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“I should probably just wait in the car,” I mumbled, hardly able to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to be intruding—unlike my idiot brother who apparently has no qualms about walking into strangers’ houses and eating their food.”
“Firstly, I’m not a stranger to you, and you’re not intruding on me,” Johnny corrected gruffly as rain pelted down on us both. “Secondly, I’m inviting you into my house,” he added, running a hand through his now-soaked hair. “You’re getting soaked.” His gaze traveled over me once more before he inclined his head toward the house. “I want you to come inside.”
“Are you sure?” I croaked out.
He nodded slowly. “Absolutely.”
“Um, okay,” I whispered uncertainly. “If you’re sure that you’re sure?”
“I’m sure that I’m sure,” Johnny quipped. “Come on.”
Johnny spun around and hurried over to the front door, only to turn around and jog back to where I was rooted to the ground.
He placed his hands on my shoulders and walked me into the house.
“See?” he coaxed when we were both inside with the huge door closed behind us. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I shook my head.
Johnny shook himself down like a dog would, causing raindrops to splatter everywhere.
“You laughing at me, Shannon like the river?” he teased, noticing my smile.
I shook my head again.
He smiled one of the big double-dimpled smiles that caused my heart to stutter before gesturing for me to follow him down the long entrance hall and into a spacious foyer with a huge archway on either side of the room, leading god knows where.
Careful to keep my lips mashed together—and not let my mouth fall open like I wanted to—I took in the enormous staircase that took center stage, with its intricate wooden balusters with little lion heads carved on top.
My gaze trailed upward to the top of the staircase where both sides of the landing were clearly visible through the wooden banister rails that eventually joined the wall on either side.
“It’s an old house,” Johnny said by way of explanation. “Like a hundred and fifty years or something.” He looked uncomfortable as he spoke. “My mother didn’t want to change the original design too much when we bought it. We renovated most of the rooms and put in a new kitchen, but Mam wanted to keep some of the original parts.” Shrugging, he added, “She says the place has character or some shite like that.”
“She’s right,” I breathed, doing a full 360 turn so I could take in the ridiculously tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers. “I think you could fit my entire house in this hall.”
“Johnny!” Gibsie’s voice thundered from the archway on the left. “Grub’s up.”
“Are you hungry?” Johnny asked as he led me down the long hallway to the door at the end. “Knowing Gibsie, he’s after frying the contents of the fridge.”
I shook my head, my arms moving to wrap around my body almost protectively as I trailed after him. “I’m okay.”
The moment Johnny pushed the door of the kitchen open, we were bathed in sunlight and the delicious aroma of rashers cooking.
“Hey, it’s little Shannon,” Gibsie chirped, turning from his position at an impressive-looking stove range to smile and wave a spatula at me. “Did Johnny manage to coax you inside, or was it the smell of my fucking amazing cooking that drew you in?”
“It’s raining,” I mumbled, biting back a shiver as the dampness from my clothes began to seep into my skin.
“You cooked one egg, Gibs, under my supervision,” Joey, who was sitting on a stool at the center island, piped up. “You’re no Darina Allen.”
“Thank fuck for that, Lynchy.” With the frying pan in his hand, Gibsie walked over to where my brother was sitting and slapped an egg onto his plate. “I like my man parts.”
Reaching across the counter, Joey retrieved the tea-cozy-covered teapot and poured two cups of tea before swinging the pot in our direction. “Shan, Kavs, tea?”
Gibs?
Lynchy?
Kavs?
