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“First off, I can’t tell you the secret.” Automatically she began to tip down chairs herself. “I have to ask you to do the favor blind.”
He got a good look at her then—the flushed face, the wildly glowing eyes, the foolish smile. He recalled a very similar look on his wife’s face at a certain moment. “Oh, Lord, Brenna, never say you’re breeding.”
“Breeding?” The chair nearly slipped out of her hands. “No, no!” And though she laughed it off, she found it interesting to discover she wouldn’t have minded it. “It’s nothing like that. Aidan, is there any way you could arrange for Shawn to have the evening off?”
“The whole of it?”
She heard the pain in his tone, sympathized. “I know it’s a lot to be asking, and at the last instant as well. But it’s important. I’ll work this weekend for no pay to make up for it. I’ll go down and talk to Mrs. Duffy myself to see that she’ll fill in.”
“Why the devil doesn’t Shawn ask for time himself instead of sending you in to look at me with those big eyes?”
“He doesn’t know.” She moved closer, running a hand down his arm. “Another part of the favor is that you don’t tell him I asked. Could you just send him home somehow at the beginning of shift?”
“He’ll certainly wonder why, won’t he?”
“I haven’t had time to think it all out.” She whirled away, paced, but couldn’t clear her head. “Oh, you’ll think of something, Aidan. Please.”
“It’s a matter of the heart, I suppose. And you’re using mine against my good business sense.” He let out a windy sigh. “I’ll work it out for you.”
“Oh, you’re the best and the finest.” She leaped into his arms to plant a hard, noisy kiss on his mouth.
“Look at this, will you? If she’s not after one brother she’s after another.” With a lazy yawn, Darcy sauntered in. “That’s a married man, I’ll have you know, you sneaky slut.”
“I’ve got one for you as well.” Before Darcy could evade, Brenna rushed over and gave her the same treatment.
“Sweet Mary, now she’s after the girls, too.” But Darcy’s sleepy chuckle faded away. She gripped Brenna’s arms. “Brenna, are you pregnant?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. No. Can’t a body be happy without a baby in the belly? I’ve got to go, he’ll be coming in. You don’t tell him I was here. Please. I’m grabbing a bottle of the French bubbly you keep in the back. Put it on my account, would you?”
She dashed out the way she’d dashed in and left Darcy rubbing her mouth. “And what was all that about?”
“I haven’t a clue. But she’s something up her sleeve, and Shawn’s not to know.”
“Secrets. I could get it out of her in five minutes.”
“No doubt you could,” Aidan agreed. “But let’s let her have her surprise.”
“I’ve already had mine.” Darcy went behind the bar for her change apron. “She’s in love with him.”
“Does that trouble you?”
“No, but for the fact that the Gallaghers are tumbling like ripe fruit from a tree.”
Aidan moved behind the bar with her to check the till. “Afraid it’s catching, darling?”
“I would be, was I not immune to such weaknesses.” She heard the back door open again. “And speaking of clueless, there’s himself now.” Filled with affection and sentiment, Darcy headed for the kitchen to torment her brother.
“What do you mean I can go?” Up to his elbows in potatoes, Shawn turned his head to stare at Aidan. “Go where?” “On your way. Kathy Duffy’ll be right along.”
“Well . . . why?”
“To cover for you.” Aidan had thought of a way, and saw no reason not to have a little fun at his brother’s expense while he was about it. “You have the evening off as you asked. Though it’s damned inconvenient.”
Shawn shoved peelings into the garbage. “I never asked for the evening off.”
“Well, it must’ve been your evil twin, then, or I’ve just had a brainstorm.” Fixing a scowl on his face, Aidan pulled open the refrigerator and plucked out a bottle of water. “I told you two days past when you asked that I’d work it out.”
“But I . . . you’ve been dreaming. I’ve ten pounds of potatoes here to deal with. Why would I be making stovies if I was planning on having the evening free?”
“That’s a question I can’t answer, but I’ve Kathy Duffy coming in, and there’s no need for both of you tonight.”
“I’ve no plans but to do my job here. You’ve mixed something up.”
Enjoying the timing, Aidan turned to Darcy as she came in. “Darcy, did Shawn ask for this evening free or did he not?”
“He did, a couple of days back. Selfish bastard.” Not one to let an opportunity pass, she flashed a challenging look at Aidan. “And since you’re so bloody accommodating with our brother, I’m wanting Saturday afternoon off for myself.”
