his chin and looked upwards. Then he looked back at the deadpan expression on her face. ‘What?’
‘I think your halo’s a little crooked.’
And just like that the victory was taken away from him. A burst of deep, resonating laughter escaped his lips. It had been one hell of a long time since anyone had spoken to him like she did. It was refreshing as be damned.
Colleen rewarded him with a glorious smile in return, ‘Make yourself useful, then, and move the barrow. Back, Meg.’
The smile remained on his face as they made their way down the line of stables. Watching each horse from the corner of his eye, he observed how Colleen efficiently manoeuvred the animals, and did what she had to do with an ease of movement that spoke of confidence and physical ability, even with her ungainly size.
He allowed himself to study her closer.
She was very different from the women he’d known for most of his adult life. When he dated he dated in NewYork—his base for his travels. In New York he had the job that supported his many meanderings around the world in search of something he’d never found. In New York he filled in time between work and trips with the kind of women who dated professionally, who knew what face to present to the kind of guy they were trying to get. They dressed in clothes that accentuated their figures, had manicured nails, and hair that was tamed in such a way it was supposed to look natural. But Colleen…
Colleen was what Colleen was; there was no carefully constructed outer appearance. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and from the exertion involved in her task; her blonde hair was already escaping in long curling strands from the soft band that held it in a single ponytail at the nape of her neck. The long lashes that framed her startling blue eyes were free from mascara—as free as her full lips were from lipstick. In fact the redness of her lips was only due to how she would chew on them with the edge of her even white teeth as she concentrated on what she was doing.
And the rumour about pregnant women seeming to glow was apparently true too. All in all, she was the most naturally gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. And for the first time in his life Eamonn was finding a pregnant woman highly attractive.
What would be the point in that, though? It wasn’t as if anything could come of it. His life was in New York, and the other places he journeyed to, and hers was in this tiny corner of Ireland he’d walked away from. With her horses. And it wasn’t as if he spent a whole heap of time around kids—well, not every day anyway. A purely physical relationship was out of the question too. Because, apart from the most obvious restrictions, she was Colleen. She was practically family.
He was obviously a lot more tired than he’d thought. And he hadn’t had a recent partner to distract him in a while. Something he would have to remedy when he got home.
Eamonn mulled it over as he pulled the barrow back from the door and moved to the next one.
Colleen was obviously a very capable woman. So what had him wheeling a barrow for her and offering to be her guardian angel? Being an angel wasn’t something he was famous for, after all.
Maybe it was simply the age-old gene that demanded that the male of the species protect the female while she carried a child? A genetic thing in Colleen’s make-up that made her attractive to him, so that he felt the need to be protective towards her?
He smiled at the thought. Nah. If that was all it was then he’d be chasing around after every vaguely pregnant woman, opening doors and offering to carry shopping. Though he guessed if he ever took a bus or a train anywhere he would give up his seat. But then he didn’t need to take a bus or a train, he had a driver, and all it really proved was that he still had good manners.
It was more likely to be some kind of guilt.
And that thought made him frown. How could he hope to fix past wrongs by helping push a wheelbarrow around the yard now?
But, back amongst all the memories he had chosen not to remember about home, there had always been the hope that things would be better than he’d left them. That somewhere a simple form of happiness existed. Maybe by helping Colleen a little he could build that for her. Some.
At least before he pulled the rug out from under her feet. It certainly might make him feel better when he did.
‘You’ll give yourself a headache, y’know.’
He blinked as she stepped towards the door. ‘I’ll what?’
Colleen smiled a soft smile, her eyes twinkling in amusement. ‘With all that thinking you’re doing. You’ll give yourself a headache.’
Eamonn found himself momentarily caught off guard again by her directness. When was the last time he’d been in the company of someone who said what they thought out loud at the drop of a hat?
Maybe it was a reflection of how far he’d gone in the world, of how successful he’d become. People no longer had that kind of honesty around him. And yet, if more people did, he’d probably have more respect for them. Like he did now, for Colleen.
There was a girlish giggle from the stable. ‘Don’t people have conversations in America?’
‘Yeah, they do. But I guess I’m not used to someone being as blunt as you are.’
Colleen raised her chin and blinked a couple of times, a small line appearing between her arched eyebrows. ‘Have you ever considered that that might be a reflection on you? You never were all that chatty, y’know. Puts people on edge—makes them careful about what they say.’
‘I talk to people every day. It comes with the job.’
‘And when’s the last time you talked to someone about something that wasn’t work-related?’
Good question.
She stepped towards the door, waiting for him to move the wheelbarrow as she absentmindedly stroked the horse’s neck. And she spoke again, her voice lower. ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’
The barrow stayed still, keeping her prisoner inside the stable as Eamonn studied her intently. Then he shook his head. ‘Don’t you ever just think about things inside your head sometimes, without saying them out loud?’
Colleen went silent, something crossing over her face—something fleeting. But it had been there. Then as quickly as it had arrived it was gone, and she shrugged her shoulders. ‘If I always say what I think then people don’t have to try and read between the lines. There’s less of a problem with interpretation. And that way mistakes are less likely to get made.’
Somehow Eamonn just knew there was a story behind that. But even as he phrased the question in his head she was pointing at the wheelbarrow. ‘I thought you were helping?’
And the moment to ask her was gone as he moved the barricade. Maybe just because it was easier to let it go, not because he didn’t want to know. He did. He was curious about her.
But curiosity wasn’t really on the agenda. He wouldn’t be there long enough, and it wouldn’t matter when he left. Because he had no intention of ever coming back. There was nothing in Ireland that could hold him.
Though if Colleen hadn’t been pregnant he supposed he might have stayed to play a while, to find out what was beneath her independent, capable façade. He was only human, after all.
