Mistletoe and Mr. Right Page 6

  “Not quite a year, actually.”

  Surprise nips at my neutral expression. I assumed they had broken up before he left for the States for college. If she’s telling the truth they were dating when he decided to leave. “Wow. So he decided to study abroad while you were still dating.”

  Her face shutters, closing me out, but it’s feels as though I hit a sore spot. Katie obviously holds her relationship with Brennan close to her heart, as though she’s determined to keep the truth of their romance a private memory shared by only two. When she responds, the familiarity between us has evaporated, her tone detached. “We gave it a go, although I’m not sure either of us really thought it would work out.”

  “Why’s that?” I prod, even though the way she’s biting all of the color out of her bottom lip betrays her discomfort.

  “The typical long-distance stuff. We’re young, it’s a big world, you know. We were too in love to say good-bye without a good reason, though, and I know I always thought we’d find our way back to each other in the end.” She shrugs, her chin jutting out. “No offense.”

  “It’s not your fault. I guess it must have come as a shock when he broke up with you, then.”

  “Oh, he didn’t break up with me. I broke up with him.”

  The development saps all of the hope from my blood. Leeches away the expectations I’ve harbored the past four months. It’s the worst possible scenario—that he’s not in love with me because he’s still in love with Katie.

  The land mine in question slides off the stool and wanders over to the counter, putting away the utensils and ingredients she used for her tea with a bounce in her step that says she knows she won this round. A vibration sets me on edge, as though someone plucked an invisible, taut guitar string that’s stretched across the center of the room. How much more don’t I know about Brennan?

  “Why did he go all the way to the States for college in the first place?” The words stick in my throat, losing confidence as they peel off, thinner than when they formed.

  “It was my idea, actually, but his parents definitely supported it. Brennan’s never been off the island and is sure he wants to take over Grady’s job and the farm. We thought he should experience more first.”

  The guy who majors in business, minors in German, and has never once said a single thing that made me think farming and Ireland had sunk so deep into his blood. The fact that he’d never talked about applying for a visa to stay in the States after graduation hadn’t escaped my attention, but we’ve only been dating four months.

  “Some people don’t need to travel to find what belongs to them,” I murmur, my heart in pieces because it knows what I can’t say, what Katie McBride doesn’t want to admit. I feel it in my bones, the connection between the two of them. It’s not gone, and the strength of it fills me with an envy I didn’t even know I possessed.

  She laughs at what must be a sick, serious expression on my face. “Come on, Jessica MacFarlane. We’re young. There is plenty of time to worry over the future.”

  The painful vibration increases, spiking my irritation. Why are people so intent on spouting that stupid mantra?

  Instead of losing it in front of Saint Katie and giving the Donnellys one more reason to look at me as the intruder, I smile and hop off my stool as well, rinsing my mug in the sink.

  “I’m going to go make myself presentable,” she announces, smoothing her near-perfect bed hair. “I didn’t expect to meet anyone else in the kitchen so early.”

  “Okay. I think I’ll make breakfast. Try to ingratiate myself.”

  “Don’t try too hard. The Irish hate that,” she replies with a sour smile before sweeping out of the room.

  Hmm. Whatever I make is going to have to be easy because too much of my brainpower is mulling over this morning’s conversation with Katie. I’d be inclined to like her if she didn’t have obvious plans to end up with my boyfriend.

  Waffles. Everyone has the ingredients in their kitchen cabinets and the Donnellys are no different. I don’t know if Irish people eat waffles, but it’s batter and syrup. Who doesn’t like that?

  Chapter Six

  The answer is the Donnellys, apparently. Brennan and his grandfather seem to feel different, at least managing to get forkfuls of breakfast past their lips. Mr. and Mrs. Donnelly pick at the pastries, which admittedly would have been better if they’d had syrup in the cupboards—or the press, as I’ve learned. I didn’t think about that, but with fruit, whipping cream that no longer has a pie to call home, and fresh honey as choices they aren’t terrible.

