Page 127 of Road Trip
Only one way to find out.
She was out of clean clothes, so she turned her panties inside out and stepped into them and pulled on her jeans. She looked around the bathroom. Where the hell was her bra? She pulled on the cream-colored fisherman’s knit sweater that she’d splurged on in one of the village shops. When she walked back to the bedroom, Liam reached out and attempted to pull her back onto the bed. “It’s still early yet,” he protested.
“It’s after nine. What time do you ordinarily go to work?”
“On Fridays, not ’til noon. Come on, come back to bed awhile, we’ll work up an appetite, then I’ll fix you a proper Irish breakfast.”
“Blood sausage and baked beans?” She shuddered. “No thanks.”
“I’ve bacon from the home farm and I’ll do you a nice fry-up. And there are even scones. My sister-in-law Siobhan is a brilliant baker. And I’ve some lovely raspberry jam.”
She’d already decided not to tell him of her plan to stop by Esme’s on her way out of town. “Can’t. I’ve got to get to the American embassy in Dublin to apply for a replacement passport.”
He ran his hands through his hair, making even more of a mess of it, and she was sorely tempted to change her mind and do as he’d asked.
Instead, she stood up and glanced around the room. There was an overstuffed armchair covered in the same plaid fabric as the draperies, and Liam had neatly folded his clothes and placed them there the night before.
“My shoes,” she muttered. “I can’t find my shoes.”
He got out of bed, still naked, and surveyed the room whileMaeve tried unsuccessfully not to gawk at the sight of his well-muscled butt as he knelt on the floor and looked around.
“Here’s one,” he said, holding up her black ballet flat. “I can see the other one under your side of the bed. Have a look.”
Her side of the bed? It had such a cozy ring to it. She looked down and sure enough she saw the heel of her missing shoe poking out from beneath the bed frame. She retrieved it and put it on. “Liam, I really need to head out.”
“Right, but it can wait until after I’ve showered, can’t it? Do you think you could make us a pot of coffee? I really need some caffeine—don’t you? There are pods in a bowl beside the coffee maker. Cream’s in the icebox, sugar in the yellow bowl on the counter.”
He turned at the bathroom door. “Unless you’d care to join me in the shower? I’m practically an expert on scrubbing backs…”
“Some other time,” Maeve said.
While he wasin the shower, she took another look around the cottage—not snooping, she told herself, just curious about how an unmarried man could be so neat. She’d noticed Liam’s bed was made—before they toppled into it—and that the sheets seemed freshly laundered. The kitchen was spotless.
Maeve popped a pod into the coffee maker and found a small ironstone pitcher of cream in the fridge. There was a white paper sack on the counter and when she peeked inside, she spotted three scones.
She realized she was starved. She found a knife in a drawer, split the scone in half, and added a spoonful of jam from a jar that sat near the toaster. After fixing herself a mug of coffee she leaned over the sink to eat the scone, which left crumbs scattered all down the front of her sweater. Looking up, she saw she was being watched.
Liam leaned against the doorjamb. He was dressed in an olive-green T-shirt and jeans. His hair was still damp from the shower.
“I believe this is yours?” He held up her bra, and she took it from him, mortified.
The bra was damp, and the lace in both of the cups was in shreds.
“I noticed Lucy chewing on something. Sorry about that. I think she’s jealous.
“I’d offer to buy you another, but I don’t know a lot about shopping for women’s lingerie.”
“You never bought a bra for Bonnie?” She grinned as she stuffed the bra in her pocket and returned to her half-eaten scone.
He rolled his eyes. “I did not. Thankfully, Bonnie found me lacking in many ways and departed for greener pastures.
“I love a girl who isn’t embarrassed about having an appetite,” he said, crossing over to where she stood. He kissed her lightly.
“Mmm. Raspberry jam,” he said, helping himself to the other half of the scone.
“It’s heavenly,” Maeve said, handing him a mug of coffee. “Where’s it from? Maybe I could have some shipped home to my aunts.”
“Actually, it’s from the home farm at Tarrymore. One of the volunteers makes it from the raspberry patch there. You can buy jars of it in the gift shop.”
