The Mighty Quinns: Riley (6 page)

The rest of the boys got behind the scheme, lining themselves up and clearing their throats. “You really think you can beat me?” Riley said.

“The way I hear it, you're not all that good,” Donal said.

“All right. You're asking for a pint of humiliation, Donal Duffy. But I accept your challenge.”

Donal stood in front of his mates and began the verse of “Wild Rover,” a well-known pub song. As soon as he sang the first note, Riley knew he had him beat. What woman wanted to hear a drinking song?

“‘I've been a wild rover for many the year,'” Donal sang in a decent baritone voice, “‘and I spent all me money on whiskey and beer, and now I'm returning with gold in great store, and I never will play the wild rover no more.'”

The team joined him in the chorus, belting out the words with drunken glee, stomping to accent some of the words. “‘And it's no, nay, never! No, nay, never, no more, will I play the wild rover. No, nay, never, no more!'”

The song went on for three more verses before it
ended in a raucous finish that included a bit of dancing and some out-of-tune harmonies. When it was over, Nan clapped along with the crowd and congratulated the singers on a job well done. Then she leaned close to Riley and whispered in his ear. “Please tell me you have something better. I'm tired and I want to go home.”

“All right,” Riley said, holding out his hands to quiet the crowd. “This is an old song but one that's perfect for the moment.”

“Oh, Jaysus, please tell me he's not going to sing ‘I Love You, I Do,'” Donal muttered.

Riley smiled smugly. Everyone in Cork knew Riley had written the pop hit, a silly little ballad that had paid a tidy sum in royalties for the past five years. One of Britain's most popular boy bands had recorded it, and when it hit the top of the charts, Riley had become a local celebrity. Unfortunately, it instantly became his most requested number whenever he performed.

He grabbed a chair and put it in front of him, then lifted Nan to stand on it. “I won't be singing that song,” he muttered. The patrons grew silent as they waited for him to start. Standing in front of her, Riley began to sing the first verse of “Parting Glass,” a traditional Irish tune about saying farewell.

Nan stared down at him, a smile playing on her lips, her eyes shining. He sang the second verse to the crowd, turning to the boys as the words turned to friendship. But for the last verse, he turned back to Nan. Summoning up all the emotion he could find, he took her hands and sang from his heart.

The crowd was silent for a long time after he ended. Nan's eyes were teary and when she jumped off the chair and threw herself into his arms, everyone erupted in applause. The sound of their cheers faded as Riley kissed her, his fingers tangling in her hair as he molded her mouth to his.

“So, I guess that means I won?” he murmured, looking down into her eyes.

“Take me home,” she said.

“That I will,” Riley said, the turned to shake Donal's hand. “Good song.”

“Ah, I should have known better,” Donal muttered. “Ye even brought a tear to my eye.”

Riley wove his fingers through Nan's, then drew her along to the door. When they got outside, they strolled up the street to where they'd parked the car.

“That song was beautiful,” Nan said softly.

“I sang it for you.”

“No one's ever sung a song for me before.”

They stopped beside the car. “Well, I had to make it good,” Riley replied. “I was getting a bit tired of sharing you with those lads.”

He pulled open the door and waited till she was inside, then circled to the driver's door. They drove out of the village and up the narrow road to the cottage. She hadn't left a light burning, so he held tight to her hand as they walked up the dark front path. When they reached the door, she turned and faced him.

“Thank you for today. For everything you did to make my first day in Ireland memorable.”

He bent close and touched his lips to hers. “Glad to be of service,” he murmured. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She opened the door behind her and backed inside, pulling him along with her. “You could help me find the lights,” she said.

He reached around the door and flipped the lights on in the parlor. “How's that?”

“Better,” she said.

With every moment that passed, Riley found himself more determined to deny his need. They'd barely known each other twelve hours and all he could think
about was pulling her into the bedroom and getting them both naked. He'd even put a few johnnies in his wallet just in case he needed them. “You'll be all right up here by yourself?”

“Yes,” Nan said, nodding.

“I could stay a little longer, if it would make you feel more comfortable.” He slipped his arm around her waist and bent close to kiss her. It had almost become second nature, covering her sweet mouth with his, feeling her body in his arms.

As his tongue traced the crease of her lips, Nan sighed. She slipped her hands beneath the front of his jacket, pushing it over his shoulders. Riley tugged it off his wrists and let it drop to the floor. “I guess I'm going to be staying for a while?”

“A little while,” she said with a smile. She shrugged out of her own jacket, then drew him along to the sofa. “I don't have anything to offer you to drink.”

“I'm not thirsty,” he said.

The need between them was growing with every fleeting touch. He sat down on the sofa, then pulled her down into his lap. Riley drew her mouth to his, hungry for her taste, his tongue plunging deep.

