Dear God, he’s something to look at. Lucifer himself couldn’t hold a candle to Shawn O’Callaghan with all that thick, dark hair, square jaw, and green eyes. And it’s completely unfair how black his eyelashes are.
I shrug.
“There have been days that Shawn’s been a stubborn one, and that’s the truth of it,” Keegan says. “Are you hungry, Lexi?”
“Oh, no. Shawn made dinner before we came tonight.” Shawn wasn’t kidding when he said he enjoyed cooking. He made grilled salmon with some kind of fancy rice and asparagus that just melted in my mouth.
And I’m not particularly fond of the green stalks.
“Next time, don’t fill your belly before you arrive, and we’ll feed you some proper Irish food.” Keegan winks and then moves down the bar to wait on other customers.
The music has slowed, and Maggie now croons a ballad about boys going to war and the girls who pine for them at home.
Suddenly, Shawn tugs me off the stool and sweeps me into his arms, dancing me around the bar.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” I say, trying to keep up with him.
“Seems that you are,” he says. “All you have to do is move with me.”
“I’m clumsy.”
“You’re quite lovely,” he replies, and I’m not sure what to say to that. “Even when you’re calling me a stubborn ass.”
“I said mule.”
“Same difference.” He moves effortlessly. His big body is graceful as he guides me around the floor. “I liked seeing you at the bar.”
“I’m completely out of my element here.”
His lips twitch with a half-smile. “I can see that. But you’ll get used to it. No one means anyone harm here. It’s a happy, lively crowd, and one I enjoy being around on an evening now and again.”
I can’t help myself. I let my fingers slip into the hair at the back of his neck. It’s soft, running like silk over my skin.
“It’s quite different from the quiet at your house when you’re working.”
“You’re absolutely right. I can’t be alone in the silence all the damn time. A person could go crazy.”
I frown and glance over his shoulder to watch Maggie lean in and share a microphone with another man as they sing in harmony.
“I spend most of my time alone in the silence,” I murmur. “I quite prefer it.”
“You need people eventually.” He turns his head, and his lips graze my temple, sending shockwaves down my spine and straight to my core as if his lips carry electric currents.
I’ve never been so frustrated by a man and yet want to climb him so badly in all of my life.
The slow song ends, and just as I’m about to return to the bar, Shawn catches my elbow and swings me around into a fast-paced dance. If I had time to think, I’d be mortified. Instead, all I can do is try to keep up with him and not fall on my face.
He spins and twirls me about, singing loudly along with the song.
It seems Maggie isn’t the only one with pipes in the family.
And as quickly as it began, the song ends, and I’m in Shawn’s arms, panting and laughing and staring up into his happy face.
He leans closer, and I swear he’s going to kiss me.
Right here.
In front of all these people.
But before his lips have a chance to meet mine, Keegan calls out from behind the bar.
“Shawn, these food orders aren’t going to fill themselves, mate.”
“Bloody arse,” Shawn mutters before setting me back on my stool. “I’ll be back out in a bit.”
He hurries through the door to the kitchen. I take a deep breath and stare down at my glass of wine as the pub continues swirling around me, the patrons singing and dancing and laughing.
I’ve been in Shawn O’Callaghan’s arms twice in one day. And he’s taken me by surprise with it both times. How’s a woman supposed to breathe around him?
“Finally, I can take a quick moment to say hello properly.” Maggie smiles as she stands next to me. She slips a foot out of her shoe and starts digging her thumb into the arch. “I bought these new shoes, but they’re killing me. Supposed to be for people on their feet all day, but I call bullshit on that one.”
I blink down at the shoe on the floor and then back at Maggie. “Before I was able to write professionally, I was a nurse. I can send you a list of good shoes to try.”
“I’d love that,” Maggie replies. “So, you were a nurse?”
“A very long time ago. It’s been at least ten years since I worked with patients.”
She smiles as she switches feet to rub. “I want to hear all about it sometime. For now, I have to get through about six more hours of these torture devices. Maybe I should go barefoot.”
I stare at the floor dubiously. “With all of the spilled drinks and food? You don’t want to get botulism or something.”
“You have a point. Keegan, I need two pints of Guinness, a shot of Jameson, and a margarita.”
Keegan scowls. “I don’t make margaritas.”
“I know. I told them that, but they insisted I try. Probably a tourist.” She shrugs. “Give them a shot of tequila instead. While you fill that, I need to place an order with Shawn.”
She hurries away, and I watch Keegan as he pulls the taps and starts to build a Guinness. I didn’t know it was described as building a Guinness until this evening.
I’m storing all of this information up for a future book. It’s too interesting.
“Do many murders take place amongst the Irish?” I ask Keegan, who raises a brow.
“Are you planning to kill him, then? What’ll it take to get you to wait until this evening is over? I don’t have anyone on hand to fill in in the kitchen.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, I’m wondering because I might like to write a thriller with an Irish foundation.”
“Would you now? Well, of course there’s murder to be had when humans are involved. Maybe a man wandered from his marital bed. Or a lad got tied up with the Irish mafia—which is a thing, by the way. There are all kinds of possibilities. Or, you could take the story in another direction.”
“What kind of direction is that?”
“Well, the land of Ireland is full of legends. Ghosts, the Tuatha de Danann—what you’d call faeries. You name it.”
“Are you suggesting I write a story with a paranormal twist?”
“Why not? It would be a story I’d read, I’ll tell you that.” Keegan winks at me as he finishes loading Maggie’s tray, just as she bustles out of the kitchen with two bowls of stew.
“That smells amazing.”
“It’s my mother’s recipe,” Maggie says. “She used to make it every day for the pub when she and Da still owned the place. Now, I make it instead. But the recipe is the same. I’ll fetch you some.”
“I ate already.”
“You danced and have been here for a couple of hours. A little bowl of stew won’t hurt you,” Maggie says, talking me right into it.
“Do you mind if I go back and see Shawn?” I ask.
“Not at all,” Keegan says, pointing to the door. “Help yourself. Be at home here, Lexi. And I mean that.”