  “These are delicious, Jessica!” Katie exclaims a little too forcefully. “I swear, sweet breakfasts were always one of my favorite things about the States.”

  “They’d be better with syrup.” I’m trying not to be grouchy, but whatever.

  “Yeah. Sadly that’s never hopped its way over here.” She gives me another maybe-fake encouraging smile and chews another bite.

  “I’m going to bring some back the next time I come.” Brennan leans over and kisses my cheek, sweet support warping around me. “To have on hand.”

  The insinuation that he’s thinking I might be here to make waffles again some day doesn’t have the desired effect. I’m not sure what’s changed since I walked through the Donnellys front door. It’s a combination of things, really—his parents not approving, all of my little “quirks” that make me unacceptable, meeting his literal hero of an ex-girlfriend.

  And talking with Grady, a small voice whispers from the back of my mind.

  No. Grady might be pushing my boundaries, making me think a little differently for the first time in a long time, but it’s not like he can take Brennan’s place in my future.

  I cast a glance at my boyfriend, my doubts a towering stack of pebbles now. Maybe the place beside me in the future doesn’t fit him, either.

  Except it should. There’s no reason for my worries.

  I need time to think, to separate my frustration from clear thought, but with Christmas Eve tomorrow and my flight out not scheduled until the twenty-sixth, I’m stuck. In a situation of my own making.

  The downward spiral of my emotions roars in my ears, louder than the reluctant chewing around the table, when Grady appears through the door to the kitchen.

  The guy seems to have some kind of Jessie in Distress radar.

  Ugh, Now I’m calling myself Jessie. No one has called me that since my father died, over ten years ago now. More proof the handsome, irritating, fascinating farmhand is getting under my skin.

  “Good morning!” he bellows at the family before squinting at our plates. “What in the hell are you eating?”

  Mrs. Donnelly gives him an admonishing look that seems to confuse Grady further. “They’re waffles. An American tradition, you know, and Jessica made them for us.”

  “Lovely things, waffles,” Mr. Donnelly adds, then frowns as Grady gives his plate, which still holds the majority of his breakfast, a pointed stare.

  “Waffles, right,” Grady furrows his brow. “Don’t the Belgians eat those?”

  Brennan snorts but tries to cover it up with his napkin. Katie grins.

  It’s enough to make me giggle, as well, but I tamp it down, crossing my arms over my chest. “I think lots of people eat waffles. Though apparently not around here.”

  “Okay, well, now that’s settled, the reason I’m here is that the McCormacks asked me to look after their horses while they’re down in Dingle visiting their daughter and those wretched kids. Any takers on a morning ride so I don’t spend all day running ’em?” He glances around the table, eyebrows shooting up when they land on Katie. “Well, if it isn’t cute Katie McBride. What are you doing here?”

  “I was doing some innocent shopping when I was kidnapped by a dodgy bunch of bed-and-breakfast owners.” Katie sniffs, her smile infectious.

  Grady returns it, as charmed by her as everyone else. “A typical Tuesday night in Ennistymon, then?”

  “Pretty much. Saved me a bob o
r two for the taxi home, though.”

  “Oh, you two go on,” Mrs. Donnelly huffs. “We couldn’t let our Katie spend Christmas alone.”

  Grady bends at the waist and brushes a kiss on her ruddy cheek. “I know, Maeve. Lord above would fall down dead a second time if you left a single stray by the side of the road.”

  She swats him away but it’s clear that she’s pleased by his attention, and that her loves stretches to include every person around her table. With the possible exception of me, but if I’m being honest, they’ve handled my showing up unannounced and all of my slips and flubs with more grace than required—and her complaints about me after the first night were nothing more than a mother looking out for her son.

  They’re things I should be thinking about if I’m serious about Brennan. Finding the right match isn’t all about motivation and potential earning, as Grady pointed out. We have to fit in other ways.

  “Any takers for a ride or two? Katie, I know you’ll embarrass me with your skills but the horses would love it.” Grady turns coaxing dimples her direction. “It’ll be grand.”

