The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

from a tree.”
    Aidan moved behind the bar with her to check the till. “Afraid it’s catching, darling?”
    “I would be, was I not immune to such weaknesses.” She heard the back door open again. “And speaking of clueless, there’s himself now.” Filled with affection and sentiment, Darcy headed for the kitchen to torment her brother.
     
     
    “What do you mean I can go?” Up to his elbows in potatoes, Shawn turned his head to stare at Aidan. “Go where?”
    “On your way. Kathy Duffy’ll be right along.”
    “Well . . . why?”
    “To cover for you.” Aidan had thought of a way, and saw no reason not to have a little fun at his brother’s expense while he was about it. “You have the evening off as you asked. Though it’s damned inconvenient.”
    Shawn shoved peelings into the garbage. “I never asked for the evening off.”
    “Well, it must’ve been your evil twin, then, or I’ve just had a brainstorm.” Fixing a scowl on his face, Aidan pulled open the refrigerator and plucked out a bottle of water. “I told you two days past when you asked that I’d work it out.”
    “But I . . . you’ve been dreaming. I’ve ten pounds of potatoes here to deal with. Why would I be making stovies if I was planning on having the evening free?”
    “That’s a question I can’t answer, but I’ve Kathy Duffy coming in, and there’s no need for both of you tonight.”
    “I’ve no plans but to do my job here. You’ve mixed something up.”
    Enjoying the timing, Aidan turned to Darcy as she came in. “Darcy, did Shawn ask for this evening free or did he not?”
    “He did, a couple of days back. Selfish bastard.” Not one to let an opportunity pass, she flashed a challenging look at Aidan. “And since you’re so bloody accommodating with our brother, I’m wanting Saturday afternoon off for myself.”
    “Saturday afternoon.” Aidan nearly choked on his water. “You can’t have a weekend day off as we’re heading into spring.”
    “Oh, so it’s all right for him.” She pointed a finger toward a baffled Shawn. “But it’s a different matter entirely for me.”
    “I don’t need the evening off.”
    “You’ve got it,” Aidan snapped, and ground his teeth as Darcy folded her arms. “A weekday evening’s a different matter from a weekend afternoon.”
    “All right, fine, then. I’ll take the evening off Monday next. Unless me being female means I don’t get the same considerations as this one.” Satisfied that she’d boxed Aidan in, she flounced out.
    “I don’t remember asking for tonight off,” Shawn said vaguely.
    “Aye, and you don’t remember to tie your bootlaces half the time.” Seriously annoyed, Aidan jerked a thumb at the door. “Out with you, you troublemaker.”
    Shoving up his sleeves and squaring his shoulders, Aidan went out to deal with his treacherous sister.
     
     
    She had everything under control, and quite the job of work it had been. It had to be special, and as close to perfect as she could manage. Shawn Gallagher would see he wasn’t the only one who could fuss and fiddle and set a nice scene.
    She’d been to the market and got all the makings. While Shawn had been busy cooking at the pub, she’d been doing the same at the cottage. Maybe she didn’t have his flair with such things, but she wasn’t altogether helpless.
    She’d chilled the wine and had even ferreted out a tin pail she’d scrubbed to use as an ice bucket. The champagne glasses she’d borrowed from Jude. Flutes, she’d called them, Brenna thought. And elegant they were.
    She’d set a nice table, if she said so herself. A pair of pretty plates and cloth napkins, the flowers she scavenged from her mother’s garden and the one at the cottage.
    Candles, she thought as she lighted them. Surely everything was in place for an atmosphere of romance and celebration.
    Oh, she couldn’t wait to see his face when she told him about his music. It had been a test of will and restraint not to shout out the news to everyone she’d passed that day. But it was for Shawn first.
    After they’d celebrated the thrill of it, and his future, lifted a glass or two, she’d tell him the rest. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—fumble with the words. Hadn’t she practiced them in her head all of the day?
    “I love you,” she said now, out loud to the empty room. “I think I always have, I know now I always will. Will you marry me?”
    There. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her heart, as it