Page 3 of His Lucky Charm

Before I could formulate a suitable response, a crash from the bar drew his attention. “Mal! Don’t touch that without—” He sighed dramatically. “Excuse me, duty calls. Enjoy the whiskey.”

As he walked away, I couldn’t help but notice every eye in the pub following him—including mine. The man moved with a predatory grace that contradicted his apparent clumsiness. And those jeans should have been illegal in at least forty-seven states.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. I was here to debunk myths, not ogle the local publican, no matter how magnificently his ass filled out his denim.

Chapter 3

The next afternoon found me in the town archives, rifling through dusty records dating back to Cloverton’s founding in 1723. Nothing I found suggested anything more than the usual rural superstitions, embellished over centuries for tourism purposes.

“Finding everything alright, Dr. Byrne?”

I jumped, nearly knocking over my stack of carefully organized documents. Mrs. Hathaway, the elderly archivist, peered at me over cat-eye glasses attached to a beaded chain.

“Yes, thank you. Though I was hoping to find the original settler accounts of the ‘Guardian’ appearances.”

She pursed her lips. “Those wouldn’t be here. The O’Sullivan family keeps the oldest records.”

My heart stuttered. “O’Sullivan? As in Rafferty O’Sullivan?”

“The very same. His family was among the founders. The pub has been in their care for generations.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “They say the first O’Sullivan was saved by the alpha Guardian during the crossing from Ireland. Made a pact to always provide sanctuary to them in return.”

“Fascinating,” I murmured, already formulating my approach. If Rafferty had historical documents, I needed to see them—for purely academic reasons, of course. “Would Mr. O’Sullivan be amenable to sharing these records?”

Mrs. Hathaway’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I imagine he’d be very amenable to sharing anything with you, Dr. Byrne.”

I ignored the implication and the heat it sent coursing through me. “Excellent. I’ll ask him this evening.”

“He’s actually making a delivery here shortly. Old pub ledgers for our digitization project.” She checked her watch. “Should be here any minute.”

As if summoned by our conversation, the archive door swung open, and Rafferty ducked through, carrying a wooden crate that looked like it weighed nothing in his massive arms. Today he wore a black Henley that clung to every muscle, and jeans with a tear just below the right pocket that offered a tantalizing glimpse of tanned thigh.

“Mrs. H! Got those ledgers you’ve been hounding me for.” He set down the crate and turned, freezing when he spotted me. A slow, wolfish grin spread across his face. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite professor.”

“Mr. O’Sullivan.” I nodded, aiming for professional detachment despite the sudden dryness in my mouth.

“Rafferty,” he corrected automatically, approaching my table with that predatory grace. “Finding any Guardian secrets in those dusty old papers?”

“Not yet. Though I hear you might be holding the key evidence.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Do you now?”

“Mrs. Hathaway mentioned your family keeps the oldest records of Cloverton’s founding. Including the original Guardian accounts.”

“Did she?” He glanced at the archivist, who suddenly became very interested in her computer screen. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

I closed the folder I’d been examining. “Would you be willing to share them? For my research?”

Rafferty braced one hand on the table, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. I caught that scent again—hops, pine, and wild things.

“Those records are very precious to my family,” he said softly. “We don’t share them with just anyone.”

I swallowed hard. “I assure you, I’d treat them with the utmost care and—”

“Tell you what,” he interrupted, straightening to his full, impressive height. “Come by the pub after closing tonight. I keep some of the older stuff in my private office. We can discuss terms.”

“Terms?” I echoed.

His grin was pure wickedness. “Can’t just give away family secrets for nothing, Professor. That’s not how the world works.”