Silver at Midnight: A Paranormal Romance Urban Fantasy (The Keepers of Knowledge Series Book 5) by Bridgette O'Hare (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📗

Eleven

When I arrived at The Black Cat Café, it appeared closed. Every picture window that had showcased the view from the inside looking out was covered with a pull-down shade. Cian greeted me at the door as though he’d been standing there watching for me to arrive.

“G’ mornin’, Sunshine,” he offered. “You’re right on time.”

“And you expected otherwise?” I replied. “Thank you,” I added as he held the door for me to pass through. He stopped to lock the door, both physically and otherwise. I pretended not to pay attention.

Breakfast was already spread out and waiting on a table near the bar. Immediately, I thought of Uncle Lachlan’s comment about punctuality and, for some reason, the sense that he knew more than he had let on played in my mind once more.

“Wow, this looks amazing,” I admitted, looking from the stack of pancakes to a plate of bacon and a bowl of fresh strawberries and pineapple.

“Let’s just hope it tastes as good as it looks,” he joked. “Also, I hope you don’t have an aversion t’ carbs.”

“Nope. They are my favorite food group,” I said. And I meant it.

“Good,” he laughed. “Please, sit down. I’ll get some fresh coffee. Apologies, it doesn’t have whiskey this morning,” he said as he made his way toward the coffee pot.

“I’m just hoping I don’t feel like I need whiskey,” I said under my breath.

“Hey, I heard that,” he called from behind the bar.

“Impressive hearing.”

“Family trait,” he said as he returned and poured the hot coffee into the same mug I’d used the night before. “I noticed you seemed to like this mug, so I made sure it was washed and ready for you.”

He was observant. More observant than I had given him credit for.

“Thank you. What else did you notice?” I asked as he took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

He squared himself across from me, settled his elbows and clasped his hands together, then looked intently at me. I could have sworn he stared straight into my soul. I found myself wondering if others felt a similar sensation when I read them. Did they feel like their breath had been pushed from their lungs and the ability to speak had been stripped away? I had never considered that Soul Sight might cause some type of physical reaction. Of course, I couldn’t think of a single time I had locked eyes with someone quite so intently to read them, either.

“I don’t think we have enough time for me t’ list everything I’ve noticed about you, Aisling O’Cléirigh,” he remarked with a seriousness that lurked just behind his smile.

His husky tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself trying to recover quickly. Not sure what to say, I opted for saying nothing and reached for the small carafe of coffee creamer. I glanced up to find him gazing at me with a satisfied smirk. I tried to ignore him and stir my coffee.

“So, are ya going t’ stare at me like that all morning or are we going t’ eat those pancakes before they get cold?” I posed.

A low chuckle stirred in his chest. “By all means, let’s eat.”

He held out the plate of pancakes; I selected two from the top of the stack and plopped them on my plate then scooped some fruit from the bowl and placed it in the small side dish to my left. In gentlemanly fashion, he set the syrup close to me and waited for me to get my fill while he set up his own plate. When I took the first bite, I almost cussed. They were the best pancakes I’d ever tasted.

“Oh-my-great. Okay, I have t’ ask. First the soup and coffee last night, now the pancakes. What kind of magic are you using in this café?” I mumbled with a mouthful of food. Lady-like, I know.

He broke out in full-on laughter, giving him an entirely different appearance—one that was even more attractive. Damn him. “No magic. At least, none that I’m aware of,” he added.

We ate for a few minutes before he broke the silence. “So, let’s have it. I know you have questions for me. I’d prefer ya ask while you’re on a carb induced high. In case ya don’t like my answers,” he winked lightheartedly.

I nodded, took a sip of coffee, and sat up straight. “Very well, how did a bar owner—that would be you, in case ya happen t’ be wonderin’ who I mean—who lived on another continent, know who I was? By name, but apparently not by face?” I asked and then steadied my mind so that no matter what his answer, I was prepared to maintain as little reaction as possible.

“Like I said, that’s what I like about ya, Aish. Right for the jugular, no holdin’ back.” He pulled a swig from his coffee and sat his mug down. “First, kudos on doin’ your homework,” he offered a nod presumably referring to my learning he owned Rocky’s Tavern. “Last night, I promised ya I’d give my trust first, and so I shall. I’m not just a bar owner. Though, I suspect you’ve likely questioned that already.”

I gave him a knowing head shake as I took another bite of breakfast.

“I work for an organization that operates under the radar, much like Natra does.” He paused as if he were waiting for my reaction to his awareness of Natra. I made a mental note, naturally.

I kept eating and listening. Shoveling food was a great distraction method.

“We’ve been aware of The Saiad for quite some time. About a year ago, someone we had on the inside mentioned a woman who had been feeding information t’ one of their higher ups. Her name was Ashlyn O’Connor. Maybe you’ve heard of her,” he grinned and watched me.

When he mentioned my alias, I managed to avoid spitting my coffee across the table at him, but I didn’t manage to avoid almost choking as it