjoy the rest of the trip. The local roads back to Ballykirk provided a picturesque drive and he found himself wanting to spend a bit more time with Nan before delivering her to the cottage.

“So, you mentioned that your family had a pub. Do you serve lunches there? I’m starving. The food on the plane was awful.”

“Best lunch in all of Ballykirk,” he said.

“Are you the cook?”

“No. I tend to the bar every now and then.”

“You’re a bartender.”

“No. Actually, I make my living as a musician. I write songs and sing. At the Hound and at other pubs around Ireland.”

“You sing,” she said, as if surprised by the news. “Really? Are—are you famous?”

“Depends on what you consider famous. I’m no Elvis. But people know who I am. They come to see me. They buy my CDs. But I’m not planning a stadium tour anytime soon.”

“Maybe I can come and hear you sing,” she said.

“Maybe you can,” Riley replied.

She sent him a smile that was so sweet, he wanted to reach out and touch her again. He clutched the wheel until his knuckles turned white, wondering why he found himself so attracted to the American. It wasn’t just the fact that she was pretty in an unconventional way. There was a wide-eyed innocence about her that he found intriguing. Women her age were usually quite jaded, but not Nan. There wasn’t a cynical bone in her body.

As they continued on to Ballykirk, Nan seemed fascinated by each new sight that passed by her window—the churches, the graveyards, the stone walls. When they rounded a curve in the road, Nan threw her arm out and grabbed his shoulder. “Stop!”

“What?” Riley slammed on the brakes and the car skidded. “Jaysus, did I hit something? What was it?”

“That,” she said, pointing over him to a crumbling round tower. “It’s a round tower. I saw these in my guidebooks. They’re called … cloy—cloh—”

“They’re called cloictheach.”

“I didn’t think they’d just be sitting out in the middle of a field. Do you think they give tours?”

“Nah. That one’s just a ruin.”

“Let’s go,” she said. “I want to see it up close.”

He considered her request for a long moment. They were expecting him back at the pub, but his cousin Martin was behind the bar. He could do the job if Riley was late. “All right. I guess we could stop for a bit.”

“I have to get my camera,” she said, searching for the door handle. “It’s in my bag.”

He leaned over her seat and opened the door for her. She jumped out of the car and opened the rear door, then grabbed her carry-on and rummaged through it. When she’d retrieved the camera, she ran up to the drystone wall surrounding the field.

“I’m in Ireland,” Nan shouted, throwing her arms out. “I want to see it all, starting right now.” She pointed to the tower. “I want to see that!”

Riley shook his head. She might be a bit fussy at times, but she was also adorable. He followed her, holding her hand as she scrambled over the wall. They walked across the field, Nan staring up at the old stone structure. “Who takes care of this? Why hasn’t anyone rebuilt this? How old is this one?” She threw questions at him, one after another, not waiting for an answer.

“We have these all over Ireland,” he said. “There’s one just a few kilometers from Ballykirk. It’s bigger than this one. And you can climb up inside of it.”

She pointed to the small window at the top of the crumbling tower. “Don’t you wonder who might have lived here? Who sat at that window and stared out over all this beauty?”

“I doubt anyone ever lived here. They lived in the area around the tower. Some say these were bell towers. Like a warning system for the people who lived in the area or a way to call them to worship. They may have been used for defense. People would shut themselves inside if they were attacked.”

She gently ran her hand over the rough stone wall and closed her eyes. Riley watched her, wondering if she was tired or if she was saying a prayer. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

Nan glanced over at him. “Yes,” she murmured, nodding. “I’m just … all the life this tower has seen. Where I come from, the oldest building is maybe two hundred years old. This is ancient.”

She looked so beautiful, the color in her cheeks high, her gaze bright with excitement, that he couldn’t help himself. He bent close and brushed a kiss against her lips. She didn’t move when he drew back, just stared up at him with wide eyes.

Nan finally drew a breath. “I—I should take a picture. Stand by the door and look … fierce.”

He did as she asked and posed for five or six photos before he grew impatient with her suggestions for posing. “You don’t need another photo of me,” he finally said. “Let me take a photo of you.”

She posed for him and he took his time, watching her through the viewfinder. He’d always been attracted to girls with long hair, but short hair suited Nan Galvin. It was playful and sexy and he could imagine burying his face in it when he hugged her.

