Love and Mistletoe (8 page)

Brian and Sharon gawped after the police sergeant hauling the by-now-limpid older officer out of the building.

“Johnny?” Sharon drew the name out, overemphasizing each syllable. “Seán’s name is Johnny?”

“News to me.” Brian squinted into the distance, thoughts tumbling through his mind. “I’m wondering how he knows O’Shaughnessy. Usually, the old fella rolls in for the Christmas party. Seán didn’t start working here until February of this year.”

“Hunh.” Sharon gave a facial shrug. “Well, never mind about them. Why don’t you and I skedaddle? The punch is crap, and I’m in the mood for one of your killer cocktails. Plus,” she ran a hand down the satin shirt of his glam rock vampire costume, “I want to see what your fangs can do.”

He dropped a dramatic kiss on her wrist, relishing the feel of her pulse quickening under his lips. “Your wish is my command.”

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS PASSED IN A BLUR. Between work, university, and Brian, Sharon succeeded in avoiding the farm—and her father—as much as possible. A few people in Ballybeg still threw her and Brian quizzical looks, but for the most part, they were left in peace.

On the Wednesday before the Christmas bazaar, Sharon was on a high after sitting the last exam of the semester. She and Brian had handed in their joint research paper on Monday, and she had a giddy feeling they’d nailed it.

Naomi was sitting at one of the tables in the small café in the Book Mark, sipping a cappuccino while Bridie and Sharon gift-wrapped a mountain of books.

She and Naomi had practiced making their wares and had a nice stockpile of divine-smelling bath products to sell on Saturday.

“I still can’t believe you’re going out with Brian Glenn.” Naomi shook her head in wonder, making her beads jangle. “It’s been, what, six weeks? That must be a record for you.”

“More like nine.” Sharon added a red bow to the book she was wrapping and reached for the scissors. “He’s a man, I’m a woman. We like each other. End of story.”
More than liked.
She was in serious danger of falling in love with Brian Glenn. Assuming she wasn’t already…

“Because he’s a cop and you’re…” Naomi trailed off, meeting Sharon’s hard stare.

“A MacCarthy?” Sharon ripped the edge of the scissors against the ribbon to make it curl. “Oh, for feck’s sake. Ruairí’s a MacCarthy too, and no one ever assumes he’s up to anything dodgy. I’m sick of people judging me because my father’s an arse and my eldest brother is in prison. It’s not fair. The rest of us aren’t in trouble with the police.”

“Not anymore, you mean,” Naomi added with a grin, making Bridie snort with laughter.

“Fine.” Sharon threw her arms up in a gesture of admission. “So I haven’t always taken the law very seriously. But I’m older now and wiser and more aware of the consequences.”

“Careful you don’t turn into a paragon of virtue,” Bridie said with a chuckle. “We wouldn’t recognize you.”

“I don’t think I want to be friends with a paragon of anything,” Naomi added with a shudder.

Sharon gave a bark of laughter. “I don’t think there’s
any
danger of that.”

Her friend drained her cup and brought it to the counter. “What’s the Batcave like?” she asked. “You were always keen to get a look inside.”

“It’s nice. He’s into colorful deco and comfy furniture. I wasn’t expecting that. I was sure he’d go for the minimalist look.”

“I can’t see you living in a minimalist environment,” Naomi said slyly.

“Hey, Nomes. Don’t jump the gun. We’ve only started going out. I’m not planning to move in with him yet.”

“Ah, just wait. I predict a proposal under the mistletoe.”

“Don’t be daft. I don’t want to get married at my age, and Brian’s only twenty-five.”

“Well, a kiss, then,” Naomi amended. “At least one of us will see some action under the mistletoe this festive season… unless Bridie’s planning to ambush the Major at the Christmas bazaar.”

“I don’t need to ambush him,” Bridie said primly, “because I already have. I told him I was making an honest man out of him this New Year, and Major Johnson had the good sense to agree.”

“What?” Sharon clapped in delight and let out a whoop. “You’re marrying the Major? That’s wonderful news.”

An amused smirk lurked on Bridie’s lips. “He and Jasper need looking after. I figure I’m the woman for the job.”

“Jasper?” Naomi glanced at Sharon for guidance.

“The Major’s Cavalier King Charles spaniel.” Sharon stepped forward and gave her boss a hug. “I’m thrilled for you, Bridie. Congratulations.”

