Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(59)

She clung another moment when he would’ve pulled back, and nearly undid him.

“Well then,” he managed, and ordered his hands back down by his sides. Then, safer yet, into his pockets.

She just stood there, her pretty eyes heavy, her lips curved and so soft. So soft he wanted to—

“You could come back, after you take Meara home. You could drop Fin off and come back. Then you could take me to work in the morning.”

“I . . .” The idea of it, a night with her, had every need inside him threatening to boil over. “I’m thinking with Branna and Connor in the house that would be awkward at best. And there’s the matter of rushing the fences.”

“You want dinner first.” Her smile perked up when she clearly saw he didn’t get the joke. “That’s fine. I think it’s simpler to be clear, from my side, that when it’s not awkward or rushed, I want to be with you. It’s not that I take sex lightly, it’s that I don’t.”

“You’re a puzzle, Iona. I’d like to figure more of you out.”

“That’s nice. I don’t think I’ve ever been a puzzle to anyone before. I think I like it.” She rose on her toes again, brushed his lips lightly with hers. “I’ll help you fit some of those pieces together if I can.”

“I’ll work on it in my own time. In the morning then.”

“Okay. Good night.”

She locked up behind him, watched through the rain as he strode to his truck. And did a little dance in place as she watched the lights sweep, then move away through the dark.

She puzzled him, and wasn’t that wonderful? Iona heart-on-her-sleeve Sheehan, the girl who too often blurted out her thoughts before they’d fully formed, puzzled Boyle McGrath.

Talk about power. Talk about wonder.

The delight of it carried her out of the workshop and into the kitchen, where she threw her arms around Branna for a spin.

“Well then, I see groping with Boyle’s given you a fine burst of energy.”

“It was really good groping. He asked me out, in his Boyle way. ‘We’ll go have dinner sometime.’”

“Christ Jesus!” Eyes wide, hand flying to her heart, Branna goggled. “It’s all but a proposal of marriage.”

Too happy to be dampened, Iona laughed. “It’s a big step up from grunting at me. He thinks I’m a puzzle, can you imagine? I mean, seriously, who couldn’t figure me out? I’m as simple as they come.”

“Do you think so?”

“I sure don’t run deep. I’m going to have some tea. Do you want tea? God, I’m crazy about him.”

“It’s early days for crazy, isn’t it?”

“I don’t get that, never have.” Iona put the kettle on, contemplated Branna’s collection of homemade teas. “Don’t you know when you know? Five minutes, five years—how does that change what you know? I wanted to know with the man I was with before. I tried to know. I liked him, and I was comfortable with him. I told myself, give it more time. But time didn’t change anything. Not for either of us as it turned out.”

Branna thought of what Connor had said. “You want to give love, and to be given it.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted most. I’m going for your lavender blend, not only because it smells wonderful, but it’s for relaxation.” She glanced back. “For a restful night’s sleep. I’m so up I need to come down some to get one. Right?”

“It’s a good choice, and yes, you’re learning. Which brings me to this. It’s a bit late, but I think we’ve both got another hour in us. We’ll work a spell. Something very, very simple,” she said as Iona’s face burst with joy. “A toe in the water.”

“I’m a jump-in-feet-first fan, but I’ll take the toe. Thanks, Branna.”

“Thank me in an hour, and if you’ve managed to master the spell. Here.”

“A broom. Am I going to fly on it?”

“You are not. You’ll learn a protection spell, and with this, you’ll learn to sweep away the negative energies, the films and dusts of dark forces and lay in the strong, the positive. Our home is always to be protected. It’s the first you should learn, and I should’ve taught you before this.”

Iona took the broom. “Teach me now.”


*


SHE SLEPT DEEP AND DREAMLESS, AND FACED THE DAY—RAIN, but slower and thinner—with enthusiasm. As she beat both her cousins to the kitchen, she put on the coffee and considered trying her hand at breakfast for three. Her talents there might be limited, but she thought she could handle scrambled eggs. And if she cooked ham and cheese in them, they’d be a sort of lazy-woman’s omelet.

Organization, she told herself. Line up ingredients and tools first. She got down a skillet, a mixing bowl and whisk, a grater for the cheese, a knife and board for the ham.

So far so good.

Eggs, ham, cheese from the fridge—oh, and butter for the skillet.

Break eggs in bowl, she instructed herself, then open the cupboard under the sink to toss the shells in the bin Branna used for compost waste. She noted then in the confusion of cleanup the night before they’d neglected to take out the trash.

Determined to be organized, she pulled out the filled liner, tied it, and hauled it to the door to take out to the big bin.