The Mighty Quinns: Riley. Kate Hoffmann
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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.