Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

his lips form the words he spoke, to watching his fingers as they drummed the table along with the music or lifted his beer to his mouth. Which, of course, led back to looking at his lips! I would have felt embarrassed, normally, but this evening seemed touched by magic. Perhaps I was too wrapped by grief and alcohol, or perhaps Davis just had a gift for putting people at ease.
    By the time the pub closed, I had learned that he had lived in the city all his life, started college nearby, but ended up taking massage training when his grandmother moved in with his mother and they needed the extra income. I could hardly believe the level of maturity required for a young twenty-something to return home from the dorms and become the breadwinner of the family, but it explained much about Davis' draw for me. I, too, had given up one life for the sake of family, so I understood the sacrifice. As I told him about moving from Florida to Texas when Mother was sent home to die, Davis squeezed my hand. The extra months she lived beyond the expected ones had been a gift, but I had left behind everything but my job when I moved. The blessing of the computer age; websites could be designed and maintained from anywhere.
    "What do you plan to do now?" Davis gently asked. "Are you staying here in Texas or do you plan to go back to Florida?" As we walked down the street, I considered his question as solemnly as I could after as many beers as I had drunk. We had eaten and talked enough for most of the buzz to have worn off. I stopped at the corner to await the light and turned to face my companion.
    "There is nothing in particular to go back to in Florida." I wondered aloud, "Is there anything to keep me here?" Davis' smile had a shy quality to it that I had not seen before. He peered at me from under his dark bangs and winked.
    "Perhaps we can find a reason for you to want to stay, hmm?" As I watched, dumbfounded, Davis reached for my hand and inter-laced our fingers. "Walk home with me," he added, "and we can call you a cab from there." The light drizzle was threatening to become a Texas thunderstorm, so I agreed and followed his lead.
    CHAPTER 3
    My shock knew no bounds when the object of my fantasy appeared before me in the darkened Irish bar. When Ronan left his bar stool and sauntered to me, I knew I was lost. My first thought was that if he would give me half a chance, I would make both our nights, but as we sat and talked, my lust began to morph into something more serious. I felt for him strongly, both empathy over his loss and desire to be a friend to him. His loneliness called to the healer in me, and I wondered what my mother would say. I began to suspect that Ronan was a keeper, and when he confessed that he had left all to move here and had nothing to go back to, I was truly a goner.
    As we left the bar, a light drizzle began and Ronan shivered as his damp shirt cooled him off. I wanted the night to last forever, and I dreamed of this as a beginning to something special if I could get him to let down his guard and let me in. I led him toward my home, scheming as we walked and hoping against all odds that he just might be the one for me. When we reached my house, I stopped us on the porch. "Would you like to come in for coffee? My mom's a night owl, too, and there's always a pot on in the evenings. It's our usual time for chatting and chores, after my grandmother is in bed and everything is quiet." I didn't want him to feel pressured at all; I hoped to ask him out again and didn't want to push my luck.
    His face was downturned and his gaze seemed to be on our hands as he stumbled over his words again. I could tell he was nervous and I wasn't sure if it was me or the thought of meeting my mother that was throwing him.
    "Um, I guess coffee would be nice…" his words were almost lost in the ambient sounds around us. "Are you sure your mother won't mind?" His tentative glance up at me showed that he was biting his bottom lip and I desperately wanted to stop him with my kiss. I pulled him up the steps to our wide front porch and left him no more time to think.
    Opening the door with my key, I kept talking so that Mom would know I had a guest with me as we walked into her domain. As expected, she was sitting at the computer, paying bills and drinking coffee. As I leaned over to kiss her cheek in greeting, I introduced Ronan as a client that I had run into that evening, but I knew she wasn't fooled. I had never brought a client of