Sheer Luck (11 page)

I lifted a hand to finger the strands of her
hair. “Am I too late,
mo grá?
”

Her lips parted, eyes widening. She offered
a very slight shake of her head.

“Does your offer still stand? Your luck and
love given freely?” Christ, I was dying. Though I’d never been more
sure of anything in my life, I wanted to give her an out. There was
still a chance her act wouldn’t break the curse. To me, a life
without her would
be
the curse. Not taking this chance, not
having her in my life, was as good as death.

Moisture welled in her eyes, coating her
thick, black lashes. Trembling, she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
She cleared her throat and spoke louder. “Yes.”

Two things happened right then. One, my
heart expanded to fill my chest, so encompassing the dark crevices
sealed. And two, I knew my family’s unlucky streak was over. There
were no bells and whistles, no signs from the heavens, but I was
certain. My soul melded with hers in my brother’s pub. Among a
throng of people amassed in green, drinking ale and chanting folk
songs, Lily and I became one, and I knew.

I cupped her cheeks and stroked her jaw with
my thumbs. “I love you. I accept your gift and will never throw it
away. You,
mo grá,
have all of me.”

She breathed a laugh, tears spilling, and
wrapped her arms around my neck. Her lips brushed my ear. “I love
you.”

I closed my eyes to savor the words. With an
arm around her back, I drew her against my chest and kissed her.
Her soft lips met mine, tender at first, and then she opened for
me. Heat infused my every cell when her tongue met mine, passion
and promise with every stroke.

Christ, I’d missed her.

I pulled away to drop my forehead to hers.
“I love you, too. So much.”

Aiden leaned over the bar, cupping the back
of my head and then Lily’s. He kissed my cheek. Kissed Lily’s. He
grinned, happiness and relief and triumph in his eyes. He held my
gaze for a moment and nodded, as if he too were sure of my
decision. Pouring the three of us a shot, he lifted his. “To love,
luck, and the end of bad omens.”

Smiling, I tossed back my shot. “
Gach lá
ar an saol ar fad tríd
.” Each day the whole life through.

I took Lily home and made love to her. Made
love to her every night, in fact. Three months later, I proposed to
her in Aiden’s pub. We bought a house—a three story old Victorian
that she said “had character.” Two months after that, we got
married in a small ceremony one year to the day we met, right next
to the bench where I first saw her and she’d picked our clover.

We didn’t talk anymore about curses, not
because we were superstitious or concerned, but because we knew and
believed there was no more curse.

And if there was any doubt to our truth, one
year after we wed, Lily delivered twins. Our twins. Perfect little
bundles with dark hair, my green eyes, and her addicting smile. A
little boy and...
a girl
.

Lucky me.

Kelly Moran

About the Book:

After losing his wife to the dreaded family
curse, Aiden O’Leary has sworn off love. But now that his brother
has claimed to turn the family luck around, he’s starting to wonder
if he might not be able to try again. Sierra Reif, his best friend
and son’s nanny, has always been there for him. And he wants her.
But just when it seems he might get a shot at normal, something
happens to prove not everyone is destined for an ever-after.

E
xhausted beyond
comprehensive thought, I locked the doors to my pub, Irish Eyes,
and, with my head down, made my way across the parking lot. We’d
had quite the crowd tonight. Seemed the closer it got to St.
Patrick’s Day the larger the draw. I’d been down a bartender, too,
since my manager had the night off. Crazy didn’t begin to describe
my mad rush to fill orders, to pretend I’d been listening to the
patrons’ stories and, most draining, keeping the forced grin on my
face.

T-minus one week until the stupid holiday I
hated most. Irish heritage be damned, if I never saw another
shamrock the rest of my life, I’d consider myself blessed.

Damp air, tinged with the threat of early
spring rain, filled my lungs. At two a.m., the St. Louis streets
were quiet, the night calm. Usually, this was damn near close the
best part of the day. When I closed the pub and the noise cut out,
it signaled my brain’s subconscious to trip the reminder of the
meager happiness I had in life. It meant I could go home, meant
she’d be there.

I wasn’t a
poor me
kinda guy. I knew
others had it much worse. Typically, I appreciated what I had and
didn’t focus on what I’d lost. Despite my wife’s death going on ten
years ago, I had a healthy, happy kid and family support. A cursed
family, but...yeah. Whatever.

The glib bit of joy died when I remembered
it was Tuesday. That meant no Sierra waiting when I stepped inside
my house. My son’s...nanny, for lack of a better term, had off on
Tuesdays. She’d been taking classes one night a week to get her
degree. My brother, Declan, watched Liam those nights, making
Tuesdays the shittiest day of the week. For the past nine years.
Worse, this week she had finals. As in, she was done with school.
She hadn’t discussed her plans regarding another job, and we’d
tip-toed around the issue.

