My Life in Shambles(45)

“Well, it looks like you know what you’re doing,” I tell him. He’s so confident and comfortable with that owl on his arm. The owl looks as cool as a cucumber, albeit a little sleepy.

“I’m good at faking it,” he says with a wink. “Anyway, I can only handle ol’ Hooter here. The other”—he nods his head at the cages—“he doesn’t accept me as much. He’s a red-tailed hawk, named Clyde. Guess he’s a lot like my dad in that way.”

He frowns, a wash of agitation coming across his brow. “We used to have a kestrel and a barn owl too, but I suppose they got rid of them. I have to wonder what’s going to happen now. Back in the day, when the birds were part of the draw of staying here, both my dad and nan would take care of them, but with the way things are going…”

“If you wanted to show me the ropes, maybe I could help out,” I tell him.

He eyes me, amused. “You do know this isn’t something you can pick up right away. It takes a lot of training and reading.”

“I have nothing to do but train and read. I’m jobless, remember? Maybe I can write about it,” I add, even though writing has been the last thing on my mind since coming here. I had all these grand plans to write articles and freelance and, you know, be responsible, and it’s like the minute I met Padraig, all of that went out the window. He makes me brain dead.

“Well, if you’re that keen on it, I’ll see if I can get the books from Dad. Maybe if he’s feeling up to it, he can teach ye, too. Will do a better job than me, so long as ye don’t mind being called an eeijit every now and then.”

I smile. “I don’t mind if he doesn’t mind.” I rub my lips together for a moment. “Look, I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last night about how long I’m staying and I’m really sorry I just blurted it out like that without discussing it with you first.”

“It’s fine,” he says as the owl shifts slightly on his glove, his eyes starting to droop. “I’m glad ye said it.”

“Really? That didn’t freak you out?”

“Okay, it freaked me out for a moment, but the truth is … I want ye here, Val. I don’t think I can do this alone. Be here, see him like this, and…”

“And what?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. But honestly, as long as ye want to stay, I’m happy to have ye. And whenever ye want to go, I’ll pay your flight home. And if ye need money while you’re here, I’ll cover ye, and if you’re too proud for me to cover ye, then this place always needs a helping hand.”

“Okay,” I say, hope rising in my chest. It’s in this moment that I realize I have nothing going for me back at home. Nothing at all. And yet I already seem to have everything.

Right in front of me.

Holding an owl.

“Is it weird that I find this both terrifying and sexy?” I ask him, quietly gesturing to Hooter McGavin.

His grin widens. “That’s something I haven’t heard before. Where were you when I was a teenager and hanging out with birds all day?”

My eyes dart over to the high hedge that runs between this property and the house next door, where Gail lives. “Didn’t you say you got into trouble with the neighbor’s daughter when you were a teenager? Was that Gail?”

“How did ye know it was Gail?”

I fold my arms. “She told me just now over breakfast that she’s an ex-girlfriend and doesn’t expect to be invited to our wedding. She also told me I don’t know you well enough and that we’re moving too fast.”

He doesn’t look impressed. “She said all that just now?”

“I don’t think she likes me much.”

He sighs and looks off toward the house, the breeze catching the tips of his dark hair. “It’s not you. She doesn’t like me.”

“She seems to think you’re a big deal.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right. For the wrong reasons. Anyway, we were messy teenagers and there was a lot of heartache, and I was an arse on many accounts. It was a long time ago but perhaps she carries a grudge. I dunno. But she’s nothing for ye to be worried about.”

“She’s no threat to our fake relationship?”

“No,” he says. He clears his throat and looks me over carefully. “I was going to ask if ye wanted to learn a few things about falconry, but perhaps we should head inside. It’s just about freezing.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. It’s so fresh out, it’s making my hangover go away. Turns out I can’t handle whisky.”

“First of all, that’s blasphemy. And second of all, I thought you handled your whisky just fine,” he says. “Falling asleep peacefully is what every Irish person should do but it’s usually the opposite.” He sticks his arm out and the owl opens his eyes. “Now, here, the glove that I have is called the gauntlet. Obviously you need this or Hooter’s wee claws are going to break your skin.”

Those claws definitely aren’t wee.

He reaches back to thin leather strips that hang off the owl’s ankles and slips them between his fingers. “These are the jesses. Normally they would tie onto a strip attached to the gauntlet, like a leash, but Hooter ain’t going anywhere, so I just hold the jesses lightly. Otherwise it attaches to the perch over here.”