She tugged at his T-shirt and with a soft curse he pulled it off over his head and threw it aside. Her hands were all over him as he kissed her, smoothing over his shoulders, running down his chest. The sensation of her fingertips on his skin sent a flood of desire rushing through him.

He was already hard, his response to her instant and intense. She shifted on his lap and he groaned softly.
It was clear that she took the sound for impatience and Nan quickly discarded her own shirt, leaving her in just a lacy scrap of a bra.

Riley pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, then slowly moved lower, his tongue trailing over silken skin. When he reached the tops of her breasts, he tugged the lace aside, revealing the soft swell of flesh.

Nan raked her hands through his hair and tipped her head back, moaning softly as his tongue teased at her nipple, drawing it to a tight peak. Riley knew if he didn't stop now, there would be no stopping at all.

Nan wasn't just some girl he'd picked up after a show, someone he'd enjoy then never see again. She was someone he genuinely liked, someone he wanted to spend time with. And he wasn't willing to do anything to jeopardize that.

Slipping his arm beneath her knees, he stood up and carried her into the bedroom. The room was dark and cold, the breeze from the sea blowing through the open window. He gently laid her on the bed, then sat down beside her, bracing his hand on the other side of her body and leaning close.

“I'm going to leave,” he said, dropping a kiss on her lips. “I don't want to, but I think it's probably a good idea. You need to get some sleep.”

“I want you to stay,” she said, reaching out to smooth her palm over his cheek.

“We've known each other for about twelve hours,” he said. “I think maybe we should wait for another twelve to twenty-four before we sleep together…?”

She smiled. “All right.”

“No one will ever accuse me of not being a gentleman,” Riley teased.

“I already know you're not a gentleman,” she said. “You called me prissy.”

“Well, I was wrong, Miss Galvin. You're the most unprissiest woman I've ever met.” He bent close again and kissed her. “I'll see you in the morning. Come down to the pub and I'll make us both breakfast.”

He stood up and walked to the bedroom door, then turned back to her. “Good night, Nan.”

“'Night, Riley.”

Riley walked through the cottage and out the front door, into the cool night. He drew a deep breath and smiled to himself. He'd never in his life turned down a warm and willing woman. But then, he'd never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Nan. The best things in life were always worth waiting for.

“M
ORNIN
'.”

Nan smiled at the handsome man behind the bar, then realized he was the brother she'd met last night, freshly shaved and sober. “You're Danny, right?”

He nodded. “Danny. We met last night. Although it was so black in here that we didn't have time for a proper introduction.” He held out his hand over the bar. “Danny Quinn. I'm the younger. Don't know if you'll get a chance to meet Kellan. He's the elder.”

She shook his hand, then took a seat on one of the stools. “I'm Nan. Nan Galvin.”

“I remember,” he said, his smile wide. “And how are you enjoying your stay in Ballykirk so far?”

“I haven't seen much,” she replied. “Riley said we were going out sightseeing after breakfast, but it's almost time for lunch. Is he here?”

“He had to make a quick run into Glengarriff to pick up mussels, but he said to tell you he'd be back around eleven. Which means, he'll be back in ten minutes. Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“Coffee, if you have it,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I'm trying to reset my clock and I think it might take more than a day.”

“How do you have it?”

“Black,” she said. “And very strong.”

“Katie's made some lovely soda bread. Can I interest you in a slice? Fresh out of the oven.”

Nan nodded. “I'd like to try that. I read in my guidebook that it's traditional Irish food.”

Danny disappeared into the kitchen. While she waited, Nan took in more details of the pub. She hadn't had much chance to really look around. Riley had told her about watching the singers in his parents' pub, about how he'd memorize all the songs and then try to figure them out on an old guitar his father had bought him.

This place was as familiar to him as the library was to her. She peered at an old photo hung above the cash register and then circled the bar to take a closer look.

A man and woman stood in front of the pub with two teenage girls and a trio of young boys. Nothing had changed much in the ensuing years with respect to Riley and Danny, Nan thought. The two Quinn brothers she'd already met still possessed their boyish smiles and tousled hair. The sisters, though all arms and legs, were already beauties.

The kitchen door opened and Danny reappeared with a plate and a mug. “Here we are,” he said.

“I'm sorry,” Nan murmured. “I was just taking a look at this photo. You and your brother haven't changed much.”

“That was taken the day my da bought in to the
Hound,” he said. “I think I was seven. Riley was nine and Kellan would have been eleven. Shanna and Claire were teenagers.” He set the plate and mug on the bar. “There are other photos over on that wall. A few of Riley performing when he was just a lad.”

