The Mighty Quinns: Riley (2 page)

Though she should have been insulted, Nan's irritation suddenly vanished and she smiled reluctantly. “‘Stuff'? What do you mean by that?”

“Don't act like you don't know what I'm saying,” he replied. “You're beautiful, so don't get your knickers in a twist if I call you on it.” Riley reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, then handed it to her. “There's your name. Come on. Spilt milk. I'm in the car park.” He grabbed her suitcase and started across the road. When she didn't follow, he turned around and strode back, grabbing her carry-on. “It's this way,” he said. “Don't expect I'll carry you, too.”

Nan followed him across the road, hurrying to catch up with his long strides. “Maybe you should have had that cigarette,” she shouted. “Or maybe a big handful of mood elevators would help your negative attitude.”

He laughed out loud. “Now, why would you say that? I've been nothing but pleasant since the moment we met.”

“And I haven't?”

He sent her such a charming smile that Nan couldn't do much more than laugh herself. “You've been a darling,” he said.

It was impossible to be angry with the man, no matter how irresponsible he might appear to be. “Be careful,” she called as he hauled her suitcase up a set of steps. “That's brand-new luggage.”

Giving her a long-suffering glare, he picked the suitcase up in his arms and continued up the stairwell. “Jaysus, what do you have in here?”

“I'm staying for ten days. I needed my things.”

“And what might those things be?” he asked. “Con
struction supplies? I won't be asking you to build your own cottage.”

“I had to bring shampoo and soap and lotion. And all my guidebooks. And I had to bring some things to eat, like peanut butter and my favorite kumquat preserves. And my special tea. I know you won't have those things here.”

“They let you through with that?” he asked.

Nan stopped short, her hand clutching the railing. “What do you mean? Was I supposed to declare it? They said just meat and dairy products. And plants. The jars have never been opened and I—oh, no. Do you think they consider tea a plant?”

“Oh, I don't know. Here in Ireland, plants usually don't have leaves.”

“I have to go back.”

She reached for her suitcase, but he pulled it away and grabbed her arm. “Oh, no, you don't,” he warned. “We're not going back inside.”

“But I may have broken the law.”

“So you're a criminal now. You're just going to have to live with the shame. Come on, Alice Capone, let's get the hell out of here before you find another way to waste my day.”

“If I get in trouble, I'm going to blame you,” Nan said.

“Oh, you'll be fine. It'll be a grand adventure, your life on the run from the Irish authorities. It's better than kissing the Blarney stone, you know.”

“This is not how I imagined my vacation going,” she murmured.

When they reached the first landing, Riley stopped and turned back to her. “I'm sorry if I've been acting like a wanker.” He held out his hand and she grasped it. “We'll begin again. Hello, Miss Galvin. I'm Riley Quinn. Welcome to Ireland. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Nan smiled, staring down at their hands, so casually joined. He had beautiful hands, long, tapered fingers. So he was a nice guy at heart. “See, that wasn't so difficult.” The warmth of his hand seeped into hers and she realized the attraction she'd first felt for him was still there, only multiplied. A tingle snaked up her arm. He was handsome and funny and even a bit chivalrous. If he could sing, he'd be the perfect man. “Thank you,” she said.

He held on, a lot longer than she considered polite. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand, turning a benign greeting into something almost sexual. She didn't really mind. It felt nice. “The car is just up here,” he finally said, his voice soft, his gaze fixed on her face.

Nan tugged her hand away then stuck it in her jacket pocket for safekeeping. “Lead on,” she said.

 

R
ILEY DOWNSHIFTED
the car as they approached the interchange, then looked over his shoulder as he turned onto the roundabout. When another car nearly cut him off, he laid on the horn, cursing beneath his breath. He'd never make it back to the pub for the lunch rush, so why bother trying?

Nan was sitting stiffly in her seat, her eyes wide
and her hands folded on her lap as if she were praying. “Don't worry, I've never had a wreck.”

“It's a…” She cleared her throat. “It's a feckin' miracle,” she finished, imitating his Irish accent perfectly.

Her use of an Irish curse seemed so ridiculous coming from a proper little thing like her, he couldn't help but laugh. “There you go. You'll fit right in with a mouth like that.”

She grinned. “When in Ireland…”

Gad, she was pretty, Riley mused. Not at all what he usually pictured when he thought of American women. He'd met a fair number of American students in pubs all over Ireland, but his image had been finely honed early in life, by old episodes of
Baywatch
—long blond hair, tight bodies and tanned skin. And breasts that seemed a lot larger than those provided by nature.

Nan was fresh and feisty, with a very simple, straightforward beauty. Her short-cropped black hair curled softly around her face and long, dark lashes ringed vivid green eyes. She was stubborn and opinionated, the kind of woman who would make charming her a tough go, even for the most experienced Casanova. But then, Riley enjoyed a challenge.

Though he had been anxious to get back to the pub, now that they were on their way, Riley decided to get off the expressway and enjoy the rest of the trip. The local roads back to Ballykirk provided a picturesque drive and he found himself wanting to spend a bit more time with Nan before delivering her to the cottage.

“So, you mentioned that your family had a pub. Do
you serve lunches there? I'm starving. The food on the plane was awful.”

“Best lunch in all of Ballykirk,” he said.

“Are you the cook?”

“No. I tend to the bar every now and then.”

“You're a bartender.”

“No. Actually, I make my living as a musician. I write songs and sing. At the Hound and at other pubs around Ireland.”

“You sing,” she said, as if surprised by the news. “Really? Are—are you famous?”

“Depends on what you consider famous. I'm no Elvis. But people know who I am. They come to see me. They buy my CDs. But I'm not planning a stadium tour anytime soon.”

“Maybe I can come and hear you sing,” she said.

“Maybe you can,” Riley replied.

She sent him a smile that was so sweet, he wanted to reach out and touch her again. He clutched the wheel until his knuckles turned white, wondering why he found himself so attracted to the American. It wasn't just the fact that she was pretty in an unconventional way. There was a wide-eyed innocence about her that he found intriguing. Women her age were usually quite jaded, but not Nan. There wasn't a cynical bone in her body.

As they continued on to Ballykirk, Nan seemed fascinated by each new sight that passed by her window—the churches, the graveyards, the stone walls. When they rounded a curve in the road, Nan threw her arm out and grabbed his shoulder. “Stop!”

“What?” Riley slammed on the brakes and the car skidded. “Jaysus, did I hit something? What was it?”

“That,” she said, pointing over him to a crumbling round tower. “It's a round tower. I saw these in my guidebooks. They're 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.”