“Fine,” said Rory, glaring at Burr for a moment, before nodding once at his sister and muttering, “Go dtachta an diabhal tu.” The devil take you then.

  As Rory walked away, toward the woods behind Tierney’s cottage, she threw the spatula on the ground and stalked into the house, her eyes burning with tears. How dare her brother act that way? How dare he embarrass her like that?

  Resting her hands on the sink, she took several deep breaths, then splashed her face with cool water and dried it with a paper towel.

  “You like him.”

  Tierney turned to find Brittany standing behind her.

  “What? Who?”

  “Brian. Your…houseguest.”

  “I like him. Yeah,” said Tierney, sniffling softly. “What’s not to like?”

  “He’s good looking,” said Brittany, “and nice.”

  Tierney scoffed. “I’m not stupid enough to fall for him. Why would I break my own heart?”

  Brittany took the paper towel from Tierney’s hands and gently dried her face. “Break your heart? Nah. He likes you too.”

  “Unlikely.”

  Girls like Brittany, who were wanted by every man who ever set eyes on them, didn’t understand what it was like to be Tierney, the girl most likely to be cast as the best friend.

  Brittany grinned. “The only thing standing between Rory’s face and Brian’s fist was you.”

  Tierney gulped, still furious with her brother. “Rory had no right to act like that. I’ve always been the good one, the quiet one, the responsible one. He has no right to treat me like a child!”

  “He loves you,” said Brittany gently. “And you’re right. You’ve always been good and quiet, strong and sweet, shy and solitary Tierney. Having some guy here? Staying here? This is new for Rory and Ian. You don’t generally have men coming and going. And now…well, now you do. Coming, I mean, not going. Oh! Not…not coming. I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant…Oh, Lord.”

  Every so often, society-girl Brittany shocked the hell out of the Havens, blurting out some unexpected, and generally inappropriate, word or phrase.

  Tierney giggled softly, grateful that Brittany’s blunder had eased some of the tension in the room. “I—I know what you meant.”

  Brittany’s cheeks were pink, but she grinned at Tierney. “Either way…good for you.”

  Now Tierney’s cheeks heated up as she thought about Burr and coming in the same breath. Think of something else. Think of something else. Like…Rory.

  “I whacked him hard on t’arse. Is he okay?”

  “Who? Rory?” Brittany walked over to the window. “Well, Brian’s flipping burgers at the grill with Ian…and Rory’s…hmm, where is he? Ah! There he is. Rory’s coming back now. Reaching down to the cooler. Grabbing a beer. Ian’s getting the top off for him. Hmm. He’s saying something that looks vaguely like, ‘If you hurt my sister, bloodhounds won’t find your body…’ and…ah-ha! Sláinte!”

  Crossing the kitchen, Tierney stood next to Brittany, watching her brothers and Burr clink their bottles together and sighing softly with relief as they drank.

  “You know…Rory’s got a mean grease stain on the back of those khakis,” observed Brittany.

  “He deserved it,” said Tierney, but her lips twitched with more laughter.

  “Yes, he did,” said Brittany, putting an arm around Tierney and hugging her as they watched the boys from the kitchen window. “Indeed he did.”

  ***

  The Havens were pure Irish. Clannish to the core.

  After dinner, they lingered, helping Tierney clean up until she announced that she still needed to lock up the great house and outbuildings at the top of the hill. Rory and Ian jumped at the chance to drive her up the road, but Burr stepped in, telling them that he would accompany her. With a look caught somewhere between annoyance and acceptance, Rory shrugged, grunting at Ian and Brittany that it was time to go.

  “Well…that was interesting,” said Tierney, sighing deeply as she stood next to Burr on the driveway, watching the gates close behind her family.

  Burr put his hands on his hips. “You want to hear something surprising?”

  “Sure.”

  “I liked your brothers.”

  She turned to look at him, her green eyes wide beneath her glasses. “You did?”