She returned to her seat and picked up the coffee, then took a slow sip. “Umm, I really needed this. I have to shop for groceries today. I don't have anything up at the cottage. Where would I go?”

“We have a small green grocer in town. He sells locally grown vegetables. And the baker's right next door to him. If you want fish, just walk down to the waterfront when the boats come in. If you want chicken, Bobby Rankin raises them and will deliver them to the green grocer the day after you order. Anything else, you'll need a real supermarket and that's in Kenmare, across the pass.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“No problem,” he said with a warm smile. “Now, you'll have to pardon me because I need to change out the barrel on the Guinness.”

As promised, the soda bread was lovely—a bit tangy and filled with plump, sweet raisins. She spread butter over a slice and took a big bite, then groaned softly. It was the perfect breakfast food, she mused. Grabbing her mug, Nan walked over to the wall of photos, curious to find more of Riley. There were layers upon layers, some so old they were yellow and curled and the color faded.

As promised, there were a number of Riley performing at the pub, from the time he was just a young boy
through adulthood. She compared each one, noting how happy he looked standing in front of the microphone, his guitar almost bigger than he was.

As she turned away to return to the bar, a snapshot caught her eye. Nan stepped closer, leaning in to the group of six young twenty-somethings—three men and three women. For a moment, her heart stopped beating and she felt dizzy.

One of the girls in the photo looked so much like her mother it was—no, it had to be her mother. She set her bread and coffee down on the edge of the pool table and carefully peeled the photo off the wall. Nan hurried over to the window, searching for more light.

“Oh, it is,” she murmured, the words coming out on a sigh. There was no doubt in her mind. Though the colors were faded, the girl with the red hair was someone she'd seen in pictures at home—the wedding photo her father had kept on the mantel, the framed portrait that she'd had next to her bed and the family pictures that her grandparents had pasted in albums.

A rap at the window startled Nan out of her contemplation and she looked up to find Riley smiling at her. She quickly shoved the photo into her jacket pocket and hurried to the door. When he stepped inside, Nan wasn't quite sure what to do. She wanted to put the photo back where she'd found it, yet she needed time to examine it more closely.

She'd put it back later. No one would miss it, not with all the other photos tacked to the wall. Riley appeared in the doorway and Nan smiled. Her first impulse was to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. But
the ease they shared yesterday had been tempered by a night apart. “Hi,” she said.

“Well, what kind of sorry greeting is that?” To her relief, Riley grabbed her around the waist and gave her a playful kiss. “Hello. You're up early. I expected you'd sleep the day away.”

“No,” she said, smiling up at him. “I feel great.”

“You look great,” he said, cupping her face with his hand. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Danny brought me coffee and some soda bread. I didn't have anything at the cottage to eat.”

“Well, we'll have to go get you what you need. I'm just going to grab some coffee and we'll be off.”

Nan retrieved her coffee from the pool table and gobbled down the rest of her bread, then wrapped the other two pieces in a bar napkin. When Riley returned with his coffee, he walked to the door and held it open. “Ireland awaits.”

When they got outside, Nan remembered that the car was still at the cottage. “We'll have to walk back,” she said. “I was afraid to bring the car.”

“We can take my car,” he said. He pointed to a Toyota SUV parked at the curb. The back hatch was open and Katie, the cook, was retrieving small crates and setting them on the sidewalk. “Thanks, darlin'.”

“Your car? This is what you drive?”

“Yeah. I have to haul a lot of gear when I have a gig. And this morning, I hauled mussels from Bantry.”

“If this car has an automatic transmission, I'm going to murder you,” she said.

He chuckled as he opened her door. “Sorry. It's got
a gearshift. And no, I'm not going to let you drive this one until you've mastered the clown car.”

“I've decided that I'm not going to learn how to drive that car. I'm just going to have you chauffeur me everywhere I want to go.”

He closed her door, then got in the driver's side. “I think that's a grand plan. And where would you like to go this morning?”

“I need to buy some groceries.”

They took off out of town, the morning breeze blowing through the sunroof of Riley's SUV. As they drove up into the hills, the roads grew more winding and the landscape more rugged. “Why are there no trees?” she asked. “I expected forests.”

“Ah, that's a long and complicated story,” he said.

“Tell me,” Nan said. “I want to know.”

“Ireland is a great rock of an island. Many years ago, the land was covered with trees, but people started to clear the higher land for pastures, mostly because there weren't as many trees up high to clear. But without the trees, the good soil washed down to the lowlands and the only thing that would grow up high was heather. The heather doesn't decompose and the new just keeps growing on top of the old and it makes peat. Peat soaks up water and turns land into a bog. And trees won't grow in a bog.” He shrugged. “And pretty soon, all the trees were gone, high and low, cut for fuel or furniture.”

