Wild Irish Envy (Copperline #2) (5 page)

“Here,” she murmured, pointing towards an older man in the photo. “That’s my great-grandfather.” She moved her fingertip to a younger man, maybe early twenties, at his side. “And this is my grandfather.”

“Eoghan Williams, huh?” I read aloud from the informational label, then looked down to see her eyes sparkling up at me. “What are ya lookin’ at me like that for?”

“You pronounced it right,” she smiled, a bit dreamily. “Like Owen, but most people around here don’t get that.”

“Well,” I grinned back, “I’m a Dub. I think I can figure out how to say an Irish name here and there.”

We slowly made our way through the photos, so many with grim and serious expressions. A little farther, and there were some photos of when the strip mining began. When they started to carve out the pit. In one photo was what appeared to be a…

“Feckin’ hell, is that a rollercoaster?”

She looked at the photo that had caught my attention. “Yeah,” she said softly, and maybe a little bit sad. “Columbia Gardens.”

“I had no idea there was a rollercoaster anywhere near here. Where is it at?” I asked.

“It’s not there anymore. My grampa and my dad both would go on about it forever. Both of them spent every minute of their childhood summers there. The Anaconda Company had built it for the miners and their families when things were good.”

“What happened to it?”

“There was this catastrophic fire that wiped it out.”

“What a bleedin’ shame,” I said in a quiet voice, looking at another photo that showed the Garden in all its glory. As I looked at another, I saw some signs of the strip mining beginning around the edges of the picture. Another showed it encroaching even more, and yet another with the Pit butting right up against the rollercoaster.

“When did that fire happen?” I asked in a hushed tone, as though someone might overhear, not even really sure why I was speaking that way.

But she seemed to feel that same sensation, leaning in close to me and lowering her own voice. Like the ghosts of those responsible could hear. “In the early seventies.” She looked over at me with a raised brow. “Coincidentally, it was in a spot where the Company wanted to strip mine.”

“Hmm, that’s quite a coincidence,” I murmured, thinking it seemed like anything but.

“Yes,” she nodded, “very suspicious. There were some pretty hard feelings when that happened. It’s still something that people are very passionate about.”

I looked down at her right as she lifted her face up to me. For a second, I was a bit mesmerized. Not just by her beauty, but by the depth of her tone. The feeling she conveyed, having lived a life here in this unique town with its unique history. The moment was interrupted as a few other people meandered in, chatting quietly about the photos. She dropped her gaze with a slight smile and turned towards the doorway.

We made our way back up towards the Student Union Building, doing what could only be described as dawdling or lollygagging. Dragging our feet in an effort to delay saying the inevitable goodbye. But it was late in the afternoon, and she really had to rejoin her group.

“So what are ya plannin’ to study?” I asked.

I would be in my third year by the time she started, and it was very doubtful that I’d end up having any classes with her regardless. For the first time in a long while, though, probably in my entire life, I found myself actually
wanting
to be in school. I’d become sidetracked with life outside of class lately, playing music with the guys, turning metal into art… smoking a fair amount of weed. Things that tend to make a fella a bit lackadaisical about education. And, quite honestly, I didn’t really think that I wanted to be an engineer anyway. It was my major, but I didn’t really feel any drive, certainly nothing like I felt when I focused on the artistic side of my life.

“My major is Liberal Studies,” she replied.

“What the feck do ya do with that?” I laughed, and was rewarded with another flash of her sweet and sexy smile.

“It’s actually a great degree. I can go all kinds of directions with it. But I’m thinking social work. Sort of keeping it in the family. My mom was an addiction counselor. My dad’s a cop.”

Bloody hell,
I thought,
her dad was a cop.

She was feckin’ underage and her dad was a cop.

I could feel the blood leave my face at that thought, yet it did nothing to detract from the intense attraction I felt for her. I still was drawn to her something fierce. Having spent the greater part of the day listening to her, watching her, and wanting her, I sorta thought she may just be worth going to the clink for.

We stepped between the Main Hall and the Engineering Hall, up to the railing that gave an impressive view of the city below. The wind tousled her hair and sent the light, fresh scent of her perfume my way, making me want to lean closer, to breathe her in and press tender kisses along the curve of her neck.

Seemingly unaware of where my thoughts were at, she continued. “How about you? What is your major?”

“General Engineering, Welding option,” I replied, trying to sound cool. Probably failing. “Engineering mostly for my ma and da, because they want me to have a real career.” I tossed some air quotes around the word real. “But I’m more a hands-on guy. I like to make things. To create things with my hands. Welding is an awesome thing for that.”

As I spoke, my hands moved in a way that caught her eyes. As she looked back up at me, some purely illegal thoughts began to swirl through my brain. Triggered by the thought of holding her hand in mine, of my hands on her curvy little hips, and her ample, delicious-looking tits that were entirely too mouthwatering for a seventeen-year-old girl to have.

Seventeen. She’s only seventeen, ya eejit,
I reminded myself over and over.
And her da’s a feckin’ peeler.

As if the heavens above were trying to cool my ardor, the dark clouds that had slowly made their way from the west began to release big, cold, heavy drops. Starting with a few here and there and then unloading as we rushed inside the entryway of the Main Hall. Mountain storms could piss rain like no tomorrow, but they were generally short-lived. The veritable wall of water outside the wide arches of the building seemed to create a curtain, separating us from the rest of the world outside.

