he muttered. “I’ve stuck my foot in it now. You’d be Nan Galvin?”
“I would be her,” Nan said. He assumed she was an old woman? What had she ever said or done that had given him that impression? “You were supposed to wait at baggage claim with a sign.”
He held out his hands and shrugged. “I figured I’d recognize you when you came out. But you’re not old. I expected some lady with white hair and spectacles and sensible shoes.”
“Why, because I’m a librarian? That’s just silly stereotyping and I—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Well, partly. But there were … clues. You sounded old.”
“We’ve never spoken. We’ve only emailed. How could you possibly guess my age from a few emails?”
“I don’t know. You write old. And you just seemed so …”
“So what?”
“So … prissy. Not in a bad way, mind you. Your spelling was perfect and your emails were so organized and precise.”
“They were not!” In truth, they probably were. Nan prided herself on proper grammar and spelling. It was a professional responsibility that spilled into her personal life.
“You requested that I provide a premium brand of toilet tissue. And that the house be clean of all insects, spiders and bugs, living and dead. I’d call that finicky. Besides, you said you’d wanted to visit the land of your ancestors before you died, so I put two and two together and came up with … well, definitely not you.”
Nan held fast to her temper. It wouldn’t do to make this man angry now. He was her only mode of transportation. “You did say you’d meet me at baggage claim. And you weren’t there. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I got tired of waiting. I’ve been standing around here for two feckin’ hours waiting on you.”
“I was supposed to arrive three hours ago.”
“Well, I was running late. I’ve got things to do today and I’m wasting my time searching for an old lady who doesn’t exist. I have to get back to the pub.”
“I’m sorry to keep you from your late-morning drinking,” she snapped. Yes, he was sexy, but he also could be a bit of an ass.
“My family owns a pub,” Riley explained. “I work there, along with my brothers.”
“And you run a guesthouse?”
“It doesn’t take much running, but, yes, I do that, too—plus lots of other things. Like driving demanding tourists home from the airport.” He shook his head. “You could have told me you were a fine bit of stuff.”
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. “Construction 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