“I still think it's beautiful,” she said. “Just the way it is. It's wild and natural. Kind of uncivilized.”

“Did you bring your camera?” he asked. “We'll stop at Healy Pass. There's a grand overlook there that I
think you'd like. Though the Cahas aren't the Alps, they're the highest in Cork.”

She reached in her pocket and pulled out her camera, but the photo fell out onto the console between them. Nan quickly picked it up, but not before Riley saw it. “What's that?”

She held it out to him, hoping he'd forgive her for taking it from the pub. “It's a photo of my mother,” Nan replied, holding it out to him. “I found it at the pub. I didn't mean to take it, but I wanted to look at it more closely.”

“I'm sure it won't be missed,” he said. “Those photos were in the pub when my folks bought it, so I can't tell you much about them.” He stared at it. “Which one is she?”

“The one in the middle with the red hair,” she said. “At least I think that's her.”

“Pretty,” he commented. He handed it back to Nan. “It's easy to see where you got your fine looks.”

Nan frowned. “I don't think I look like her at all. I think I resemble my dad. He had dark hair when he was young.”

They drove on, Nan staring at the photo and ignoring the landscape. All of the people in the photo had known her mother. And some of those people might have lived in Ballykirk. She flipped the photo over, hoping there might be an inscription on the back identifying the subjects, but it was blank.

If any of the people were from the village, someone would have to recognize them. And that might lead her to another person who might have known her mother.
Nan ran her fingers over the photo. They all looked so young and happy. Her mother's smile was so bright, her face alive with happiness.

As they continued their drive, Nan thought about her reasons for coming to Ireland. Was she chasing a ghost? The last two years of Laura Galvin's life were spent in and out of hospitals and before that, Nan had only scant recollections of the lively and laughing woman.

All she knew was that there was an empty spot inside of her, as if part of her identity was missing. She wasn't sure who to be or how to be. And when it came to love, she had nothing but romantic movies and books to guide her.

How many times had she wondered about love, about all the things that a mother told her daughter on the subject? No one had ever explained how it was supposed to feel. She'd never really seen it at home. Of all the questions she'd dreamed about asking her mother, that had been the most important. How would she know when she met the right man? How would it feel?

“Here we are,” Riley said. He turned onto the edge of the road. “We'll have to walk a bit, but it will be worth it.”

Nan looked out the window, surprised by the change in the landscape and the weather. The powerful rugged beauty of the land took her breath away and she stared at the unearthly sight, made even more strange by the wispy fog that hung over it all. Everywhere she looked was a picture waiting to be snapped, a perfect postcard image of a countryside so stunning it made her heartache.

Nan tucked the photo back into her pocket as she jumped out of the truck. From where she stood, she could look out at the valley below and the winding road that cut through it. Behind her, the mountains rose higher, huge craggy slabs of stone jutting into the gloomy sky.

“If we hike up a ways, there's a better view,” Riley said. He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. A flood of warmth rushed through her at his touch. Yesterday, she'd been all alone in the world. And today, she had this man who wanted to spend time with her, a man who enjoyed kissing and touching her. A man who wanted to spend the night in her bed.

Nan leaned into his body and smiled. As she came around the truck, she noticed two sheep observing them from across the road. They jumped off the small ledge they were standing on and headed toward her.

A tiny scream slipped from her throat and she held tight to Riley's arm as they nudged her, sticking their noses beneath her jacket.

“Get off, you tossers!” he said, pushing the sheep aside. “The tourists feed them and now they stand around waiting for something tastier than turf.”

Nan laughed as one of the sheep butted her in the backside. She ran up the road and the determined sheep trotted after her. “I love Ireland,” she called to Riley, throwing her arms out to the sky.

 

T
HEY HIKED UP
to the top of the pass, stopping at the solitary house on the road, now turned into a shop that
sold souvenirs and ice cream. Riley bought a cone and they shared it as they continued on up to the grotto.

The four white statues depicting Mary at the cross were set into the mountainside, a stark contrast to the gray surrounding them. Though he wasn't a particularly religious man, after a lifetime spent in a land filled with Catholic monuments, he'd come to appreciate how much a part of him it all was.

“Are you Catholic?” he asked.

She shook her head. “My mother was before she was married. My mother's parents were. But I was baptized Episcopalian.”

Slowly, he was learning things about her, tiny facts that really didn't change his feelings for her, but completed the picture. “We have a thing for the Virgin Mary here in Ireland.”

“It's beautiful,” she said.

They continued on up the pass, to its highest point. Though he drove through the pass almost weekly, he'd never stopped to really look at it through a stranger's eyes. “They named this spot one of the top ten most romantic places in Ireland,” he said.