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I park the car and jump out, excited to show Lexi the inside of my home.
“I’ll come back for your things,” I say as she steps out of the vehicle. “Let’s go inside. I’ll give you a tour.”
“Thank you.”
The house isn’t enormous. At just over two thousand square feet, it’s modest but has plenty of space for me.
“The kitchen is brand new,” I inform her. “I love to cook, so I needed an updated space.”
“I like that it flows into the living space, and we can see the ocean from here.”
“It didn’t used to be this way,” I reply. “There used to be a wall here, but I tore it out. My room is over there, to the right. The guest rooms are upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you.”
She follows me up, and I can already see a difference in how she’s holding herself. She looks almost relaxed.
“Oh, this is lovely,” she says as she sits on the side of the queen bed in the guest room. “I love all of the colors. And this vase is divine.”
She points to a teal and yellow glass piece beside the bed.
“My brother made it.”
“He made it?”
“Yes. Kane O’Callaghan.”
She blinks at me and then looks at the vase. “Your brother is the famous glass sculptor?”
“One and the same. Your bathroom is through here. All of the linens are new and washed. No one’s used them yet.”
When I turn around, Lexi is standing at the big picture window, staring out at the ocean.
“This is a good place, Shawn.”
“It is, yes.”
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Thanks for coming along,” I reply. “Feel free to settle in. I’ll bring your bags up. And I’ll have dinner ready by six. Then, we’re going to the pub.”
“We’re going to a pub? Tonight?”
“That’s right. It’s Friday, and Keegan can probably use my help. If you’d rather not go, you’re welcome to stay here, but you’ll have much more fun at the pub.” I wink at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk you into it.”Chapter 3~Lexi~I’ve seen places like this in movies, but I always assumed they were just the product of a writer’s overactive imagination. Or they existed in Europe somewhere. Maybe a small village in Ireland or Scotland. It never occurred to me that loud, lively pubs like O’Callaghan’s Pub existed in real life.
But here I am, sitting on a barstool at the end of a long, mahogany bar, watching in fascination as a man who looks very much like Shawn pulls beers from the taps and laughs at something an older customer says.
I couldn’t tell you for sure what that might have been, given how thick the Irish accent is on the older man. But it seems it was quite funny.
“So, you’re the lass working on the movie with Shawn,” Keegan says. I was introduced to several of Shawn’s siblings as soon as we arrived. Keegan owns the bar and works it, as well. I see Maggie swinging through the crowd with a loaded tray of drinks and food, and Shawn is in the kitchen, helping to serve up dinner orders.
Which leaves me out here alone with Keegan.
“That’s right,” I reply. I have to speak loudly to be heard over the loud, live band playing on the tiny stage in the corner. They’re playing Celtic music, complete with a fiddle, piano, and what looks like an accordion.
Suddenly, Maggie jumps onto the stage and sings several verses of the lively song, laughing and dancing and giving the crowd a thrill.
Maggie is a beautiful woman. I’d say she’s in her mid-twenties, with gorgeous auburn hair and the same green eyes as Shawn. In fact, Keegan’s eyes are green, as well, but his dark hair matches his brothers’.
“How are you getting on then?” Keegan asks.
“With what?”
“The movie writing, of course.” He sees that my wine glass is almost empty and immediately reaches for the bottle, filling it up again.
“Oh, it’s going slowly, I’m afraid.”
“And why would that be?”
I could sit here for days on end and listen to Keegan O’Callaghan speak. His accent is the thickest of the siblings I’ve met, and just like when Shawn’s shines through, it makes my belly clench deliciously.
“It could be because your brother is a stubborn mule.”
“And just like that, I find you telling lies to my very own brother.”
I turn at the sound of Shawn’s voice, and find him smiling down at me. The lilt in his voice is heavier this evening, probably because we’re here among others who sound the same.
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?”
