“You’re down the hall a bit,” he said when she slowed near his door.
“Mmm.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Am I? Feels like I’m right here where I should be.”
He tucked her into his side, planting a kiss on her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair and a perfume he’d been dizzy on all night.
She smiled up at him. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Taking you to your room and making sure you’re safe and sound?”
“Not taking me into your room so I can see how teenage you lived.”
He laughed. “My mother’s had decorators in there three times since I moved out. Any shreds of teenage me are long gone, or rotting in a storage center somewhere.”
“My, aren’t we a sentimentalist?” She looked up at him with a tease, but her eyes were as clear as the subtle accusation. Maybe she wasn’t so tipsy, just genuinely happy.
“I can be, about certain things.”
“Like?”
He thought for a minute. “A vortex marble collection. A wood-handled MegaCast fishing rod. A 1967 Pontiac GTO toy car the color of that dress you’re wearing. And a dog named Roscoe.”
She angled her head, confusion in her eyes. “Things you had as a little kid?” she guessed. “Things that…”
“That didn’t make the move to Buckingsham.”
“Oh.” She brushed her knuckles along his jaw. “Home things. I get that.”
He nodded, realizing that he’d never shared a single one of those missing pieces of his life with Savannah. And realizing, too, that merely having this conversation was a gross breach of every one of his rules and restrictions not to get close to a woman again.
But right then, with nothing but a door between them and his bed, he wanted every rule to disappear until morning.
“You get everything.” He pulled her closer, trying to satisfy himself with the sexy shape of her against his body and the insanely good smell of her hair when he kissed her head.
“Mmm.” She tipped her head back. “Hold me like that a little longer, Hot Landlord, and we’ll both get everything.”
He lowered his head and met her lips, each kiss still incredibly new and shockingly sweet. They’d kissed on the dance floor a few times and once by the bar. And one more time out on the veranda looking at the full moon.
But this kiss was different. This was one step away from everything.
She arched her back, her breasts pressed against his chest, angling her head to offer the tender skin of her jaw and throat. He kissed it all, dragging his lips over the smooth flesh, and running his hands up and down the hollows of her back.
“Josh…” She whispered his name into their kiss. “I don’t want to stand out here making out and get caught by your stepsister or mother or one of the butlers.”
He reached behind him and twisted the doorknob. “Are you sure?”
She backed away an inch, her pupils black with the same arousal that whipped through him. “Not sure of anything,” she admitted. “But…I like you.”
He searched her face, not sure what to say other than the obvious, which, by the way he was holding her, should be pretty damn obvious.
“And I want you,” she whispered, enough of an invitation in her voice for him to know she meant business.
And so did he. He nestled her into him, taking another long, wet, hot kiss. Their tongues danced and curled, while each breath grew shorter and more difficult to take. She flattened her hands over his chest, sliding down the tuxedo shirt, flicking at buttons, and—
“Get a room, kids.”
Brea. He gritted his teeth and relaxed his grip, realizing they’d both been so caught up they hadn’t heard her coming down the hall.
“There’s one right behind you,” she added as she breezed by, changed into jeans and a T-shirt, with a weekender-sized tote bag over her shoulder. “No one will do a bed check, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He glared at her. “Good night, Brea.”
She disappeared down the steps, leaving a trail of laughter behind her.
Darcy exhaled a breath he suspected she’d been holding for a few seconds longer than normal.
“Would you like to come inside?” he asked.
She searched his face, thinking. “Yes, but…that’s not what you want, is it?”
Yes…and no. “I want you to come in my room. In my bed. In my arms all night.”
The color in her cheeks deepened. “Then…we should…” She notched her head to the door.
“Go home.” The words—the truthful words—were out before he could stop himself.
“Excuse me?”
“Not here, Darcy. I don’t want to sleep with you for the first time in this house.”
She didn’t say anything, but held his gaze, waiting for more, which she deserved.
