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“They’re alpacas,” his aunt corrected with a snort, “and you agreed Buttercup needed someone else to love after you married Becca.”
“Buttercup wanted to set up house with Trevor the moment they met.” Arthur laughed heartily. “You’ve never seen a grown man run so fast.”
“See, a laugh a minute,” Trevor responded with a grin that belied his tone. “You should come visit when things calm down. I think Buttercup might take a shine to Liam here.”
“I completely agree,” Clara said, giving him a wink, which he returned.
Taylor laughed. “It’s hard not to, with that sexy, soulful pirate look and all.”
“I love the earring, dear,” Clara added. “Very Tyrone Power of you.”
“Land sakes, Clara,” Arthur barked out, “he probably doesn’t even know who that is.”
“I do, actually, fromThe Black Swan,” Liam responded. “We Irish take Maureen O’Hara’s films pretty seriously—or my dad did. And that was one of her first. Speaking of other things Irish, come and see those sheep.”
Trevor groaned. “Becca has a whole troublesome herd for wool, and you should know she’s taken to letting our children spray-paint words on them like your Kindness Sheep. Although I’m mostly the artist since the kids are young.”
Liam thought that was a nice point of connection, and he found himself eager to visit their inn with Taylor when they had a break.
“How old are your kids now?” Taylor asked as they reached the windows in one of the painting studios.
“Roarke is three and Brenna is one, which is why I’m only allowed up here for the day,” he joked. “Seriously, though, they’re angels. Take after me, of course.”
“I doubt that,” Taylor responded, punching him in the arm.
Liam fought a smile. He could already see her punching Brady or Declan in the arm like that. He knew she was going to get along great with his friends once everything settled down and they all had time to hang out.
Arthur put his arm around his wife as they stood in front of the window. “Taylor, be warned. Trevor gets what he thinks is his cleverness from his aunt. This woman runs me ragged with all the trouble she gets into. Ah, here are the sheep now. A wonderful idea, I must say. The world could use more kindness.”
“But not more sheep, if you ask me,” Trevor grumbled. “Liam, you aren’t in sheep, are you?”
“My dad had them, which cured me young,” he responded as everyone turned their attention to Keegan O’Malley leading his herd up to the arts center, accompanied by Carrick, Jamie, and Kade and their sheep dogs.
“Smart decision, Liam,” Trevor said with a wry smile.
“Oh, aren’t they simply adorable?” Clara pressed her face to the glass like a little child. “Arthur, I might need a couple at home.”
“No way,” he answered gruffly. “Absolutely not. We have enough of a menagerie of babies and young children around to constitute a zoo. You can buy a T-shirt. Less mess and baaing that way. Right, Trev?”
“I’d agree but Aunt Clara might sock me, and she packs a good punch.”
She gave him a gentle sock anyway, making Liam laugh. She was a firecracker, much like his Taylor. “You’ll have to meet our oldest artist here at the center, Clara. Eoghan O’Dwyer is ninety-four.”
“I read about him when Arthur started his research about your arts center. He’s my new hero. I told Arthur I might take up painting nudes like your man Eoghan.”
The older man groaned while Trevor muttered and closed his eyes, “Nudes? Kill me now.”
“I live to terrify them,” Clara said with an adorable chortle. “You can bet I plan to do a little shopping here. I love art, and if possible, I’d like to make a donation to the center.”
Liam gestured for Taylor to reply to that one. “That would be very kind of you, Mrs. Hale—”
“Clara,” she corrected. “Wonderful. Oh, look! How clever. Those sheep make a sentence.”
Liam peered down, noting the string tied between the cluster of sheep to form a longer message.We. Stand. Against. Malcolm.“Not exactly under the formerly kind rubric.” His friends wouldn’t have gone for this. Keegan must have wanted to spit in Malcolm’s eye publicly.
“But a heartfelt one nonetheless.” Taylor pointed to the left. “I likeStop. Harassing. Our. Center.Brief and to the point.”
“Bullies don’t care to be called out,” Arthur mused, taking off his glasses and polishing them before repositioning them on his nose. “I imagine Mr. O’Malley knew that. Besides, that message will go viral, I imagine. Better than newspaper headlines, those sheep.”
