Irish Sex Fairy: Ellora's Cave by Kelly Jamieson (free books to read txt) 📗

her progeny, his eating, sleeping and pooping habits. Keara was happy to hear they were doing well, but a little lost in that conversation. Then, after a promise to get together soon, she called Monica.

No answer.

Fine. She called Paige. She too was happy to hear from Keara, but sounded…cautious. Like maybe she was a nut case or something. “How are you doing?” she asked hesitantly. “How are the nightmares?”

“I haven’t had one for a while,” Keara replied. Maybe because so many nights had been spent with Shane. She had no fears with him, other than the fear of…well, him. Or maybe it was her feelings for him. “I’m doing much better. Really. Some strange things happened in Kilkenny, but all coincidence, and I’m back at work now.”

“That’s so good! But hey, I have to jet—I’m meeting Monica at a new club on Wilshire.”

“Oh. Okay.” She blinked. Waited for an invitation.

“So call me, okay? We’ll get together.”

She hung up the phone, dejected and even more lonely. She’d only been gone a few weeks. How could they have forgotten her that fast? Abandoned her?

Why hadn’t she just told Paige, hey, I’m coming with you guys.

Because she didn’t really want to go clubbing.

She leaned forward and picked up the smooth piece of pink and gold marble sitting on her coffee table, fingertips rubbing over the sleek, cool surface, and her heart contracted as she thought of everything she had left in Kilkenny.

Chapter Nineteen

The next night when she got home from work, she decided after she’d parked her car she’d walk to the ice-cream store on the corner and get ice cream for dinner. When you lived alone, that was completely acceptable.

She made her purchase of a carton of dulce de leche, her absolute fav, and started strolling back toward her apartment building. It was dark already, because she’d stayed late at work to review some reports that she needed to be up to speed on for a meeting tomorrow.

Footsteps crunched behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder, because a girl on her own in a big city couldn’t be too careful, not because she was paranoid. Well, maybe just a tiny bit. Maybe it would take a long time to get over some of the aspects of the post-traumatic stress. Maybe she’d never get over them.

She sighed and shifted her purse over her shoulder, reaching for her keys as she neared the entrance to the building, her heart speeding up just a bit. Once inside the security system of the building, she’d be fine.

She unlocked the door and shifted her ice cream to pull it open but the door swung wide as if it had blown open. She almost stumbled at the unexpected loss of weight in her hand, and then a body pressed up close behind her.

Her heart jerked in her chest, then thudded. What the hell? She whirled around, ready to give someone hell for bashing into her, but froze when she saw who it was.

* * * * *

Shane ambled into his parents’ house and headed to the refrigerator. He hoped they had beer. They always had whiskey, but not always beer. But then again, maybe he was in a whiskey mood.

Yeah. He turned from the fridge and sought out a glass. The bottle of Jameson’s sat on the counter.

“Shane, what are you doing here?” His mom walked into the kitchen.

He shrugged. “Thought you might need some things done around the house.”

“Oh.” She tipped her head. “Well. I don’t think so. Not at the moment.”

‘How’s Da?”

“He’s fine. He’s sitting out back. Enjoying the last of the evening.”

Huh. Shane took his glass of whiskey and wandered out the patio doors. An image of him and Keara out here flirting blinded him. He shook his head. “Hey, Da. How’s it going?”

His dad looked up in surprise from the book he was reading. “Shane, me boy. What are you doing here?”

Shane grunted. They’d both asked him that. Nice greeting. “Jesus. I can’t just drop by?”

“Well, sure and you can, we love to have you.”

“I thought you might have some things for me to do. Something to fix. What about that lawnmower? Wasn’t it acting up?”

“I took it to Precision Motors and they fixed it.”

“Oh.” Shane frowned. “I could have done that.”

“I know. But you were busy last weekend with Keara, so I just took it in.”

“How’d you get it there?”

“Your mother and Jeff across the street helped me. It was easy.”

“Oh.” He gulped some throat-searing Jameson’s.

He gazed out at the yard, the lush carpet of green and luxuriant beds of flowers and shrubs. The setting sun saturated the greens and reds and yellows with rich light, and cast long shadows.

“What’s wrong?”

Shane looked at his dad “What? Nothing.”

His dad rolled his eyes. “That was the deepest sigh I’ve ever heard.”

He hadn’t realized he’d sighed.

“You’re all mad ouva.”

“No, I’m not.” And it was sad that he even understood his old man’s Irish brogue. Mad out of it. Out of his mind.

“About Keara. Because she’s gone.”

Shane shook his head and downed the whiskey.

“Here’s to women’s kisses.” His dad held up his nearly empty glass. “And to whiskey, amber clear; not as sweet as a woman’s kiss, but a darn sight more sincere!”

Shane gave a crooked smile.

“Not funny?” His dad shook his head. “Didn’t she do the same as Trista? Women.”

“Keara’s not like Trista. She had to go.”

“Ah. You’ve got it bad, boy.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Jaysus, boy, don’t been an eejit.” His dad scowled. “If you want her, go get her.”

Shane shook his head morosely. “She doesn’t want me.”

“The hell she doesn’t. I saw the way she looked at you. Maeve thinks she’s in love with you.”

Shane’s head jerked up. “She does? Why?”

His dad shrugged. “Ask her. Better yet, ask Keara.”

“She’s not here.”

“Ever hear of a phone?”

Shane snorted, looked out at the yard. Yeah, he could call her. But for what?

“She’s gone back to LA. Her big important career is there.” Even he could hear the bitterness in his voice. “And my life is here.”

“What’s