“I want it to be somewhere…” Perfect. “Else,” he finished. “Without the layer of this place hanging over me like ashes.”
She laughed a little. “It’s really not that bad here,” she said. “And your family, at least the people I met, have your best interests at heart.”
So they’d fooled her, too. “I have a house about an hour from here.”
She lifted her brows, surprised. “You do?”
“I built it. I’d love to show it to you, but the truth is, tonight, I’d rather go back to Bitter Bark and make your family’s Sunday dinner.”
Her jaw loosened. “Wow, you have been sprinkled with Kilcannon fairy dust.”
“One Kilcannon in particular.”
She smiled. “But not enough fairy dust for you to open that door behind you and make me a happy woman.”
But would he be a happy man? “I’m not supposed to be falling for you, Darcy. I don’t want to get emotionally involved. And this doesn’t feel like friends with dogs. But…” He tilted her chin up toward him. “I am falling for you. I’m already emotionally involved. And whatever we call this, I’m not going to start it in this house.”
She nodded slowly, stroking his shoulders as she thought about that. “And whatever we start is going to change everything.”
“Everything,” he agreed.
“Is that smart?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But God knows I’ve done dumber things.”
She laughed softly and eased away. “I’ll sleep in my own room.”
He grunted a little. “Speaking of dumb things.”
“No, Josh, you’re right. It’s dangerous. It’s too soon. It’s…”
All we both want.
But she managed to extricate herself from his arms, wiggle her fingers. “If we leave now, we can be home by dawn, get a little sleep, and be at Waterford before the first Bloody Mary is poured.”
He snagged her for one more kiss. “Now. Are you sure?”
“Nope,” she said. “I’m confused, achy, and ready to throw caution to the wind.”
He tunneled his fingers into her hair to gently rub her head. “Not yet,” he said, knowing it was the right decision. “Let’s go home to Waterford.”
She backed up and narrowed her eyes. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but it’s not technically my home. Or yours.”
“It was just a figure of speech.”
But the look on her face said she wasn’t sure. And neither was he.
Chapter Sixteen
“Oh, lassie. I’m so glad you’re home.” Gramma Finnie swooped into the kitchen moments after Darcy and Josh walked into the house at Waterford Farm the next day. She wore her church clothes, because Darcy had carefully timed their arrival for when the family who’d attended this morning showed up after the service.
“So am I,” Darcy said and surprised herself by how much she meant it.
They’d pulled into the Ambrose Acres parking area at sunrise and separated for a few hours of sleep and showers. Darcy was still a little beat from the middle of the night drive home, when she and Josh had talked non-stop from Cornelius to Bi
tter Bark. But the moment they drove up to Waterford, Darcy knew the loss of sleep was worth it. And one look at Josh told her he completely agreed.
She’d prepared him well for what to expect at a Kilcannon Sunday dinner that got rolling in the early afternoon once those who’d gone to church arrived. There would be pitchers of Bloody Marys or shots of Jameson’s, legions of Kilcannons, and possibly some Mahoney cousins, plus many dogs and mediocre food because Dad cooked on Crystal’s day off. Oh, and killer dessert, because Gramma handled that.
Mostly, there’d be a lot of laughter and teasing and late afternoon dog walks, four-wheeler rides, or, if it rained, a highly competitive Mario Kart tournament.
With each description, he looked almost as excited as Christian, Andi and Liam’s little boy, who somehow always won that racing tournament, most likely because one of his uncles secretly let him.
As they’d walked up to the house, Darcy had taken a moment to appreciate how good Josh looked, even without sleep. He wore a soft maroon T-shirt with the sleeves pushed up, showing off strong forearms with a dusting of dark hair, and crisp khaki pants. A whole different look from his tux, but every bit as easy on the eyes. Maybe better.
But Gramma Finnie didn’t even take a moment to notice him.
“I need to show you something,” she said, tugging at Darcy’s hand after they hugged. “Quick, lass.”