“All right,” he said, clicking the shutter. “Got it.”

A tiny smile played at her lips. “I want to remember everything about this trip,” she said softly. As they walked back to the car, she held the digital camera out to him. “That’s a good one,” she said, pointing to the tiny screen. “You look very handsome. Although, you’d look better if you shaved.”

Riley slowed his pace as she continued to review the photos. Yes, she was undeniably attractive. And that sweet body, so slender and delicate, was just as intriguing as her pretty face. But she was also very odd, that one. He jogged to catch up to her and when they reached the car, he pulled her door open and waited for her to get inside.

She turned her gaze up to his and then held out her hand. “Thank you.”

Riley was so surprised he wasn’t sure what he ought to do. He took her fingers in his, deciding that a handshake wouldn’t do. Slowly, he brought her hand up to his lips. “No need for thanks. I was happy to … do whatever it was that I did.” The urge to kiss her again was overwhelming and Riley leaned closer. And then, without considering the consequences, he caught her waist between his hands and pulled her against his body.

Their first kiss had been borne of impulse, quick and fleeting, but this kiss was very carefully crafted. He gently explored her mouth, teasing with his tongue until she opened beneath the assault. She offered no resistance and though the kiss may have surprised her as much as it surprised him, she didn’t back away. When he finally did, she blinked up at him, her hand still resting on his chest.

“Lovely,” he murmured.

Nan cleared her throat and nodded nervously. “I think this is going to be a wonderful vacation,” she said. She climbed into the car and Riley closed her door, then hurried around to the driver’s side.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered beneath his breath. “What are you doing? She didn’t come to Ireland to snog with a culchie like you, ya daft prick.” Still, she must have enjoyed it. She hadn’t slapped him across the face or called him out for such a bold move or even tried to put an end to the kiss. And maybe, if the opportunity presented itself again, he’d give it another go.

When he got behind the wheel, Nan was peering out at the round tower, her eyes watery. Jaysus, this didn’t bode well. Kissing her had made her cry. “Oh, now don’t do that,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. But I—”

“No,” she said, laughing softly. “It wasn’t the kiss. That was lovely. Very nice. Better than nice. Excellent.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I—I guess I’d like to think my mom might have been here when she visited Ireland years ago. She loved history. She might have visited this tower and put her hands on those very stones.”

“Well, now you have a picture to show her.”

“She died when I was eight,” Nan said.

Silently cursing his stupidity, Riley turned the ignition and the car started. When it backfired, Nan jumped, pressing her hand to her heart and startling her out of her melancholy. “Nothing a tune-up won’t cure,” Riley said. “She’s a dependable old banger. You won’t have to worry. She’ll get you wherever you want to go.”

“You’re lending me this car?” she asked.

“This is it,” he said, giving the dashboard a pat.

“What is it?”

“This is a Fiat. A Cinquecento. She may be small, but she’s got four wheels and an engine.”

“She has a stick shift,” she said. “Which would probably indicate the opposite gender. And I can’t drive a stick shift.”

“It’s not rocket science,” he said. “I can teach you in just a couple of minutes. Besides, this car barely uses any petrol. Though it does have an oil leak you’ll have to mind.”

Nan tipped her head back and covered her face with her hands. “So the car looks like it belongs to a family of clowns. Please, please tell me the guesthouse isn’t a hovel made of sticks and mud in the middle of some swamp.”

“Bog,” he said. “We call it a bog. And the cottage is very cozy.”

“Those photos you sent were real?”

“It’s my childhood home. My brother Kellan has recently renovated it. He lives there now and again when he’s come down from Dublin. And my sister Shanna decorated it. She likes old things—antiques. It’s just as the photos show. Better even.”

Nan took a ragged breath and nodded. “Okay. As long as the cottage is nice, I’ll be fine.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, looking for any excuse to touch her again. “Feel better, then? No more tears?”

“I’m good,” she replied.

They rode for a long time in silence, Riley searching his mind for a topic of conversation without appearing to snoop. He wanted to know everything about her. Was there a man in her life? Did she love him? Was she thinking about kissing him again? “You’re a librarian. You must really like books.”

“I love books,” she said. “I always have. Every one you open is a window into a new world.”

“Did you open a book about Ireland? Is that why you’re here?”