  “Yeah,” he said, glancing at her and nodding. “I mean, I almost took a swing at Rory when he was grilling you like a drill sergeant, but I understand where he was coming from. Some guy they’ve never heard of shows up at their sister’s place, staying indefinitely. My sister’s husband, Connor? Man, I gave him a tough time before they were married.”

  “I’ve got my keys,” she said. “Go get your shoes on and then tell me about Connor while we walk up to the great house.”

  He ran into the house and returned a moment later. They turned from the gate to walk up the long driveway, the twilight soft and magical as crickets chirped and cicadas sang their timeless songs. It had been a long time since Burr had spent any time in a place that smelled as clean as Moonstone Manor. He soaked up the evening sounds, letting gratitude fall over him, despite how shitty his life might look to an outside observer.

  “So…” said Tierney, falling into step beside him, “why didn’t you like him?”

  “Connor? Nah! I loved him. He’s a great guy. Redheaded and freckled. Built as strong as a Mack truck—like yer man, Ian. He’s a lieutenant in the Dorchester Fire Department. Known Suzy since they were kids. He’s good for her.”

  “Then why’d you give him a hard time?” she asked.

  “Well,” said Burr, chuckling softly at his memories. “I liked him fine before he was—well, for lack of a better word—boinking my sister. Once I found out they were getting it on? Yeah, I gave him hell. I didn’t want her mistreated, you know? Or taken for granted.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Tierney nodded. “You’re all Neanderthals.”

  “A little,” he agreed. “We’re possessive, the Irish. We look out for what’s ours.”

  “When did you let up on Connor?”

  “When he put a ring on my sister’s finger. Then I couldn’t care less if they screwed all over Boston. They were legit. He’d taken responsibility. He’d done what was right.”

  Tierney stopped walking beside him, and when he realized it, he turned around to look at her. She stood in the dying light, her hands on her hips, a pissed expression on her pretty face. “What?”

  “Do you have any idea how reactionary that sounds?” she asked him.

  “Wha—”

  “He took responsibility,” she barked, adding a sour laugh. “Done what was right. Are you kidding me with that stuff?”

  He shrugged. “Not really.”

  “You and my brothers are straight out of Victorian times. It’s ludicrous.”

  “Because we want to keep the women in our lives safe? Happy? Free from harm? That makes us…reactionary Victorian Neanderthals?”

  “You can’t smother us in Bubble Wrap, Burr. Believe it or not, we can think for ourselves, speak for ourselves, and take care of ourselves. We don’t need you idiots—”

  “Hey, now,” said Burr, placing his hands on his own hips in a mirror image of her. “I didn’t say you couldn’t take care of yourself. Hell, woman! I’ve seen you with a spatula, and that shit was terrifying.” He sighed, taking a step toward her, wanting her to understand that he was talking about old-fashioned values in a modern world, and frankly, he hoped there was room for both. “I’m saying…when we care for someone—for a woman, be she a mother, a sister, a girlfriend, a lover, a wife, a daughter—we can’t bear to see her heart get broken. We’d rather have both our arms and legs snapped in half than see her cry. Or better yet, we’d like to beat the stuff out of the guy who hurt her.”

  Her expression softened just a touch, but she cocked her head to the side. “I think it’s less about loving someone and more about posturing…and ownership.”

  “Then you’re crazy,” he answered, thinking about his mother as he turned and started walking again. “When I was young, my mam would shake her finger at me as I left the house in the evenings. She’d say, ‘One, use your head. Two, use your head. Three, picture my face.’ Let me tell you…picturing my mother’s face kept me from doing a lot of stupid or dangerous things. Couldn’t stand to upset or disappoint her.”

  “Mmm,” hummed Tierney beside him, not convinced.

  “Or take the time Father Jim called my mam because I wouldn’t stop crying at school.”

  “Why?”

