AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She smiles from underneath her hair net, blue eyes twinkling in her lined face. “I’ll get to it,” she says gamely. She turns to a counter bearing four platters of lamb, and I watch her slice for a moment, marveling at how quickly she works. I hope I’m that dexterous when I’m ninety.
I walk back into the dining room, which is buzzing with activity. If one half of the village is escorting him here, the other half is waiting for him. Rachel, Maura, and Blair—all clad in Sunday best and lacy aprons—wave their arms, herding the stampede, while Holly stands behind the largest chair at an empty table, fussing with the ribbons tied to the end of her blonde braids. She’s wearing her favorite candy-apple-red dress and red lipstick, and I’d wager she’s got those inserts in her bra. Holly’s flat as a boy, but she’s got something that resembles cleavage peeking from behind her dress’s neckline. She gives me a panicked wave, and I laugh. Holly’s single, and she loves celebrities. At least she thinks she does. No one here would really know.
As I wave back, our friend Dot comes to stand beside her. She’s wearing a white dress that makes her lovely skin look deeper olive. Her dark hair is piled atop her head—perhaps a bit extravagant for the occasion, but she looks none the worse for it.
“Finley!” She gestures up and down her body as her eyes bulge, and I gather she’s not pleased with my wardrobe choice. I step closer to her. “I’m headed to the slopes right after this.” Which makes my blue jeans, boots, and flowing green blouse perfectly appropriate.
“Your hair!”
I run my hand over my ponytail as more familiar faces arrive, almost everyone dressed in Sox gear. Babies wear hand-painted onesies, kids homemade sport jerseys. Old Mr. Button has his face painted—God spare him.
I try to spy the guest of honor as more people cram inside, but it’s bedlam. Villagers crowd ’round the café’s eight tables and then line the walls, their bodies heating up the air and scenting it with ghastly quantities of perfume.
I spy Anna, my dearest friend, on the other side of the room. She’s wearing a navy dress with a pink hydrangea print, and wee Kayti is draped over her shoulder in a pale pink onesie. Anna slides into a spot behind the coat rack to the right of the door, and I start toward her, swimming through the sea of elbows and shoulders.
I smile in greeting as I squeeze past Mrs. Dillon, whom I’ll need to speak to after the gathering is over, to see if she’d like me to show Declan Carnegie to the house. I’m maneuvering through the crowd when Anna shifts Kayti in her arms, turning her around to face me. Kayti blinks her big, blue eyes, and I grin, pausing mid-step to make a silly face at my goddaughter.
I’m sticking my tongue out when it happens—something hard and warm bumps my shoulder. I turn and blink at one Declan Carnegie.
That first glance drives the breath out of my lungs. I know it’s him because his face is unfamiliar; there’s no such thing as a stranger on Tristan. At the same time, I feel as if it can’t be him. If he was quite so stunning, surely I’d have heard.
His hair is chestnut brown: rich and dark, with streaks of burnished gold. Stubble lines his hard jaw, drawing my gaze to his thick lips, then to his nose—strong and straight—and at last to his eyes. It takes me a moment to note their color—sea blue—because the set of them, above those high cheekbones and under strong, thick brows, is so disarming.
He looks like a warrior. Like a king. He’s tall and large, with hulking shoulders, smooth, tanned skin, an air of confidence and ease.
Privilege, I almost murmur.
Then I feel his hand on my shoulder. “Sorry.” He smiles, revealing dimples and a set of sparkling white teeth.
My breath is hung up in my throat. I swallow and croak, “Quite all right.”
It’s work to tear my eyes from his, but somehow I manage. Time trips back to normal speed as I near Anna and wee Kayti. Anna’s arm wraps around my back. Her pink lips smirk. I laugh, too, only half aware of how the volume in the café has grown louder. By the time I have the wherewithal to turn around, facing the table Dot and Holly claimed for Declan, he’s standing beside it with his arm around Sara Hollis. She looks bewitched as she stares up at his statuesque face.
“Shockingly gorgeous,” Anna murmurs.
Her husband, Freddy, nuzzles her hair and pulls a mock frown. “Is that right?”
We all laugh, and I’m supposed to help serve lamb, so I stroke Kayti’s pudgy cheek, smooth her silky black hair, and blow Anna a kiss before turning toward the kitchen.
“Watch your step,” she calls, and I shoot her a wicked look.
The kitchen is hot enough to make me sweat in my jeans and boots. As soon as I step in, Miss Alice smiles at me and holds a plate out.
“Take this to him, Finley. I think you should be the one. His dear father cared so for your mum, you know.”
Hank Smith is standing at my elbow. I look up at him, and he winks.
“Rawr.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not the one, you are.”
“Go on, dear. Before it cools.” Miss Alice waves toward the door.
I take the plate, but as I walk through the doorway, Dot appears.
I thrust the plate toward her. “Take his food, Dot.”
Her hazel eyes widen. “Oooh, is this for him?”
