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I slide across the back seat and step out onto the pavement beside him and Ford.
“I think it’s a great idea. Ford, I’ll contact you when I need to go home.”
My stoic protector nods once, tipping his hat. “I’ll check in on Alex. I won’t be far.”
I nod as he gets back into the town car before slipping out into the busy evening traffic.
Then Bailey gently steers me toward the pub.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to see your mother in recent weeks. She’s a really wonderful woman, and I’ve been meaning to visit, but life…it’s just been…”
“Full on?”
I nod at his suggestion as we enter the large wooden doors of the homely Irish bar, finding it half-filled with a handful of servers milling about like worker bees. “That’s accurate.”
“I’m sorry you had to cut your trip short.”
“It was wonderful, regardless of how long we had.”
As I smile at the memories we created, and in particular the intimacy we shared, Darcy spots us from her place behind the long bar, where she’s unloading a dishwasher of glasses.
“Youcantake instruction when the mood strikes! There’s hope for you yet, Bailey Malone.” She shifts her gaze to me, her eyes lighting up. “Well, well, well. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
With a speed I’d not have expected, she rounds the bar to pull me into her arms. “I heard the news from Bailey, lovely. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I cling more tightly to her frame, choking on a newly formed lump in my throat.
“You know you always have a place here, Reyna.”
She pulls back, leveling me with a look that surely means business. “I mean it now. If you ever need us, we’re here.”
She glances at her watch before rolling her eyes. “Leonard is late, but we’ll start without him.”
Bailey grins as he leads the way beyond the bar, into the staff quarters beyond, and takes the stairs on our right.
“Start what without him?”
Darcy shoos me on with the gusto of a mother hen. “Dinner, of course. You look like you need some good old-fashioned home cooking.”
I follow Bailey with a smile. “I’d go for more of that stew. It wassogood.”
When I reach the top of the stairs, he ushers me inside a pristine white kitchen, and my nose is instantly hit with the smell of what promises to be a delicious dinner.
Darcy bustles in past me, bee-lining for the stovetop as I take a seat at the large dining table that dominates the space.
“When I told Bailey to bring you, I knew forsureyou liked stew. So, of course, I’ve made it again.”
She grabs a ladle from the pot and a dish from the counter before filling it. Then she passes the steaming bowl to her son, who sets it before me at the table.
I look into it, spotting cubed potatoes and carrots in a thick gravy-like sauce alongside large chunks of beef, and the smell is altogether mouth-watering.
I notice that this time, it’s served over a dollop of creamy mash, and my stomach suddenly riots with a sharp pang of hunger, having not stopped to eat since leaving home this morning.
Darcy sets a round wooden plate with a round loaf of bread on it in the center of the table before sitting beside me with her own bowl.
She nods at the plate. “Use the soda bread there for mopping up the sauce.”
“Thank you. This is so—”