“Okay, but Josh and I want to see Stella and Kookie. Where are they?” She’d totally expected Kookie to come flying at them the minute her Darcy Radar went off. But the only dog in sight was Rusty. The setter was curled in the corner of the kitchen, waiting for his master to arrive.
“Exactly. Come with me.” Gramma gestured to Josh. “You, too, lad. Quickly, though.”
Curious, they followed her up the main stairs, around a corner, and to the back stairs that led up to the third-floor apartment where Gramma lived. Darcy watched her navigate the stairs with ease, feeling a burst of love for the little old lady who loved to tell stories and write blogs.
Glancing over her shoulder, Darcy winked at Josh, who gave her a secret, sexy smile. And another message: Your house beats my house by a long shot.
Oh yes. She’d found another person to silently communicate with. She didn’t know whether to cheer or run. Not that Josh seemed like the type to step all over her hard-won independence, but still. The way she’d felt in his arms last night? Scary. Wonderful, but scary.
Cool heads had prevailed, but that kind of resistance wasn’t going to last long with this insane chemistry.
“I checked on them a minute ago,” Gramma whispered as they got to the top of the steps and reached her sitting room. She barely paused as her low-heeled shoes, worn only on Sundays, tapped on the hardwood and crossed the braided rug. “So I bet they’re still in the same position.” She ushered them toward her bedroom without glancing at the desk in the corner with a closed laptop and the graphic on the wall above it that said, Life is short, blog unconditionally.
But Josh did. Darcy caught him drinking in the cottagelike feel of Gramma’s private apartment with the juxtaposition of her modern habits, giving Darcy another jolt of pride.
“Look.” Very carefully and silently, Gramma Finnie opened the bedroom door and waved them both to peek in.
Darcy sucked in a soft gasp at the sight of Kookie perched on one of Gramma’s many pillows, staring at the cradle that Darcy and Josh had brought over with the dogs. And in that cradle, Stella was curled up in a corner, snoring softly, utterly content.
“She loves it in there,” Gramma whispered. “Kookie let her sleep there last night.”
“The ultimate sacrifice,” Darcy muttered, turning to Josh. “Kookie wouldn’t share that cradle with a stuffed animal, let alone a live one.”
“A live one who despises her,” he added in the same hushed tone.
“I swear Kookie guarded her all night,” Gramma said.
“Oh.” Darcy pressed her fingers to her lips to contain her response, but it was loud enough for Stella’s ears to perk and the little white dog to lift her head. Kookie stood and took a few steps closer to the cradle, barking once.
“What are they talking about?” Josh asked on a laugh.
“Dog speak,” Darcy said, stepping into the room, unable to keep her hands off her sweet pupper for one more second. “Kookie, you are such a good girl taking care of Stella.”
She gave in to the joy of seeing Darcy, scampering across the bed to jump into the arms of her mistress with her feathery tail whipping from side to side. “Good girl,” Darcy repeated, lifting her chin to accept the slathering of kisses Kookie bestowed.
In the cradle, Stella was up now, growling low at the voices with a low-grade frustration as clear as if she was saying, I can’t see you!
As though he understood that, Josh was next to her in a flash, picking her up and petting her head. “It’s okay, kid. I’m here. Shhh. You’re at Waterford Farm, and it doesn’t get any better than that.”
He placed a kiss on her head, his big, masculine hand adding reassuring strokes that totally calmed her down.
But not Darcy. Oh, no. She was anything but calm. No, her chest swelled with a wave of emotion that crashed over her when she looked at his silhouette against the sunshine pouring in through lace curtains. He was tender and sweet but big and sexy, and all she wanted to do was…heal Stella and heal him.
“She’s shaking,” he told them, gripping Stella’s little body closer to his chest.
Who wouldn’t be in his arms?
“She needs her jacket,” he added.
“It’s right here.” Gramma Finnie snagged the pink anxiety wrap off the dresser. “She doesn’t seem to need it in the cradle,” she said, handing it to him.
