The Mighty Quinns: Riley Read Free

Ireland.”
    Nan’s heart fluttered. They were close enough to kiss. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. His gaze shifted and suddenly, she felt as if he could read her thoughts. Embarrassed, Nan pulled out of his embrace, straightening her jacket and trying to remain calm.
    Though there’d been men in her life, she’d never felt such an immediate and intense reaction to any ofthem. But then, most of the men she dated didn’t look like this one—drop-dead gorgeous. “Thank you,” she said, forcing a smile.
    â€œâ€™Twas nothing any other Irishman wouldn’t do for a beautiful lady,” he teased, his brogue more exaggerated.
    Nan glanced nervously down the line of cabs. Had he just called her beautiful? She’d always prided herself in an absolute objective assessment of her strengths and weaknesses, and beautiful was not a term she usually applied to her appearance. He was beautiful. She was ordinary.
    â€œAre you looking to hire a cab?” he asked.
    â€œDo you have a cab?” Maybe now that they’d struck up a conversation of sorts, he’d agree to take her to Ballykirk. “Is that taxi yours?” she said, pointing to a cab idling at the curb.
    â€œNo. The bloke who drives it just went inside to use the loo. I’m watching it for him, in exchange for that cig you made me toss.” He paused. “Are you looking for a ride?”
    Nan nodded. “Someone was supposed to meet me here, but I think he may have left. My plane was late.”
    â€œHusband?”
    â€œNo,” Nan said.
    â€œFiancé?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œBoyfriend, then.”
    â€œNo, just a ride.”
    â€œWell, then, my day has just taken a turn for the better. I’d be happy to give you a ride. I was supposedto pick up some old lady and drive her to Ballykirk, but she never showed.”
    Nan gasped. “That’s where I want to go! What a coinci—” She stopped, then regarded him suspiciously. “Are you Riley Quinn?”
    The grin faded and he raked his hand through his hair. “Oh, shite,” he muttered. “I’ve stuck my foot in it now. You’d be Nan Galvin?”
    â€œI would be her,” Nan said. He assumed she was an old woman? What had she ever said or done that had given him that impression? “You were supposed to wait at baggage claim with a sign.”
    He held out his hands and shrugged. “I figured I’d recognize you when you came out. But you’re not old. I expected some lady with white hair and spectacles and sensible shoes.”
    â€œWhy, because I’m a librarian? That’s just silly stereotyping and I—”
    â€œNo,” he interrupted. “Well, partly. But there were…clues. You sounded old.”
    â€œWe’ve never spoken. We’ve only emailed. How could you possibly guess my age from a few emails?”
    â€œI don’t know. You write old. And you just seemed so…”
    â€œSo what?”
    â€œSo…prissy. Not in a bad way, mind you. Your spelling was perfect and your emails were so organized and precise.”
    â€œThey were not!” In truth, they probably were. Nan prided herself on proper grammar and spelling. It wasa professional responsibility that spilled into her personal life.
    â€œYou requested that I provide a premium brand of toilet tissue. And that the house be clean of all insects, spiders and bugs, living and dead. I’d call that finicky. Besides, you said you’d wanted to visit the land of your ancestors before you died, so I put two and two together and came up with…well, definitely not you.”
    Nan held fast to her temper. It wouldn’t do to make this man angry now. He was her only mode of transportation. “You did say you’d meet me at baggage claim. And you weren’t there. That’s all I’m saying.”
    â€œI got tired of waiting. I’ve been standing