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And Kellan was staring at me, probably hoping a Bluetooth headset would appear so he could feel more at ease that I had not been talking to the air.
“Squirrel,” I said as I made my way up the neatly shoveled walk. “I was talking to the squirrel.”
“Uh…”
“Never mind.”
We went inside and the kid stopped crying long enough to knuckle his big blue eyes and stare at me, much as his father had. Did I have a sign on my head or something?
Noticing Kellan was in his socks, I removed my boots. The kid watched me the whole time, whimpering softly.
“Why is he looking at me?”
“Maybe he doesn’t like Irishmen.”
“Is that so, Mr. McGuire?”
Kellan grinned. “He’s a baby. Didn’t say he made sense.”
“Uh-huh. How’s he doing today? Minus the sniffling.”
Kellan glanced down at his son. “He’s still feverish and he’s doing…that.” He sighed as the baby rubbed his ear against Kellan’s chest. “We think he might have an ear infection. If he’s not better this morning, Maggie will bundle him off to—”
“Where is my child?” A beautiful blue-eyed brunette woman wearing jeans and a thick pink sweater rushed into the foyer, stopping dead at the sight of me. “Oh, hello. You must be Rory. I’m sorry you got lost and weren’t able to make it last night.”
I slid a look at Kellan, who was fussing with his suddenly quiet child. “Yes, it was a shame. Maggie, is it? Pleasure to meet you.” I stepped forward and shook her hand. “You have a lovely home.” Not that I’d seen much of it yet, other than the quaint porch with its pair of snow-covered rockers and the small foyer that opened up into a recessed, rustic living room with log walls, exposed beam ceilings, and a large fireplace.
The fireplace made me think of Ivy. And hope she wasn’t dressed yet.
So much for a one-nighter, hmm?
“Thank you, but it’s Kellan’s place. Or it was. I just sort of stumbled upon it.” She smiled in a wide, affable way that made me wonder if she was also a Crescent Cove transplant. “We’ve added on, of course. And I’ve put in my own touches.”
“Like that thing.” Kellan nodded at a colorful quilt that took up much of one wall near the door.
Unrepentantly, Maggie flipped him the middle finger. I did a double take.
Well, then, this was the kind of marriage I could get behind.
“You bang on your little drum all day and I make quilts.” She tossed her hair and smiled at me again. “Can I get you anything before you get to work? Have you eaten?”
I hadn’t, but surprisingly, I was more interested in seeing this dynamic at play than I was at filling my belly. I was a student of human interaction. Being a voyeur was helpful in my business, since knowing how people ticked was a cornerstone of writing songs. Not to mention figuring out how to deal with thorny personalities was an asset in my line of work.
I’d also never seen a marriage work quite like this. In my own home, my parents had rarely argued. Or spoken, period. They didn’t have fire between them—at least not visibly, excepting the three children they’d made—and that was what I’d always sought. Or I had, until Darla.
I frowned. Since when had I sought anything? I was happily single. Unfettered. Unconcerned.
Horny as hell, even still.
Clearly, sex was dangerous to a man’s way of life. Good sex was like mental gasoline. Great sex could burn down a psyche and rebuild it from the ground up.
Hmm, I’d have to work that into a lyric.
I smiled at Maggie. “I haven’t, no, but could I trouble you for coffee? Black, please.”
She smiled back with a nod before deftly snagging her child from Kellan and toting him down the hall.
Kellan watched her go, shaking his head. “Is it any wonder I knocked her up the night we met? She’s hot as fuck.”
