Chasing River (Burying Water #3) (42 page)

“We have caves in Ireland, too. You didn’t have to make me come all the way out here,” he murmurs in that light brogue that makes my heart pang. He steps into me, the familiar mix of soap and cologne stirring my senses, even though I’m still in shock.

“What are you . . . How . . .”

“You walked right past me in the lobby.” He chuckles. “I’ve been sitting down there, waiting for you since noon. I figured I’d just follow you up here and let you drop your bags before I surprised you. Even the receptionist was in on it.” A mock frown creases his forehead. “You know, you really should be more aware of your surroundings. It’s gotten you into some trouble before. Have you forgotten already?”

That’s why he wanted to know what time I was getting in.
But,
how
is he here? A thought strikes me, along with a hint of panic. “You came here legally, right?”

He chuckles against my ear, sending shivers through my body. “My passport came through two days ago.”

“Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me!” I’m laughing, even as tears slide down my cheeks. Because I’m just so incredibly happy.

He tosses his bag to the rustic tile floor, and then, with his hands free, he ropes his arms full around my body. “I was afraid I’d have issues with customs once I landed, and I didn’t want to have to explain that to you, if I was sent back. Duffy warned me that they rarely ask about a criminal record but, if they did, not to lie.”

“
Detective
Duffy?”

“Yeah, I helped him out with some information on an extortion case for this fella who owns a few chips shops around Dublin, and he agreed to sign my application for me as a guarantor. Can you believe it?” He smiles sheepishly. “He’s actually alright.”

“So . . .” I can’t help but simply stare up at his handsome face for a long moment. He’s here, in the flesh, on my adventure with me. “I just can’t believe that you’re here. For how long?”

He shrugs. “As long as you’re in the EU and I don’t run into trouble. You still have Greece and the Czech Republic, right?”

“And Germany.”

“Then I guess for a while. Assuming you’re okay with that.” His mouth seals over mine in a kiss. That uncontrollable physical craving for River comes alive again, as it always seems to when I’m around him, lighting a fire in my veins.

“So?” He releases me and wanders over to shut the running water off. “What are we going to see first? I passed a church in a cave not far from here. Thought you’d like that.”

I look at the tub—now half-full of water—and at the bed. “You want to go sightseeing right
now
?” All thoughts of exploration disappeared the second I laid eyes on him.

“I do. Right now.” He pulls me into his chest, the feel of him hard against my stomach contradicting his words. “And then I want to come back here, light all these candles . . .” He kisses me again. “. . . and tell you a story about a lowly Irish peasant bartender who falls in love with a beautiful American princess.” He kisses me yet again, hard enough that I don’t think we’re going to get past the door at all today. “Do you want to hear that one?”

I do. I may not have all this figured out, but whatever time and space I’ve gained from leaving River hasn’t changed what I’ve struggled to accept as possible until now. “Only if it ends with her falling in love with him and them living happily ever after.”

Rich green pleading eyes stare down at me. “I truly hope it does.”

“Look at that! Me pint seems to be empty around the same time that me instrument cocks up. Now, how’s that?” Collin chirps over his microphone.

I look across the bar to River, who’s already holding a glass to the Smithwick’s tap, shaking his head at their demanding musician. He’s grinning, though. He’s been grinning all day since the first customer walked through the doors of Delaney’s at eleven this morning. A steady stream has followed since, old regulars and newcomers, curious to step foot into the “new and improved” Irish pub.

It’s a zoo in here now.

Fourteen months after the bombing, with overwhelming support from the community to get the new building up and running, River and his family are once again pouring pints. They’ve done surprisingly well to replicate the look of the old place with antiques and mismatched tables that fit eclectically well.

“Would you mind passing this on to him so he’ll start playing again?” River leans across the bar to chase the request with a kiss. He’s also been doing that all day, and all day yesterday, since picking me up from the airport.

I weave through the crowd with the pint in hand, narrowly avoiding several elbows and backs.

“Oh . . . I must be special, to have this one serving me.” Several whistles sound around the crowded bar and my cheeks burn at the attention. “Thanks, love.” Collin winks at me once before sucking back a large gulp. He sets his glass down beside him and begins strumming his guitar again. “Would you look at that? Is there anything beer can’t fix?”

A chorus of “no!” explodes.

“Amber!” Marion hollers from her makeshift station some fifteen feet away, stirring a cauldron’s worth of stew that sits on a portable heating element. “Ya must be hungry!” River said she’s been cooking for days, getting ready for the grand opening.

“I’m good, actually!” I yell back, because it’s getting so loud in here.

“You’re too skinny. Come here and take this now. Don’t make me call your father and tell him ya turned your nose up at me stew.”

Rowen passes between us with a tray full of drinks, his stride different from before but solid. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t know he relied on a prosthetic leg. Luckily the nerve damage that the doctors warned about is minimal. “She’s trying to fatten you up so you can bear her grandchildren.”