  “Why was I crying?” He chuckled. “Okay, here’s the story. So the father calls her in and there I am, weeping all over my pressed Catholic school shirt in his office w’ Sister Mary Grace wringing her hands in the chair next to me. My mam comes in and Father Jim says, ‘Well, Mrs. O’Leary, young Burr has been emotional all morning, and we can’t get to the bottom of why. Felt we needed to call you in and apprise you of the situation.’ My mother rounds the desk to stand next to Father Jim, her face thunderous, and Sister Mary Grace takes my hand in hers as though to protect me. ‘Well, son?’ asks my mother, no-nonsense, arms crossed over her chest. And there I am, crying even harder now that she’s there. ‘Have you been hurt, my child?’ asks Sister Mary Grace, all concerned about my well-being. My mother scoffs, rolling her eyes. ‘Burr Brian O’Leary, you tell the sister and Father Jim why you’re crying. I have groceries waiting in the car. Quick, now.’ And I look up through tears—mind you, I’ve been crying for over an hour, so my eyes are so swollen, I can barely see—and I wail, ‘I s-smoked one of my d-dad’s cigarettes l-last night b-behind the h-house…’ I pause there to catch a breath. ‘Yes, son?’ says Father Jim, frozen with anticipation, ready to hear I’d endured the beating of the century, with strips of my flesh still lying all over our backyard, right? And I finish off by adding, ‘…and now mam’s d-d-deeply d-d-d-disap-p-pointed w-with me!’” Burr looked askance at Tierney, watching as a dimple dented her cheek, and feeling victorious. “No one had laid a bloody hand on me. I’d stolen a cigarette, smoked it, and gotten caught. And I’d been crying all morning because my mother was deeply disappointed in me.”

  “Guilt and shame,” said Tierney. “Every Irish mother’s favorite weapons.”

  “I’ve heard the spatula’s making a comeback,” said Burr, purposely knocking into her gently with his elbow.

  “All right. All right. So you love your mother and your sister.”

  “And your brother loves you,” said Burr. “No mistake, I would’ve popped him if he’d kept going, because I didn’t like what he was insinuating about you. But I still respect him.”

  Tierney shook her head. “You’re all impossible.”

  “Will you come on Saturday? To see me skate?”

  The question surprised him because he hadn’t thought it over before asking, and frankly, it was a blessed relief, because it had been years since he’d felt comfortable enough and safe enough to speak before thinking.

  “Probably,” she said. “Though I could be out late on Friday night and exhausted come Saturday.”

  “Oh, yeah? Why?”

  “Have you forgotten? I have a hot date.”

  Hot date? Burr scrunched up his face. What am I missing?

  “With John,” she added.

  Oh, shit. That’s right. She has to go out on a date with Dr. Weasel on Friday night.

  “Aw, forget him. I’ll take you out instead,” he offered, keeping his voice level, though the thought of Tierney going out with the fucking vet made bile rise to the back of his throat.

  “A deal’s a deal,” she said, reaching in her pocket for the keys as they approached the visitor’s center.

  “Says who?”

  “The stitches on your back and front.”

  “I’ll pay him.”

  “With the Shanahan’s dirty money? I don’t think so.”

  Burr reached out, placing his hand on her arm, just over her wrist. “Don’t go, aisling.”

  She pulled her arm away gently. “I have to. You know I do. It’s what’s right.”

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re stubborn, Tierney Haven?”

  “About a million times.” She checked the door of the visitor’s center, then continued around the building with Burr traipsing, annoyed, behind her.

  The door to the great house was unlocked, but she locked it quickly before turning down another path that led to the barn and watchtower.

  “Want to see the inside?” she asked over her shoulder, and unless he was mistaken, there was a thread of hope in her voice, like maybe she’d like to show it to him.

  Yes, he did. He was dying to see the view from the watchtower. And no doubt the sunset over the lake would be spectacular, but the problem was that if he stood up there, on top of the world, he’d want to kiss her again. And kissing Tierney wasn’t a good idea.

  Burr meant it when he said that he liked her brothers and understood their misgivings where he was concerned. He wasn’t interested in disrespecting their sister by making cheap moves on her when his reason for staying a Moonstone Manor was solely for her protection. No matter how appealing she was—and she beat out any other woman on his radar—she needed to be off-limits. At least for now.