Nan shifted to face him. “My mother came to Ireland when she was twenty-two. Right after she got out of college. I came here looking for her.”

“That’s a noble purpose,” he said, hoping that the mention of her mother didn’t restart the tears. For a girl who appeared so fragile on the outside, Nan Galvin was made of steel beneath. “I can’t imagine losing my ma at such a young age. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“But your father is still alive?”

Nan shook her head. “He died last spring. He was older than my mother. He never remarried. I used to think it was my fault, that he was so consumed with raising me that he didn’t have time for anything else. But once I got older, I realized he didn’t find someone else because my mother was his one and only love. He just wanted to be with her.” She glanced over at him. “Do you believe in that? That everyone has just one person they can love?”

It was a strange question to ask a total stranger, but then Nan never seemed to run out of questions. When she wanted information, she simply requested it. Riley could honestly say he’d never given the notion much thought. But she deserved an answer. “Sure. Why not? It would probably explain why I’m still single.”

“I don’t remember much about her,” Nan continued. “She had red hair and green eyes and the softest hands. She was an art teacher. Her great-grandparents came from Ireland. I think that’s why she named me Tiernan.”

“It’s a beautiful name. But I’ve never heard it used for a girl. It’s usually a boy’s name.”

“I know,” she said. “I looked it up. I guess she liked the way it sounded.”

“So what else have you planned to see?” he asked.

“Everything in and around Ballykirk,” Nan said.

“And why Ballykirk?”

“Because this is where my mother stayed twenty-seven years ago,” she said.

“I wonder if anyone about town would remember her?” Riley asked.

“I hope so,” she said softly. “I really hope so.”

Her voice was so soft, so filled with faith that he had to fight the impulse to stop the car and pull her into his arms and kiss her again. He’d always acted on his instincts, but this time, Riley decided to let his attraction to her simmer for a time. She’d booked the cottage for ten days.

He had plenty of time to woo her and he intended to take full advantage of any opportunity she offered.

BY THE TIME THEY neared Ballykirk, Nan had decided that Riley Quinn was the sexiest man she’d ever met. It wasn’t only the dark good looks. He had an endearing combination of boyish charm and masculine confidence that she found completely irresistible. Though kissing a stranger was rather scandalous for her usually conservative approach to men, it wasn’t difficult to understand her motives. He was just so kissable.

Her coworkers had teased her about vacation romances and Nan had laughed them off, but now she had to consider the possibility. She wasn’t the same person she was at home. From the moment she set foot on Irish soil, she’d felt a sense of freedom. If she could kiss him after knowing him for an hour, what would happen after a day?

Though Nan had had a few long-term relationships in the past, she couldn’t say she’d ever been in love. Perhaps her reluctance came from watching her father’s loneliness increase with every year that passed. In her world, lost love had the capacity to bring a great deal of pain, sometimes lasting a lifetime. So she’d never taken the risk, never completely surrendered her heart.

As for Riley, his charms would only go so far. Even if he was bent on kissing her again, she had no intention of falling in love with him. There was absolutely no future in it. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a vacation romance.

As they raced down the country roads, Riley pointed out interesting sights and accompanied his travelogue with witty stories about the local folk. Irish music blared from the car’s speakers and every now and then, he’d sing along, in a beautiful tenor voice.

As the warm August breeze blew through the open windows, Nan realized that she’d told the truth at the immigration desk. She was here for pleasure. But a different kind of pleasure—the kind that filled her senses, that made her body come alive and her mind open to new possibilities. The kind that only a man’s touch might bring.

Nan had always read that Ireland was a land filled with magic and now she understood why. From the moment she stepped out of the airport, she felt as if she’d been carried into another world. All around her, the colors were brighter and the sounds more beautiful. The air smelled sweet and the man sitting beside her had captured her imagination.

As they reached the coastline, Nan got a good view of the water, the road running along the edge of the rugged, windswept hills. Every gothic novel she’d ever read came to mind and she imagined the heroines standing alone on the cliffs, their skirts buffeted by the ocean breeze.

“That’s Ballykirk down there,” Riley said, pointing to a small gathering of whitewashed buildings on the waterfront.

But instead of continuing on to town, he turned up a narrow lane, taking her higher into the hills. “I thought the cottage would be closer to town,” she said.

“It’s not far,” he said. “A brisk walk is all. And there are bicycles at the cottage. And you’ll have the car.”