  She shakes her head. “Everything’s grand with you, Grady, but I’m afraid I’m in the mood to do a bit more reading in front of the fire.”

  “Fine. Brennan? Granddad Donnelly?”

  “Don’t be a feckin’ eejit, boy,” the old man grunts.

  Brennan shakes his head in refusal and his parents don’t even respond, which looks expected.

  “I’d like to go,” I volunteer. It’s the perfect opportunity to get some much-needed space, even if I won’t technically be alone.

  Plus, this way I avoid watching Katie and Brennan catch up on old times, only to remember how happy they were then, which sounds like a unique form of torture.

  Maybe leaving them alone isn’t a great idea.

  “Are you sure you won’t come, Brennan?” I coax.

  “You ride?” Grady’s question tilts way up at the end, interrupting whatever my boyfriend’s reply was going to be—an excuse, by the look of things. Meanwhile the Donnellys’ farmhand peers at me as though the concept of me on a horse is akin to me walking on the moon.

  “I have, yes.” It’s true I’m not very outdoorsy, and it’s also true I haven’t been on the back of a horse since first grade, the last time I was at camp, but still. The old expression “it’s like riding a horse” has to come from somewhere.

  Or is the expression “like riding a bike?”

  Too late now.

  “Well, come on then. Got six horses to tote around before sundown.”

  “I’ve got to help clean up the kitchen first.” Both Katie and Mrs. Donnelly protest, saying they can handle it, but I refuse. “No, I made the mess. Just give me fifteen minutes, Grady.”

  He nods, already looking put out, which is weird considering what I thought was a connection in the barn last night. The sudden change adds an extra snarl to the hopeless tangle of confusion in my belly.

  “Meet you out front. The rest of you have a lovely day.”

  “Oh, hey, Grady.” Katie stops him with a touch on his arm. She’s gotten up and starts collecting plates and silverware.

  “Yep?”

  “Bunch of the old gang that’s around for the holiday are getting together in Ballyvaughan tonight, around eight. You should come. Brennan’s in, and so is Jessica. It’ll be grand.”

  I jerk my head around to look at Brennan, who told me nothing of this little excursion, but he’s ignoring my gaze in favor of another patty of black pudding. My stomach churns just looking at it disappear between his lips.

  “Oh, yeah, it’ll be grand. No doubt about that.” Grady shakes his head, looking amused enough to make me suspicious, and disappears from view.

  *

  “Are you sure you won’t come with me?” I ask again, wanting him to say yes but not willing to beg.

  “I don’t feel like being stinky and sore,” Brennan says, reaching for me and sliding his hands around my bare waist as I try to shrug into a flannel shirt borrowed from Molly. “But you look sexy as hell in that farmer’s getup.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” I tease, buttoning it up the rest of the way. Being naked—or even partially so—around Brennan is asking for trouble, and we agreed not to violate rules about sex under his mother’s roof.

  Being a devout Catholic she’s definitely into the whole no-sex-before-marriage idea. Even though her son and I definitely are into it, this is her house. It’s important to me to respect her beliefs. I’m so glad I remembered to squirrel that stupid pregnancy test away in my suitcase before anyone saw it.

  Brennan pulls me in for another kiss. I don’t refuse, even though I’m not feeling it. His tongue slides over my bottom lip, earning the groan he’s looking for, and I forget for a moment that everything’s shit, kissing him back.

  “You are killing me, Jessica MacFarlane. I want you so bad.”

  “Mmmm,” I murmur, wishing I wasn’t breathing quite so heavily. “But it’s only a couple more days. Just think how good it will be then.”

  He sighs and squeezes me once more before turning me loose, swatting my butt as I move toward the mirror. “I don’t know how it can be better than it’s been for the past six weeks. But fine.”

  “You’re adorable when you pout; has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Maybe.” He sticks out his lower lip, eyes shining with desire. “Is it working?”