  “Not tonight.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, two patches of pink appearing in her cheeks. “Okay.”

  “Another time,” he said, trying to soften the blow. He leaned against the side of the barn as she closed the double doors and locked them. “I have work to do…studying, the, uh, the property maps. I’ll walk you home and check on the gate before bed.”

  A heavy silence descended between them at the mention of bed, the click of the lock behind her key somehow punctuating the word. This cottage is not under your purview, Rory Kavanagh Haven, and for that matter…nor is his bed, nor is mine.

  Her bed.

  Damn, but he’d sure like to see it again someday…with her in it.

  His cock twitched and he shoved himself away from the barn, into a shadow cast by the high red walls.

  You’re here to protect her, not romance her, he reminded himself again, though the heat in his groin increased with every beat of his heart, sending blood to his dick, which hardened behind the zipper of his jeans. He wanted her. Christ, this was a mess. Falling for Tierney Haven was the sort of thing that could get him distracted and get them both killed.

  You need to stay away from her, boyo. As far as you can in that tiny cottage.

  “Well, then I guess we’re done here,” she said softly, turning away from the barn and heading back up another path toward the visitor’s center.

  And Burr, who was ever more drawn to her by the moment, stayed a respectful distance behind her until he’d gotten himself under control. But their easy camaraderie was done and gone, and they walked the rest of the way back to her house in silence.

  CHAPTER 8

  Whether it was her imagination or just the adjustment of living with a man under the same roof, Tierney felt like Burr was avoiding her.

  When she woke up at seven thirty to shower, dress, and walk up to the great house for work, he was already gone, a rinsed mug on the drying rack and a note on the kitchen table informing her that he was on patrol.

  When she returned at one for lunch, there was evidence that he’d been back to make himself something to eat, but no follow-up note about where he was and when he’d return.

  And at the end of her workday, she missed him again, this time leaving him a note of her own, saying that she was attending book club in Sandwich and wouldn’t be back until later.

  When she returned, he was sitting on the couch in the living room, studying maps of the property, and her heart took flight. Soared through the sky to the watchtower and back, only grounding itself again when she realized that he didn’t look up at her as she closed the door and locked it behind her.

  “I’m home,” she said, feeling stupid announcing herself when he obviously heard her walk in.

  He didn’t look up. “Uh-huh.”

  “All good?” she asked, awkwardly.

  “Huh?” he muttered.

  “Hi,” she said directly.

  He finally looked up. “Hi.”

  Her cheeks colored because his tone was abrupt, and he immediately looked back down at what he was doing. Was she bothering him? Because it sure felt like it.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “So far, so good.”

  “Did you have dinner?”

  “Yeah. I heated up some leftover soup.”

  She held out a plastic wrapped paper plate of leftover cookies, just under his nose. “I brought these from book club. Thought you might want one.”

  “Great. You can leave them there,” he said dismissively, gesturing to the corner of the coffee table. “Thanks.”

  What was going on with him?

  On Wednesday, it felt like she and Burr were at the start of something—the way he called her aisling, the way he’d kissed her good-bye, the way he’d held her so tightly before the barbecue, the way they’d chatted so easily walking up to the great house after dinner.

  And now? He felt like a stranger—even more than he did the night he arrived. What had changed?

  “Did I…?” She swallowed, biting her lower lip as she stared down at his bristly head.

  “Hmm?”

  “Have I offended you, um, somehow?”

  “No,” he said, still staring at his damned maps.

  Fine, she thought. I’m not going to beg you for attention.

  “I’m going out tomorrow night,” she threw over her shoulder as she headed for the stairs.

  “Yeah. I remember.”

  She paused and turned around. “Aren’t you going to tell me to have a good time?”

  “No, I’m bloody well not,” he answered grimly. He didn’t look up at her, but she saw the tic in his jaw that indicated he was clenching it.

  Hmm. Okay. So he wasn’t completely immune to her. Was he upset that she was going out on a date with another man?