“The car I can’t drive,” she said.

He glanced over at her and grinned. “Just point it down the hill and take your foot off the brake. You’ll roll right into town.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Let’s get yourself settled and then I’ll give you a lesson later this afternoon. You’ll be tearing up the road in no time.”

He made one more turn and a pretty thatched-roof cottage came into view, its whitewashed exterior bright in the noonday sun. Riley pulled the car to stop on the road, outside a low drystone wall that surrounded the front yard. “Here we are,” he said. “Home sweet home.”

Nan looked out, then turned to him and smiled. “It’s so cute,” she said, overwhelmed with both relief and delight. “It’s so much prettier than the pictures.” She hopped out of the car and walked up to the iron gate. A garden filled with colorful blooms flanked the narrow front walk and she drew a deep breath of the perfumed air. As she looked more closely, she saw little cast-iron animals, peeking from beneath low-lying leaves.

“Look at this,” she said, bending down and pointing to one of the sculptures.

“Hedgehog,” Riley said. “My brother makes those. He has a blacksmith shop in town.” He opened the trunk of the car. “Go on. The door is open. I’ll bring your bags.”

She ran up the walk, flung open the rough plank door and stepped inside. The entrance led into a simple living area with a worn wood floor. Rag rugs were scattered about and a huge hearth dominated one wall. Opposite the front door, and next to the back door, the kitchen was tucked into a small room with an adjoining bathroom. A collection of shabby chintz furniture, the colors a pretty contrast against the rough white walls, was gathered around the hearth.

Both bedrooms were tiny, but like the rest of the cottage, quaintly furnished. She circled around the old iron bed, her hand smoothing over the handmade quilt, then she threw open the window set in the thick wall. The breeze swept away the stuffy air and Nan fell back onto the bed, completely pleased with her surroundings. “It’s perfect,” she whispered.

“This used to be my room.” Riley stepped through the doorway and placed her suitcase on the other side of the bed. “My brothers, Kellan and Danny, and me had this room, and my ma and da had the other. And my two sisters, Shanna and Claire, had the loft above us.”

“It’s cozy,” she said. “I love it.” She sniffed. “What’s that smell?”

“Peat. We burn it in the hearth. The cottage doesn’t have heat, but it’s August so you shouldn’t be chilly. But if you are, you can call down to the pub and I’ll come up and start a fire for you. Or there are some portable heaters in the closet.” He stood next to the bed, watching her, his hands shoved in his jean pockets. “I guess I’ll leave you then. Unless you’d like to come down and have lunch. Your rent includes a meal a day. The pub serves lunch and dinner, but I could probably find you breakfast as well.”

She circled around the bed, her hand running along the contours of the iron bed. “I think I’ll unpack first. And then maybe take a nap.”

“A kip,” he said. “That’s what we call it here.”

“A kip,” she said.

Riley chuckled. “There you go. Well, when you’re ready, just follow the road down to the village and you’ll find us at the end of the street right near the water. The Speckled Hound.”

“All right. And later we’ll have our driving lesson?”

“We will.”

They stood, staring at each other silently for a long moment. Nan held her breath, wondering what was going through his mind. Was he thinking about kissing her again? And if he did, would she be able to keep herself from kissing him back? She waited, hoping he’d try. When he stepped toward her, she released her breath in a soft sigh.

“About what happened earlier …?” he murmured.

She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“I probably shouldn’t have done that. I was just having some fun.”

“You’ve kissed a lot of girls just for fun?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on hers. “Yeah, I have.”

“You’re very good at it.”

He chuckled softly. “I get my share of practice.”

“And is there a girl—a special girl—that you kiss more often than other girls?” Nan asked. “Maybe one that you’re going to be kissing for the rest of your life?”

Riley chuckled. “No. There was, but …”

His voice trailed off, leaving her curious. “But?”

“She took off a few years ago. She wanted a wee bit more out of life than a part-time barkeep and a singer with a mediocre voice could give her. She lives in Galway now with her husband.”

“Then you’re free to kiss anyone you want.”

“That I am,” Riley said. He took another step closer. “Would that be an invitation?”

Nan drew a deep breath. She wanted to scream her answer. Yes! Kiss me again, throw me down on the bed, rip off my clothes. “I’m not sure. If it was, would you accept it?”