Page 125 of Road Trip
“To me. As you should have done in the first place.”
Maeve looked down at Lucy, who had slowly managed to crawl entirely onto her lap. She realized that her own sobbing and shivering had subsided.
Liam’s presence—solid, unwavering, wordlessly reassuring—had warmed her as thoroughly as the brandy-spiked tea.
“Have you eaten anything since I saw you earlier?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Come into the kitchen and we’ll see what we can do about that.”
She sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter. He held up the brandy bottle and a bottle of his Tarrymore whiskey. “I’ve wine too,” he offered.
“Maybe just the whiskey,” she said.
“I know, ice and water back. A terrible crime, but you’ve been traumatized so I’ll spare you the lecture tonight.”
He stood with his back to her, with the refrigerator door open, and she tried not to ogle his perfectly muscled wide shoulders, bare back, and the pajama pants that hung loosely on his hips.
“I didn’t get to the market this week, so this’ll have to be a bit of a make-do,” he said, producing a bunch of grapes, a couple slabs of cheese, and some other bits and pieces. He whistled under his breath while he sliced an apple, then set it on a cutting board along with a salami, a few olives, and part of a loaf of brown bread.
Maeve marveled at his ease as he moved around the kitchen. Lucy sat at her feet, and when she thought Liam wasn’t looking, she tossed the dog a chunk of salami.
“I saw that,” Liam said. He pointed to the charcuterie platter. “Eat.”
He poured some of the whiskey into a cut-glass tumbler and pulled up a barstool next to hers, helping himself to a few grapes.
“You’re not eating?” she asked.
“We did brick-oven pizza on the patio at the distillery for the china painting ladies,” he said. “Had I known you’d be joining Lucy and me for dinner, I would have brought some home.”
Maeve layered a slice of cheese on a hunk of bread and chewed slowly, then washed it down with some whiskey.
“D’you know what I think?” Liam asked, swirling whiskey around in his own tumbler, watching as the amber color caught the light.
“About?”
“This. You. Me.”
She gulped down the rest of her drink and pushed her chair away from the counter. “Is this the part where you psychoanalyze the rigid, frigid, emotionally and sexually repressed middle-aged spinster? Because if it is, I’m out. Been there, done that. Thanks for the dinner and the sympathetic ear. Now I’m gonna just go ahead and drive toward Dublin. I’m sure there’ll be a roadside motel somewhere along the way.”
He caught her hand in his. “Don’t go. Please? Nobody’s calling you frigid. A little on the rigid spectrum, yes. Also, I would never call you middle-aged. But I do think you’re afraid of what it might mean if you stayed.”
She bristled and pointedly stared down at his hand until he released hers. “I’m afraid of rats. Definitely. And spiders. But I’m not afraid of a man who I’ve basically just met.”
“Ahh, but that’s the thing, Maeve. You told me yourself, and very clearly, that Maeve Dunagin is not the type to hook up with some random chap she meets on vacation. No. You are a woman with a plan. An agenda, one might say. Someone whoneveracts on impulse or strays from her self-imposed rules of behavior.”
Maeve’s eyes burned with fatigue and her legs felt like concrete. And she was emotionally spent. She desperately needed sleep, and she wanted this futile conversation to end.
“You’re right about one thing,” she said, relenting. “I am too tired to drive tonight. So if you’ll loan me a blanket, and your sofa, I’ll not trouble you for anything else.”
Liam’s eyes took in her travel-worn appearance: the hair tied back in a messy bun, the hollow eyes, wrinkled clothes, and lack of makeup.
“Just one more thing. You told me you’ve recently lost your mum, your job, and the expected bit of inheritance from your mum’s estate. So, I’m just wondering what it is about your old life that you’re so almighty determined to get back to?”
She blinked and rubbed at her eyes.
“I’ll tell you, Maeve. I think you’re afraid to take a leap of… faith, in yourself. To see how you could fashion a new life for yourself, with new rules.”