I crossed under the orange-ish glow from the
streetlamps. Tension tightening my shoulders, I clicked the fob and
unlocked my truck. After starting the engine, I pulled out and
headed the few blocks home. Not that I didn’t love my little
brother to the ends of the earth, but his face was not the one I’d
wanted to see after a long damn shift. I gripped the wheel until my
knuckles popped, forcing my shit attitude down before I got to the
house. Declan would jump all over my ass and I wasn’t in the
mood.

My subdivision consisted of newish
cookie-cutter ranches that had as much personality as a sloth, but
it was safe, close to Liam’s school and the pub, and had been
within my price range. One day, I’d like to get a house with
character, one that told a story. The other homes were all dark as
I drove past, the lawns perfectly manicured, and not a one wove me
a tale. Irish roots. It was ingrained in my blood to love fables, I
supposed.

Truck in the garage, engine off, I scrubbed
my hands over my face to give myself a moment, and suddenly felt
much older than thirty-two. Sometime between twenty-two and now,
I’d aged about eighty years. Life, like shit, happened. What could
you do?

Declan was sprawled on the couch in the
living room, remote in one hand, cell in the other. Ever since my
brother had met, married, and had babies with Lily, he rarely went
five seconds without checking the phone. Couldn’t blame him. I
remembered those early years with Liam and could relate.

I tossed my keys on the entryway table and
glanced around. I guess I was a hypocrite because the interior of
the house didn’t have personality either. Not much, anyway. White
walls, a few general art landscapes, boring forest green couches
and plain oak tables. The mantle displaying family portraits and
the fridge door bearing Liam’s drawings were the only signs of
character. Not that I knew a damn thing about decorating.

I looked back at the sofa. “Hey.”

“Hey, Aiden.” Declan sat up and stretched.
“How was work?”

“Same ole, same ole.” I glanced toward the
kitchen just on the other side of the living room. The open floor
plan allowed me to note Declan had started the dishwasher. Amen for
that. “Any pizza left?” Declan and Liam usually tore through a
couple pies on Tuesdays. The pub had been too busy for me to
eat.

“Yeah. Saved you some.”

I nodded my thanks and grabbed a few slices
from the fridge. Beer in my other hand, I dropped next to Declan on
the couch, a rerun of Deadliest Catch illuminating the dark
room.

“How’s Thing One and Thing Two?” My brother
had adorable three-month-old twins. A boy and a girl. The first
girl to be born in our family in a hundred years. Amazing,
that.

A stupid, starry grin lit Declan’s face, and
I shoved the envy back in its hidey hole before my brother could
see it. “They’re awesome. Donovan smiles like he’s got hellhounds
at his feet and Meagan’s already practicing batting her eyelashes.
I think both will be geniuses.”

I laughed, the sound rusty, and swallowed a
cold bite of pizza. “You can tell already, huh?”

“Aye. And speaking of geniuses, your kid
beat me twice at chess, then lectured me about proper music choices
for the twins. You know, to enhance their brain activity.” He
pinned me with an incredulous stare. “Your son is nine going on
fifty.”

Yeah, that sounded like Liam. Almost from
birth, he seemed to have an old soul, wiser than his years. I never
had to worry about him being irresponsible or other crap most
fathers lost sleep over. No stupid stunts or broken bones. I had a
great kid.

I took a sip of beer and set it aside. “And
Lily? How’s she doing?” I hadn’t seen her as much as I would’ve
liked. I’d met her at the library where she works a number of years
ago when I’d signed Liam up for a children’s reading group. We’d
been friends ever since. Kinda nuts she was married to my brother
now.

Something wicked curved Declan’s smile,
infused his eyes, and I didn’t need a wild guess to know his mind
had gone from dirty to filthy.

I shook my head. “Never mind.”

It was good, though, to see him so happy.
Declan, like most of our family, had spent his life avoiding love
and falling for a woman. Curse, and all. He’d moved from
one-night-stand to one-night-stand so fast my head spun. And then
he’d met Lily. No one else had blipped his radar since.

His gaze met mine, and I was struck by how
physically alike we were. Though my eyes were more a grayish-blue
to Declan’s green, most of the differences ended there. We both
were an average height of a about six feet, worked out to keep fit,
sported the wide jaw and high cheekbones of our O’Leary ancestors,
and had black hair like our Celtic, Black Irish roots. Though, I
had a little gray weaving through my strands. I was only four years
older than him, but some days it felt like fifty.

Our personalities were on opposite ends of
the DNA spectrum, however. Declan was outgoing and fun. I faked it.
He had women eating out of the palm of his hand. I hadn’t had sex
since my wife died. He could make friends wherever he went. I had a
close couple and wasn’t looking for more.

To this day, I don’t know why I opened a
pub. Then again, my job was more about listening than interacting.
Yet, I really just didn’t like people all that much. If not for
work, I might’ve become a recluse. The option sounded appealing
more and more by the day.