I laugh, though I’m sure he’s right. I’ve traveled back and forth from Portland to Dublin nearly once a month for almost a year now, and I don’t think I’ve left once without Marion or Seamus making a comment about a wedding or a baby. “River said you and your old girlfriend have been spending a lot of time together. Maybe you two can hurry it up then?”

He snorts. “Irene and I are just friends. She can’t handle all these birds clamoring all over me, waiting to get a look at my stump.”

“
Oh my God
.” I smack him playfully across the arm, but I’m laughing.

He grins. “By the way, have you seen Ivy lately?”

“No, but I talked to her. She’s loving San Francisco.” Ivy’s a bit of a nomad, it would seem. She left Dublin last fall, ready for another change. I keep meaning to go down and visit her in California.

“Good. Well . . . tell her I said hi when you talk to her next.”

“I will. She’ll be happy to hear that.” Whatever they were to each other, I’m glad Rowen and Ivy left things amicably.

“Amber!” Marion slops a spoonful into a Styrofoam cup and holds it out to me, her expression stern. Seamus sits beside her, watching with amusement.

“You had better take it before she tries to spoon-feed you,” Rowen warns.

I make my way over and accept the cup with a smile, earning her nod of approval. “Grand turnout, isn’t it?”

“It is! I’m so happy for you.”

She lifts her pint in the air. “And for you. You’ve been a blessing to us all, lending your help, bringing such joy to River in these difficult times.” Sadness flickers in her eyes as she takes a sip, and I know she’s thinking about her oldest child. River told me that she visited him just last week, on his birthday, after months of no contact from anyone in the family. She’s the only one who has. Apparently, he begged her to try and convince his brothers to see him.

I can’t bring myself to persuade River to visit.

“Amber!” River waves me over to join him behind the bar. I’ve spent so much time in Delaney’s in the last two months, helping get it ready, that it feels comfortable for me now. I even know how to pour a perfect pint of Guinness. Rowen and I have regular competitions.

River holds one arm out and I happily settle against his chest, willing to stay right here until my plane leaves for Oregon in five days. He nods toward someone. “Look who decided to visit us.”

I turn and find myself face-to-face with Detective Garda Garret Duffy.

“He even ordered a beer. Can you believe it?” River jokes, setting a pint down in front of the lanky man.

Duffy dips his head. “Good to see ya, Amber.”

I smile at the sound of his leprechaun accent. “You too. I hear you’ve been busy.” I’m much more in tune with Ireland’s happenings than I am of those of my own country now, especially since last October when Jimmy Conlon—the mastermind behind the St. Stephen’s Green bombing and the head of the “IRA” gang that Aengus belongs to—was gunned down on a quiet side street at night. Three months after that, someone killed his rival—that Beznick guy—in prison. The prison that Aengus is serving his time in. They have yet to charge anyone with either murder.

“I have. Cheers.” He lifts his glass and takes a sip. “So . . . River tells me you’ve been doing a lot of traveling. Must be tiring. And expensive.”

“It is,” I admit. I’m basically working at the hospital to pay for flights. I think my dad’s going to have a coronary soon. “But it’s worth it.”

“Have ya given any thought to applying for a longer stay?”

“I have,” I say warily.

“And?” Duffy’s eyes twinkle as they flash to River’s. “What’s stoppin’ ya?”

My suspicious nature tells me this isn’t so much a curious bystander’s question as something the two of them have orchestrated. Peering up at River’s mock-innocent face, his jaw covered in a day’s worth of stubble, I can’t help but laugh. “First your mother, now the police. Do you have no shame?”

He grins. “I won’t give up. Never. Not until you tell me to go to hell, and even then, I’ll still be waiting.”

I stretch onto my tiptoes to kiss him.

“Would you just say yes so the bastard will start pouring beer again?” Rowen yells from his side of the bar, earning a bunch of cheers.

“Alright, already. Quit your whining,” River hollers back, kissing me once before pulling away to grab two empty glasses with skilled hands. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow . . .”

Rowen throws his arms up. “Can ya believe this? Have some respect. I’m an amputee!”

I shake my head at the two of them as they get the crowd riled up with their banter.

“Amber.” Duffy leans in. “In all seriousness, I have a few connections which should make some of the approvals easier. Of course, you’d still need to meet all the requirements if you want to work, but I can help.
If
you’re ready.”

I smile.

And nod.

confluence:

A flowing together of two or more rivers or streams; a coming together of people.

Amber’s Travel Bucket List

1. Have a torrid affair with a foreigner. Country: TBD.

2. Stay for a night in Le Grotte della Civita. Matera, Italy.

3. Go scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef. Queensland, Australia.

4. Watch a burlesque show. Paris, France.

5. Toss a coin and make an epic wish at the Trevi Fountain. Rome, Italy.