The Mighty Quinns: Riley. Kate Hoffmann
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he said, hoping that the mention of her mother didn’t restart the tears. For a girl who appeared so fragile on the outside, Nan Galvin was made of steel beneath. “I can’t imagine losing my ma at such a young age. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” she said.
“But your father is still alive?”
Nan shook her head. “He died last spring. He was older than my mother. He never remarried. I used to think it was my fault, that he was so consumed with raising me that he didn’t have time for anything else. But once I got older, I realized he didn’t find someone else because my mother was his one and only love. He just wanted to be with her.” She glanced over at him. “Do you believe in that? That everyone has just one person they can love?”
It was a strange question to ask a total stranger, but then Nan never seemed to run out of questions. When she wanted information, she simply requested it. Riley could honestly say he’d never given the notion much thought. But she deserved an answer. “Sure. Why not? It would probably explain why I’m still single.”
“I don’t remember much about her,” Nan continued. “She had red hair and green eyes and the softest hands. She was an art teacher. Her great-grandparents came from Ireland. I think that’s why she named me Tiernan.”
“It’s a beautiful name. But I’ve never heard it used for a girl. It’s usually a boy’s name.”
“I know,” she said. “I looked it up. I guess she liked the way it sounded.”
“So what else have you planned to see?” he asked.
“Everything in and around Ballykirk,” Nan said.
“And why Ballykirk?”
“Because this is where my mother stayed twenty-seven years ago,” she said.
“I wonder if anyone about town would remember her?” Riley asked.
“I hope so,” she said softly. “I really hope so.”
Her voice was so soft, so filled with faith that he had to fight the impulse to stop the car and pull her into his arms and kiss her again. He’d always acted on his instincts, but this time, Riley decided to let his attraction to her simmer for a time. She’d booked the cottage for ten days.
He had plenty of time to woo her and he intended to take full advantage of any opportunity she offered.
BY THE TIME THEY neared Ballykirk, Nan had decided that Riley Quinn was the sexiest man she’d ever met. It wasn’t only the dark good looks. He had an endearing combination of boyish charm and masculine confidence that she found completely irresistible. Though kissing a stranger was rather scandalous for her usually conservative approach to men, it wasn’t difficult to understand her motives. He was just so kissable.
Her coworkers had teased her about vacation romances and Nan had laughed them off, but now she had to consider the possibility. She wasn’t the same person she was at home. From the moment she set foot on Irish soil, she’d felt a sense of freedom. If she could kiss him after knowing him for an hour, what would happen after a day?
Though Nan had had a few long-term relationships in the past, she couldn’t say she’d ever been in love. Perhaps her reluctance came from watching her father’s loneliness increase with every year that passed. In her world, lost love had the capacity to bring a great deal of pain, sometimes lasting a lifetime. So she’d never taken the risk, never completely surrendered her heart.
As for Riley, his charms would only go so far. Even if he was bent on kissing her again, she had no intention of falling in love with him. There was absolutely no future in it. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a vacation romance.
As they raced down the country roads, Riley pointed out interesting sights and accompanied his travelogue with witty stories about the local folk. Irish music blared from the car’s speakers and every now and then, he’d sing along, in a beautiful tenor voice.
As the warm August breeze blew through the open windows, Nan realized that she’d told the truth at the immigration desk. She was here for pleasure. But a different kind of pleasure—the kind that filled her senses, that made her body come alive and her mind open to new possibilities. The kind that only a man’s touch might bring.
Nan had always read that Ireland was a land filled with magic and now she understood why. From the moment she stepped out of the airport, she felt as if she’d been carried into another world. All around her, the colors were brighter and the sounds more beautiful. The air smelled sweet and the man sitting beside her had captured her imagination.
As they reached the coastline, Nan got a good view of the water, the road running along the edge of the rugged, windswept hills. Every gothic novel she’d ever read came to mind and she imagined the heroines standing alone on the cliffs, their skirts buffeted by the ocean breeze.
“That’s Ballykirk down there,” Riley said, pointing to a small gathering of whitewashed buildings on the waterfront.
But instead of continuing on to town, he turned up a narrow lane, taking her higher into the hills. “I thought the cottage would be closer to town,” she said.
“It’s not far,” he said. “A brisk walk is all. And there are bicycles at the cottage. And you’ll have the car.”
“The car I can’t drive,” she said.
He glanced over at her and grinned. “Just point it down the hill and take your foot off the brake. You’ll roll right into town.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Let’s get yourself settled and then I’ll give you a lesson later this afternoon. You’ll be tearing up the road in no time.”
He made one more turn and a pretty thatched-roof cottage came into view, its whitewashed exterior bright in the noonday sun. Riley pulled the car to stop on the road, outside a low drystone wall that surrounded the front yard. “Here we are,” he said. “Home sweet home.”
Nan looked out, then turned to him and smiled. “It’s so cute,” she said, overwhelmed with both relief and delight. “It’s so much prettier than the pictures.” She hopped out of the car and walked up to the iron gate. A garden filled with colorful blooms flanked the narrow front walk and she drew a deep breath of the perfumed air. As she looked more closely, she saw little cast-iron animals, peeking from beneath low-lying leaves.
“Look at this,” she said, bending down and pointing to one of the sculptures.
“Hedgehog,” Riley said. “My brother makes those. He has a blacksmith shop in town.” He opened the trunk of the car. “Go on. The door is open. I’ll bring your bags.”
She ran up the walk, flung open the rough plank door and stepped inside. The entrance led into a simple living area with a worn wood floor. Rag rugs were scattered about and a huge hearth dominated one wall. Opposite the front door, and next to the back door, the kitchen was tucked into a small room with an adjoining bathroom. A collection of shabby chintz furniture, the colors a pretty contrast against the rough white walls, was gathered around the hearth.
Both bedrooms were tiny, but like the rest of the cottage, quaintly furnished. She circled around the old iron bed, her hand smoothing over the handmade quilt, then she threw open the window set in the thick wall. The breeze swept away the stuffy air and Nan fell back onto the bed, completely pleased with her surroundings. “It’s perfect,” she whispered.
“This used to be my room.” Riley stepped through the doorway and placed her suitcase on the other side of the bed. “My brothers, Kellan and Danny, and me had this room, and my ma and da had the other. And my two sisters, Shanna and Claire, had the loft above us.”
“It’s cozy,” she said. “I love it.” She sniffed. “What’s that smell?”
“Peat. We burn it in the hearth. The cottage doesn’t have heat, but it’s August so you shouldn’t be chilly.