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“I know how to wash a dish in soap and water and set it to dry.”
She didn’t argue and escaped behind the screen to wash her face, brush her hair and teeth, and slip on her nightgown. She peeked out once or twice to see Callahan doing exactly as he’d said he would. He hummed to himself as he worked. He was slightly off-key, which she found oddly endearing.
Climbing into bed, she knew it would be another long night.
***
SHE WENT TO The Selkie with him in the morning. Entering it, the smells reminded her of her father, but once she got to work, she was able to put that unpleasantness behind her. Callahan offered her help in the kitchens, and while at first she felt woefully inadequate, when she realized the cook was preparing many of the dishes her own Irish grandmother had taught her to make, it took only a little prodding and she could remember the way of it.
Her childhood had not been particularly happy, but her grandmother had been a bright spot in it, and Bridget found she didn’t mind the kitchens or the work.
But once evening came, the door swung open and Callahan stood there with that charming smile on his face. “Darlin’, I miss you. Come out and work at the bar with me for a wee bit.”
She looked up and saw though he might be smiling, his eyes were serious. “Let me finish this crust, and I’ll be right out.”
“Don’t keep me waiting.” He winked.
Mrs. Gallagher, the cook, fanned herself with her large mixing spoon. “Oh, he’s a fine one, lass. If I were a few years younger—”
“Mrs. Gallagher!”
“I’m not too proud to tell you that Mr. Gallagher has been gone for several years, and my bed seems awfully cold these long winter nights. I wouldn’t mind a man like yours to warm me up in the wee hours.”
“I think I’ll let you finish the crust.” She wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen, followed by the cook’s laughter.
The woman wasn’t wrong about Callahan Kelly. She’d spent another restless night beside him, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he hadn’t slept all that well either. By the end of the week, they would either succumb to exhaustion or temptation. She wasn’t sure which she hoped for more.
Which was a lie because as soon as she saw him, leaning with one arm on the bar, smiling at the story an older gentleman regaled the other patrons with, she knew temptation would win. She couldn’t help but admire his lean legs, trim waist, and the careless fall of his hair. And when he turned to look at her, those oddly colored eyes drew her to him. Something in her face must have given him an indication of what she was feeling because his eyes turned a bit bluer before he looked away again.
“Gentlemen, me blushing bride, Mrs. Kelly!” He swept a hand at her, and she was so startled by the loud introduction and the clapping that followed that she froze. “Now don’t be shy, darlin’. You’re among friends.” He put a hand about her waist and drew her close. “Especially at yonder table.”
Her gaze flicked to the table he indicated. Several men and one woman sat there. They didn’t clap but looked at her with interest.
Innishfree. And she had best play her part.
She swept a bow and smiled. “Thank you for the warm welcome. It’s good to be home.”
“Don’t forget to thank the man who brought you,” said the gentleman who’d been speaking earlier.
She smiled at Callahan and gave him a shallow curtsy.
“Is that all?” someone called. “Give him a kiss!”
Her cheeks heated, but that seemed to encourage the patrons all the more. They hooted and clapped until Callahan took her in his arms and turning her away from them, bent her back. “I shouldn’t have called you out,” he murmured.
“I’m here now, and you’d better kiss me or everyone will wonder why.”
“You won’t slap me?” he asked.
“Not until we arrive home.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and she felt her breath catch with the anticipation of his mouth on hers. Their eyes locked, and she could feel the heat rising in her radiating off of him. He wanted her.
His mouth brushed hers, light and sweet, and she shivered. He’d only whetted her appetite, an appetite, she told herself, that could not be satisfied here—and shouldn’t be satisfied anywhere.
“You call that a kiss?” someone yelled. “Kiss her!
Their eyes met again, and he smiled, the look of a mischievous boy who knows he’s in trouble and can’t quite think of a way out of it. “Sorry,” he said.
