Love and Blarney Read Free Page A

trickle down his spine. If he didn’t take Jayme to see his mother before she got wind of his marriage from Marcella, there’d be hell to pay. Having spent the last year trying to rebuild their fragile relationship, he didn’t want to lose the connection with his mother. He’d lose her soon enough. Shutting his eyes, he shoved the macabre notion to the recesses of his mind. Then he looked straight at the beautiful woman he’d married. She stood ramrod straight, tension oozing from every elegant pore.
    “Fine,” he said on a sharp exhale. “If you want to meet the rest of my family, let’s go. But trust me, if you weren’t running to divorce me beforehand, you will be after.”

    Jayme clung to her seatbelt while Ruairí’s SUV sloshed through the flooded streets of Ballybeg. The brief glimpse she’d had of the town since her arrival was seen through a haze of mist and rain. Despite the deluge, the bright colors of the buildings contrasted cheerfully with the relentless gray sky.
    In other circumstances, she’d have relished a trip to Ireland. One of her great-grandmothers hailed from Donegal, and she’d always had a hankering to visit. Ruairí’s reluctance to vacation in his native country had been a disappointment. She’d attributed it to his lack of family. Boy, had she been wrong on that score. She stole a glance at his profile, hard and handsome. “Surely your mom can’t be that bad.”
    He grimaced. “She’s bossy, but she’s mild-tempered in comparison to my father. Be glad he’s gone out.” He swerved to avoid a pothole. “
Feck.
”
    The rain had increased in the short time Jayme had spent in the pub. The streets of Ballybeg were a few inches deep in water, and the situation was worse once they exited the town proper.
    “Gosh,” she said, peering through the window, “the flooding is worse than when I drove through an hour ago.”
    “You drove?” His head swiveled toward the passenger seat. “You remembered to ask for an automatic, right?”
    “There was no ‘remember’ about it,” she replied tartly. “How was I to know a standard transmission is the norm in Ireland?”
    His laughter reverberated off the worn leather seats. “You mean to tell me that you drove a car with gears from Shannon to Ballybeg?”
    She folded her arms across her chest and attempted to strike a dignified pose. “Laugh all you want, MacCarthy. I made it, didn’t I?”
    “So you did. Well done to you.” His grin was wide. “I’m more used to seeing you hailing a cab than behind a wheel.”
    “Frankly, I prefer it that way. The drive was terrifying. Are all Irish roads in lousy condition?”
    He laughed. “Many. The roads around Ballybeg were never great. Since the Irish economy collapsed a few years ago, they’ve been left to go to rack and ruin.”
    When a car driving on the other side of the road veered into their lane before swerving at the last second, her heart leaped in her chest. “How far is your family’s farm?”
    “A twenty-minute drive from the town, but it will take us longer in this weather.”
    “Do you live with them or in Ballybeg? The only address I have for you is the pub.”
    “I live over the pub. The rooms on the second floor are divided into two apartments. One is mine and the other is Marcella’s.”
    They lapsed into a silence taut with tension. This stranger in jeans and a checked shirt was her husband? Where was the stiff and proper stockbroker she’d married three years ago? Had he ever existed? Had it been a carefully calculated act? The man she’d known would never have been content to run a small bar in Ireland. What had happened to make him do a one-eighty?
    “I know very little about you, and you know everything about me.” Okay, maybe not
everything
.
    He glanced at her sideways before returning his attention to the road. “I didn’t lie to you, Jayme. I omitted a few facts.”
    “A few facts? I’d say you left a lot of stuff out.” Anger, confusion,