A sudden intimacy seemed to filter around us with the soothing rainfall pattering in the background. I couldn’t seem to stop my hand as it brushed a few drops of water from the curve of her cheekbone, and my fingers tingled where I touched her. Her eyes drifted almost closed with the touch, and her plump lips fell open ever so slightly.

“What’s your name?” I quietly asked.

She looked up at me just a moment before she answered. “Felicity.”

“Happiness…” My voice had grown a little too husky for my liking, but I couldn’t seem to control it. “That means happiness.”

“Right,” she replied with a slight tremble. It could have been from the chill in the air. Her dark-green t-shirt was a touch dampened from the rain, and it clung to her curves, accentuating her waist. The heat in her deep blue eyes, though, told me it was more than that. “My dad always says I’m his happiness.”

“It’s kind of a mouthful, though,” I shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. Ignoring the slight movement as the tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips, I tried to ease up the tension that suddenly filled the humid spring air of the entryway. “I’ll call ya Fliss.”

Her lips curved up into a gentle smile. “I like it.”

The rain let up, and moments later, a group of high schoolers, led by a frazzled looking instructor, came barreling out of the Engineering Hall next door.

“Felicity,” the instructor harrumphed, “I was wondering where we’d lost you.”

Fliss waved over at him, then turned back to look up at me. Her eyes held a bit of sadness and her smile faltered a little. “I better…” she trailed off, motioning to the group with her thumb.

“It was nice to meet ya, Fliss,” I murmured.

She took a few steps backward and started to turn, but then stopped.

“Wait,” she said, “I don’t know your name.”

“I’m Denny.”

She grinned and began to turn. “Well, Denny,” she said over her shoulder, “I’ll be seeing you around.”

And as I watched her petite curves and long thick hair as she walked away, I could only think one thought.

I sure feckin’ hope so.

Present day

About an hour into the flight, I noticed that the guy sitting somewhat next to Fliss had gotten the attention of the flight attendant. I couldn’t hear much, as he was talking in a hushed, agitated voice, but I did catch the words
‘sick
’ and
‘big presentation
’ and he appeared to be asking for a different seat. The stewardess appeared concerned, then offended and mildly outraged as he continued to speak. His voice grew a little louder and it became clear what his issue was.

“I can’t get sick. I have a meeting in New York in two days, and it is crucial to my business. I need to find another seat.”

“Sir, the plane is practically full. You’re lucky to have the seat in between you.”

“Maybe so,” he demanded, and the fuckhead even had the gall to press a handkerchief over his mouth to block the germs, “but I can’t sit next to someone who is ill.”

Ill? Fliss was ill?

The flight attendant pursed her lips. “Let me see what I can find, but you may end up in a center seat.”

“Whatever, I just cannot get sick right now,” the jackass muttered as she began to walk away, down the aisle towards me.

Don’t do it, Denny… Don’t do it.

“Excuse me, miss,” I said, ignoring that quiet little voice in my head, “I think I may know her. If she’s ill, I’ll sit there to help take care of her.”

The flight attendant looked back at the other guy.

“Works for me,” the jackass said.

My heart was thumping hard up against my ribs as I stood and stepped back, allowing him to take my seat. Thinking I was an idiot for what I was about to do, I took a deep breath and sat in his.

“Howya, Fliss,” I murmured.

Her head, lying against a small pillow propped up on the cabin wall, jerked around and her wide blue eyes fixed on me. I’d dreamt of the color. For years really. All that time I waited. All that time I had pushed her from my mind and told myself it could never happen.

“Denny?” she croaked. Her face was pale, and she was clearly feverish with sweat-dampened tendrils pressed to her forehead. Initially, in spite of her obvious illness, she almost appeared elated. She weaved towards me a little before straightening up in her seat, blinking a few times like it might clear me from her sight. “What are you… I don’t…”

“You look as sick as a small hospital,” I said.

She just sort of looked at me for a moment before she replied, looking sad and lost and confused. “I don’t know what that even means.”

“Ya look like pure shite,” I explained, instantly regretting it when her expression fell and tears filled her eyes.

“Fuck off,” she murmur, turning towards the window. “If you’re just sitting here to be a dick, you can leave.”

I shook my head. “Actually, I can’t. I gave away my seat.”

“Fine, I’ll just ignore you then.” Reaching down to her earbuds, she placed them in her ears and propped her head up on the pillow again, looking out the window. Doing her best to pretend I didn’t exist. I couldn’t just leave it like that.

“Fliss,” I said, tapping her on the shoulder. “Fliss, hey…”

She yanked the earbuds out of her ears and glared back at me. “What, Denny? I’m really not feeling up to this right now.”

“I can tell. Have you got anything to take for your fever?”

She took a long moment and just watched me in speculation, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had been a long time since I was anything but curt and cold to her, and her shields were up. Finally, she pressed her lips together and she just sorta deflated, releasing the anger she’d been using to appear strong. “I took some Tylenol, but it doesn’t seem to be helping much. One minute I’m freezing, and the next I’m roasting.”