The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy
Gallagher’s.”
“I’ll come at six, then.” She drained her glass, slid off the stool. “Will you be stopping in the pub here on Saturday, Jack?”
“I will, yes. I like the band.”
“I’ll see you then.” She glanced back, noted her father was deep into talk with his friends. An hour more, she calculated, then called to him, “I’m for home, Dad. I’ll tell Ma you’ll be along by and by. Darcy, you see that the man’s up and out within the hour now, won’t you?”
“I’ll show him the door.” Darcy carted a tray full of empties to the bar. “I’ve a date Tuesday next with a Dubliner who passed through here. He’s taking me into Waterford City for dinner. Why don’t you get yourself a man and come along?”
“I might do that.”
“Better, I’ll ask the Dubliner to bring a friend.”
“All right.” Brenna didn’t have any interest in having dinner in Waterford with strangers, but it was so satisfying to plan it with Shawn listening. “I’ll just stay with you after, as I expect we’ll get in late.”
“He’s picking me up at six, prompt,” Darcy called out as Brenna started to the door. “So be here on time and looking like a female.”
Jack sighed into his beer when Brenna strode out. “She smells of sawdust,” he said more to himself than otherwise. “It’s very pleasant.”
“What are you doing sniffing at her?” Shawn demanded. Jack just blinked at him.
“What?”
“I’ll be back in a minute.” He shoved up the passthrough on the bar, let it fall with a bang that had Aidan cursing him, then rushed through the door after Brenna.
“Wait a minute. Mary Brenna? Just a damn minute.”
She paused by the door of her truck, and for one of the first times in her life felt the warm glow of pure female satisfaction stream through her. A fine feeling, she decided. A fine feeling altogether.
Schooling her face to show mild interest, she turned. “Is there a problem, then?”
“Yes, there’s a problem. What are you doing flirting with Jack Brennan that way?”
She let her eyebrows rise up under the bill of her cap. “And what business might that be of yours, I’d like to know?”
“A matter of days ago you’re asking me to make love with you, and I turn around and you’re cozying up to Jack and making plans to have dinner with some Dubliner.”
She waited one beat, then two. “And?”
“And?” Flustered and furious, he glared at her. “And it’s not right.”
She only lifted a shoulder in dismissal, then turned to open the truck door.
“It’s not right,” he repeated, grabbing her again and turning her to face him. “I’m not having it.”
“So you said, in clear terms.”
“I don’t mean that.”
“Oh, well, if you’ve decided you’d like to have sex with me after all, I’ve changed my mind.”
“I haven’t decided—” He broke off, staggered. “Changed your mind?”
“I have. Kissing you wasn’t altogether what I thought it would be. So you were right and I was wrong.” She gave him a deliberately insulting pat on the cheek. “And that’s the end of it.”
“The hell it is.” He trapped her against the truck, quickly and firmly enough to have both excitement and annoyance rising inside her. “If I want you, I’ll have you, and that’s the end of it. Meanwhile, I want you to behave yourself.”
She couldn’t speak. She was certain that if she tried she would strangle on the words. So she did the only thing she could think of. She plowed her bunched fist into his gut.
It cost him some breath, and the color that temper had brought to his face drained completely. But he held his ground. The fact that he did, that he could, when she knew she had a solid punch, sent another trickle of excitement sliding through her.
“We’ll talk about this, Brenna, in private.”
“That’s fine. I’ve plenty to say.”
Satisfied that he’d made his point, he stepped back. “You can come by the cottage in the morning.”
Seething, she climbed into the truck, slammed the door. “I could,” she told him as she started the engine, “but I won’t. I came to you once, and you spurned me. I won’t be back.”
He stepped back again, to save his toes from being run over. If she wouldn’t come to him, he thought as she drove away, he’d find another way to get her alone so they could . . . come to terms, he supposed it was.
In private.
SEVEN
A BODY WOULD think the woman had never jumped into his arms and kissed him
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