Josh set Stella on the bed and turned the jacket one way, then the other, trying to figure out how to put it on. “Can’t believe she slept in that cradle,” he said. “She supposedly wouldn’t sleep anywhere but her bed. Does this go…” He glanced up at Darcy, who handed him Kookie.
“Here, I know how to do it.”
They switched dog for jacket, and she easily slipped the Velcro straps around Stella’s neck, but Kookie barked as she watched.
“Don’t be jealous,” Darcy warned her. “I get to love other dogs.”
Kookie barked again, then added a low growl, making Darcy look up as she tightened the jacket under Stella’s quivering belly.
“She’s not jealous,” Gramma said. “She’s protecting Stella. Once Stella let her close, everything changed. Kookie licked her and nuzzled her and stands guard when anyone comes close.”
“That is so sweet,” Darcy exclaimed. “How did this happen?”
Gramma Finnie came closer and tugged at the sleeves of her summer-yellow cardigan. “I may have sung a wee Irish blessing over them.”
“And Shane trained them together, I’m guessing,” Darcy added, earning a frown from her grandmother.
“They were lovely with me,” Gramma continued. “And, in fact, inspired me to write my blog about friendship.”
“Aww.” Darcy put an around her grandmother’s narrow shoulders. “Did you whip out the good ships and wood ships?”
“Of course.” Gramma’s blue eyes twinkled as she looked at Josh, no doubt hoping for a new audience. “‘There are good ships and wood ships and ships that sail the sea.’”
“But the best ships are friendships and may they always be,” he finished, and Gramma Finnie actually gasped out loud.
“My mother’s mother was Irish,” he explained.
“Oh…my.” For a moment, Darcy thought Gramma was going to kiss him. Get in line, toots.
“Not first generation or anything,” he added. “But enough.”
“One drop of Irish blood is enough,” Gramma practically cooed. “’Tis time we celebrate with your first shot of Kilcannon Jameson’s.”
“Do you think Stella would come down for Sunday dinner?” Darcy asked Gramma. “Otherwise, I think I’ve lost Kookie to her.”
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“I’ll leave my doors open so she can come and go.” Gramma patted both dogs, then smiled up at Josh. “I hope you brought us good news for her, lad.”
“We did.”
Darcy’s heart did a little dip. We. Did he have to say that? He could have said, I did, but…she was the one who’d said they were in the Stella thing together.
“I have a signature from Stella’s owner’s lawyer, who has the power of attorney to approve the study and procedures,” he said.
“Wonderful!” Gramma Finnie clapped her hands. “Then we have much to toast today. Garrett has an announcement he can barely keep secret. Baby Fiona slept through the night for the first time. Stella is going to be our miracle dog. And there’s another Irishman at the table.”
“And rumor has it Beck’s aunt has a friend coming to drop Ruff off…and be considered as an entrant for the Daniel Dating Competition,” Darcy added.
“They’re running late and will be here after dinner,” Gramma replied without so much as blinking an eye.
Darcy laughed and looked up at Josh. “Welcome to Sunday dinner at Waterford. Only slightly different from Buckingsham Palace.”
He let out a wistful sigh. “Slightly.”
* * *
“And that is how Waterford Farm came to be.” The sweet old lady leaned close to finish the saga. “Hashtag Kilcannon history.” Then Gramma Finnie stood and left the oversized farm table, where the two of them had been seated while all the others somehow disappeared into the kitchen, family room, and outside.
Just then, two delicate but surprisingly strong hands landed on Josh’s shoulders, and the familiar floral scent of a beautiful young woman replaced the powdery scent of a grandmother.
“Congratulations,” Darcy whispered in his ear. “You got the long version.”
He looked up at her, never tired of how pretty she was upside down. And right side up. And from behind, in profile, and in his imagination. “She likes me.”
“I believe we zoomed past ‘like’ when you dropped the ‘I’ve got Irish blood’ bomb.”