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“Um, I guess,” she says, but the way her teeth sink into her lower lip tells me she’s not totally opposed to the idea of being caught.
I chuckle and try to fix the green ribbon in her hair. “Go clean up. I’ll meet you outside. And make sure you re-apply that sunscreen.”
I wait until I’m sure Caitlin has left the church before I step out from the corner. The moments alone have done nothing to lessen the beast in my jeans. I grin and adjust myself – I’m sure the bulge will be the talk of the fundraiser.
A chill creeps down my neck.
I turn and my gaze fall on a silver crucifix. The man hanging on it, has his head tilted down in disgust.
“Get a grip, Aidan,” I mumble and try to shake off the chill.
My step falters. There’s a movement below the silver crucifix, in the shadows.
An old woman.
Her yellow cardigan over a cream blouse seems too cheerful against the scowl and beady eyes. Another shiver finds its way down my spine and I hurry out of the cold stone building.
I shake off the image of the old woman and notice with amusement that the ghostly creature has scared off my erection.
Mingling was never my forte. Finbar is the one with the gift of the gab whilst I have the artistic talent. Still, I walk around for a bit, exchanging pleasantries, sample the ample spread, buy a few raffle tickets and neck a couple of glasses of cava – all the while keeping track on Caitlin. She’s once again dutifully flanking her parents, but now her back is straight and her chin held high. There’s more than one man discretely glancing her way, checking her out. Yes, my little Caitlin is starting to turn heads. If she wore something more age appropriate instead of that dress fit for a twelve-year-old, there would be a fight for her attention.
But I saw her first.
Shit! A man chatting to Finbar is taking her hand, shaking it, not letting it go. He’s old. Probably thirty, the pervert. His shady eyes and slimy grin are zooming in on her.
Before I know what’s happening, I’ve crossed the courtyard. Overpowering cologne hits my nostrils as I squeeze my body in between the blood sucking shit and my ginger fairy, forcing him to take two steps back. I know my teeth are flashing as I smile at Irene and say, “Irene, the food is simply five-star. I’ve eaten so much, I’ll not need another meal for a couple ofdays.” I run my hand over my stomach for effect, highlighting my toned torso. I turn to the dick with the sleazy eyes. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Oh, this is Declan Furlong, a good friend of Fin’s from school.”
That makes him younger than I thought, early twenties. Still too old for an eighteen-year-old innocent and naïve girl. I grab his hand, squeeze it, and laugh under my breath when he winces.
“Aidan works with me in Keenan’s Jewellers,” Finbar adds, leaving out that I’m an owner of the company.
Declan the dick’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, you’rethatAidan! I’ve heard so much about you from Fin.”
“I trust Fin has only said nice things.” Upon seeing the nervous smile on the guy’s face, I grin and address Finbar. “Speaking of Fin, I was thinking, for the jewellery fair in RDS, maybe we should invite Tom Stirling to show him how well his apprentice is doing?”
I watch, in amusement, as colour rises up Finbar’s face, while a barely audible gasp sounds from Caitlin next to me. The quacky sound from Declan-the-duck tells me he knows about Fin’s disaster in London. Only Irene can keep a straight face. Quite admirable.
“That… that’s a good idea,” Finbar stammers. “Stirling is probably too busy, though. Um.”
“Where is Fin?” I look around the crowd. “I should go and suggest it to him.”
“No!” Finbar barks. “That’s okay, I’ll go find him. Declan, why don’t you join me.”
And off they go. I want to laugh. Caitlin’s eyes are dancing as she bites down onher lip.
Irene clears her throat. “So, you enjoyed the food?”
It’s impressive how this woman has kept her cool while her husband flapped.
“Loved it.” I grin.
“Oh, Tara!” Irene calls, waving over a tall brunette.
“Tara, this is Aidan Byrne, Finbar’s business partner. Aidan, this is Tara McClelland, a good friend of mine – her whole family is active and respected in the church. Tara’s been heavily involved in the catering for today. Aidan has just told me how much he loves the food.”
I grab Tara’s outstretched hand while having the distinct feeling of being set up. She must be in her late twenties or thereabouts. She’s a beauty, a beauty who spends a lot of time in the gym, if her perfectly toned arms and legs are anything to go by. Her make-up is flawless and her hair is styled in thick waves that would be perfect wrapped around my fist. There’s something about her that reminds me of Irene. Maybe the way her chin is lifted, or how straight her back is. She takes no nonsense this woman. Maybe a young blueprint of Irene is what I need in my life – for sure, the fiery ones didn’t work for me.
