The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

thought, was the most simple and most perfect of answers. Her eyes warmed and rather than throw the bottle, she set it aside to hug him.
    “What’s all this now?” He rubbed a hand over her back, patted when she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
    “What does it feel like, Shawn, to have sold your music? To know people will hear it, people who don’t know you? Is it grand?”
    “In part, aye, in part it’s the grandest thing. And it’s scary and befuddling all at the same time.”
    “And still, deep down, it was what you always wanted.”
    “It was. Keeping it deep down meant it didn’t have to be scary and befuddling.”
    “I like singing, but not as my life’s ambition. It’s just what we do, when the mood strikes. The Gallagher way.” She drew back. “Tell me this, then, now that you are selling your music, does it take any of the joy out of it, or make it seem like no more than a job?”
    “I thought it might, but no. When I sit down and there’s a tune in my head, it’s just the tune as it always was.” He stroked a finger under her chin. “What is it, darling? Tell me the trouble.”
    “Trevor wants to record me. Like a contract. Like a career. He thinks my voice will sell.”
    There were a dozen things he could say, jokes that any brother might spring to out of habit and that odd affection. Instead, because he sensed she needed it, he gave her the easy truth. “You’ll be wonderful, and send us all mad with pride.”
    She let out a sound that ended in a shaky laugh. “But it wouldn’t be like a session or a ceili . It would be real.”
    “You’ll travel, and get rich, which is what you’ve always wanted. And it’ll come from what’s inside you, which is the only way it’ll make you happy.”
    She picked up the ginger ale again. “You’re awfully smart all of a sudden.”
    “I’ve always been smart. You only admit it when I agree with you.”
    “Hmm.” She sipped again, her mind working quickly now, picking its way through obstacles and traps. “You and Brenna are working together in a sort of way. I mean you write the music, but she pushes it. She’s the one who arranged for Trevor to hear it. She’s in a way of being your business agent, or partner, or whatever you might call it.”
    Shawn’s answer was a grunt as he picked up his knife and began chopping again. “She can get on her bossy side about it, let me tell you.”
    That had Darcy biting her lip. “Does it cause problems between you?”
    “None that wouldn’t pass if she’d mind her own.” But when he glanced up again and saw Darcy’s face, he laughed. “Well, for heaven’s sake, why the worry? I’m just winding you up a bit. It’s true enough she pushes, and I can dig in when she shoves too fast and too hard. But I know it’s that she believes in me. It matters, nearly as much as it does that she loves me.”
    The pang inside her heart came hard and unwelcome. “The believing in could be as important, as satisfying, to some. As a start, anyway. As a start,” she repeated in a murmur. “You can’t finish until you start.”
    Determined to believe it, she took her apron off the hook and went into the pub, leaving Shawn frowning after her.
    It was never hard to arrange for a session at Gallagher’s. A word here, a word there. What better way was there, after all, to spend a rainy spring evening than with music and drink, with strangers and friends?
    By eight, the pub was packed and pints were flowing. Brenna had already moved behind the bar to lend a hand, and Darcy felt she herself had served enough stew to make an ocean.
    And Trevor Magee had yet to darken the door.
    The devil take him, she decided, and had a table of tourists glancing around uneasily as she served their drinks with a smile that glittered sharp and bright as a blade.
    If he couldn’t be bothered to accept her invitation for supper, music, and sex, what was the man made of? Stone? Ice? Steel? She slammed empties on the counter and had Aidan’s full attention.
    “Mind the glassware, Darcy. We’ve hardly one to spare with the crowd we have tonight.”
    “Bugger them,” she said under her breath. “Two pints Guinness, one Smitty’s, half of Harp, and two brandy and gingers.”
    “Take a water to Jude, would you, while the Guinness is settling, and see if you can talk her into having some stew. Her appetite’s been off the last day or so.”
    She wanted to snap, just on principle, but it wasn’t possible to take