“Saturday afternoon.” Aidan nearly choked on his water. “You can’t have a weekend day off as we’re heading into spring.”
“Oh, so it’s all right for him.” She pointed a finger toward a baffled Shawn. “But it’s a different matter entirely for me.”
“I don’t need the evening off.”
“You’ve got it,” Aidan snapped, and ground his teeth as Darcy folded her arms. “A weekday evening’s a different matter from a weekend afternoon.”
“All right, fine, then. I’ll take the evening off Monday next. Unless me being female means I don’t get the same considerations as this one.” Satisfied that she’d boxed Aidan in, she flounced out.
“I don’t remember asking for tonight off,” Shawn said vaguely.
“Aye, and you don’t remember to tie your bootlaces half the time.” Seriously annoyed, Aidan jerked a thumb at the door. “Out with you, you troublemaker.”
Shoving up his sleeves and squaring his shoulders, Aidan went out to deal with his treacherous sister.
She had everything under control, and quite the job of work it had been. It had to be special, and as close to perfect as she could manage. Shawn Gallagher would see he wasn’t the only one who could fuss and fiddle and set a nice scene. She’d been to the market and got all the makings. While Shawn had been busy cooking at the pub, she’d been doing the same at the cottage. Maybe she didn’t have his flair with such things, but she wasn’t altogether helpless.
She’d chilled the wine and had even ferreted out a tin pail she’d scrubbed to use as an ice bucket. The champagne glasses she’d borrowed from Jude. Flutes, she’d called them, Brenna thought. And elegant they were.
She’d set a nice table, if she said so herself. A pair of pretty plates and cloth napkins, the flowers she scavenged from her mother’s garden and the one at the cottage.
Candles, she thought as she lighted them. Surely everything was in place for an atmosphere of romance and celebration.
Oh, she couldn’t wait to see his face when she told him about his music. It had been a test of will and restraint not to shout out the news to everyone she’d passed that day. But it was for Shawn first.
After they’d celebrated the thrill of it, and his future, lifted a glass or two, she’d tell him the rest. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—fumble with the words. Hadn’t she practiced them in her head all of the day?
“I love you,” she said now, out loud to the empty room. “I think I always have, I know now I always will. Will you marry me?”
There. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her heart, as it was galloping like a wild horse. It wasn’t so hard, really. Maybe her tongue felt a little thick and clumsy, but she’d said it straight out without stuttering.
And if he balked or refused, she’d just have to kill him.
As her ears were pricked for it, she heard the sound of his car as he turned into the street. All right, Brenna. She closed her eyes, steadied herself. Here we go.
Damned if he’d asked for an evening off. Still stewing about it, Shawn shoved open his garden gate. He should know
, shouldn’t he? And if he had, wouldn’t he have made plans for it? He knew what was going on in his own life, for Christ’s sake.
Not that he couldn’t adjust. He’d ring Brenna and see if she was agreeable to having an evening together. He’d throw a meal together, or it was early enough that they could go out to the hotel restaurant.
Aidan and Darcy had to be having him on, though for the life of him he couldn’t think of the purpose.
The minute he stepped into the house he caught the scent of cooking, then the flicker of light back in the kitchen. What now, was all he could think. Had Lady Gwen taken to making meals while he was away from home?
When he walked in, he was as surprised to see Brenna as he would have been to see the ghost.
She was wearing a dress, which was odd enough. But she was standing, smiling, with candlelight all around her, the good, rich scent of stew simmering, and a bottle of champagne in a rain bucket standing on the counter behind her.
“What’s all this?”
“It’s dinner. Beef and Guinness stew. The one thing I can make that no one has trouble choking down.”
“You cooked?” He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache brewing.
“I’ve been known to on the rare occasion.”
“Yes, but, did we . . . Well, we must’ve,” he decided, scanning all the pretty preparations. “This is beyond a bit of absentmindedness. I think something must be wrong with me.”
“You look fine to me.” Since he wasn’t going to make a move, she did, walking to him to kiss him. “More than fine.” This time her hands slid over his face, and the kiss went dreamy. “It’s glad I am to see you, Shawn.”
He started to question it all again, then as Brenna’s mouth moved warm over his, thought it was foolish to bother. “It’s a pleasure coming home to you.”
Get used to it, she thought and smiled as she stepped back. “I’ve been waiting. All but jumping out of my skin,” she admitted. “I’ve things to tell you.”