  I laugh, Brennan laughs, and it feels so good to be at ease with each other. This is the first time we’ve been tested, and we’ll make it through it.

  “So what’s with this get-together tonight?”

  “Oh yeah, sorry I didn’t have time to mention it. Katie invited us last night, but with all the drama with Pop it kind of slipped my mind.”

  “Sure, it sounds like fun. I’d like to meet your friends.”

  I watch him in the mirror and glimpse the tiniest grimace as it passes over his face. Desperation to somehow salvage this—us—sends my heart racing, blood squirming like worms in my veins, but the answer as to how doesn’t come no matter how long I take to braid my hair.

  Once a touch of makeup hides the dark circles under my eyes, I turn and spread my arms. “How do I look?”

  “Damn well too good to be out riding horses with the like of Grady Callaghan,” he grumps.

  I stop, wondering if it’s wrong to ask the question, then deciding I don’t care. There’s no way to figure out where I fit on the Donnelly game board without understanding all the pieces. “Do you not like him or something?”

  “Grady? I like him fine. I like the idea of having my girlfriend out alone with him all day a little less.”

  The response turns his pouting decidedly not adorable, lifting the buried annoyances up onto my tongue. “Well, you could have come with me. But obviously you’d rather spend your time elsewhere today.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, that you’d rather curl up in front of the fire with your ex-girlfriend than hang out with your current one?”

  He stands up, eyes flashing, teeth grinding together. “No one told you to go horseback riding with Grady today. In fact, no one told you to come here at all, and now you want me to rearrange my time with my family because you’re not happy with the way your little manipulative surprise turned out?”

  The words pelt me like shots from a paintball gun, exploding in ugly splotches as they slam into my torso, arms, neck. It stings and it smells, and I blink back the tears filling me eyes. “Well, if that’s how you really feel about getting to spend some extra time with me, then I don’t know what we’re even doing here, Brennan.”

  His shoulders droop. “Look, it’s not how I feel about spending time with you. I just … this is … I don’t know. Not what I expected.”

  Not what I wanted seems to be more what he’s thinking.

  Brennan’s eyes meet mine, and they echo the confusion tripping up my reactions at every turn. “But regardless,
I don’t like the idea of you being alone with another guy.”

  “Well, I’m not going to sit around here all day.” I wait for him to change his mind about coming along, and when he doesn’t, I take a deep breath through my nose then blow it out through my mouth, wiping tears with the back of my hand. “I’d better get going.”

  I pause, waiting for an apology that doesn’t come, then head out into the cold.

  Chapter Seven

  “Ready then?” Grady growls when I step outside, squinting in the bright sunshine. He peers closer at my face and his frown deepens as he steps toward me. “Are you crying?”

  “No.” Not anymore.

  I make it clear with my tone and crossed arms that questions aren’t welcome even though the concern etched on his handsome face makes me want to fall into his arms and sob away my troubles. He respects my nonverbal cues, though it doesn’t stop his expression of disgust.

  The chill in the air does nothing to dampen the beauty of gray-blue skies stretching all the way to the horizon. Pristine white snow, nothing like the black slush that passes for the same thing in cities at home, and the gray rock and purple hues pushing through on the hillsides remind me that while the States can be beautiful in the winter, I’m not there. I’m somewhere new and wonderful, and this is an adventure that shouldn’t be wasted no matter how things turn out between my boyfriend and me.

  I cast a glance at Grady, who’s stretching his arms above his head and taking in the scenery with a rapt expression that would be more at home on someone who doesn’t wake up to such a thing every single day.

  Excitement dribbles past my sorrow. “I’m ready. How are we getting there?”

  “The McCormacks are just a couple of plots over. We’ll walk unless you’d rather not.” His blue eyes, brighter than the sky today, dare me to object.

  Thoughts of cold, wet feet and the likelihood of stepping in clumps of mud—or what I hope will be mud—dance through my head. The great outdoors and I have a relationship of respect. Which is to say I stay out of it as much as possible and it agrees not to go out of its way to kill me.