“You’re both invited to the reception, of course,” her boss said. “New Year’s Eve at Clonmore Castle Hotel. Olivia is marrying Jonas on the same day, so we thought we’d make it a double celebration.”

“I’ll definitely be there.” Sharon whipped a bottle of champagne out of the small fridge beneath the counter. “I think this calls for a toast. Just as well I picked up a bottle of bubbly on my way home from Cork.”

“Don’t you want to save that to have with Brian?” Bridie asked.

“He’ll understand, especially when I tell him the occasion.”

Bridie gave a sly smirk. “I’m assuming he’ll be your plus-one to the wedding.”

“I certainly hope so.” Sharon poured the dancing liquid into teacups and handed them to the other women.

“Classy,” said Naomi with a grin.

“Hey, I have a reputation to live down to. I can’t let a soon-to-be university degree and a steady boyfriend totally cramp my style.” She raised her cup. “
Sláinte
, ladies. Here’s to new relationships and new beginnings.”

“Have you no decent man on the horizon?” Bridie asked Naomi as she stacked the beautifully wrapped Christmas gift packages on a display table.

“No man at all, decent or otherwise.” Naomi wrinkled her nose. “Men either find me exotic—how I loathe that description—or they don’t want to go out with a black girl.”

“Idiots,” Bridie said. “All of them. You put us pale white women to shame with your gorgeous skin tone.”

“Plus no one in Ireland can tell the difference between black and mixed race. If you have any bit of
different
in you, that’s the part people focus on.”

“Don’t mind them, Nomes.” Sharon reached across to give her a hug. “You need a man with discernment. Unfortunately they’re few and far between—especially in Ballybeg. I think Bridie and I nabbed the only two.”

“Right, girls. I’m off to the hairdresser.” Bridie drained her cup of bubbly and retrieved her handbag from under the counter. “You’ll be all right to close up on your own, Sharon?”

“No problem.” Sharon grinned at her employer. “What color are you going for this time?”

“I’m thinking of a red rinse for the festive season,” Bridie said expansively. “Gavin and Fiona are bringing Wiggly Poo round for Christmas dinner. After last year’s fiasco, I don’t want to risk getting a tree, so I figured I’d better decorate myself.”

Sharon was still laughing when her boss left the shop. “Okay,” she said, turning to her friend. “What’s up with you today, Naomi? You’ve been hovering for the past thirty minutes as if you want to talk to me about something.”

Her friend grimaced. “You don’t miss a trick.”

“Nope. And if you want a chat, now’s your chance. A customer could arrive at any moment.”

“Right.” Naomi hesitated and drew in a deep breath. “It’s about us renting the flat upstairs.”

“Yeah?” A sense of foreboding made Sharon’s stomach churn.

“My sister keeps saying she can pull a few strings and get me a job at her company in Dublin.”

Sharon blinked, then released an internal sigh. “And you want to take her up on the offer. If you have any sense, you will.”

“I promised you we’d get a flat together.” Naomi fiddled with one of her dangly earrings. “I don’t want to let you down.”

“So that’s why you’ve been in an odd mood lately.” Sharon moved forward to touch her friend’s arm. “Seriously, Naomi. Do you really think I’d hold you back from the chance of a fresh start?”

“No, that’s just it.” Naomi bit her lip. “I knew you’d encourage me to take her up on the offer. If I do, where does that leave you? You can’t afford to rent the flat upstairs on your own, and I don’t want you taking on extra hours in your final year in an effort to escape your father.”

“I’m a survivor. Always have been. Yeah, I’d like to leave the farm and my father’s odious presence, but that’s my problem, not yours. I can always ask Brian if I can study at his place more often. I’m there a couple of days a week as it is.”

All this was true. It didn’t mitigate the disappointment that was deflating her mood. She’d let herself believe the flat upstairs was a done deal. How would Brian react if she started spending even more time at his house? And she didn’t want to take advantage of him by overstaying her welcome at his house. She took a deep breath and turned to her friend. “Call Jill today and tell her you’ll take that job. It’ll do you good to get out of Ballybeg.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. What kind of friend would hold you back from an opportunity this good?”

“You’re the best.” Naomi gave her a hug. “Promise you’ll visit me in the Big Smoke?”

“I’ll visit so often you’ll be sick of the sight of me.” Sharon plastered a smile on her face, determined to stem the gnawing doubts and worries that were threatening to derail her day.

ON THE DAY OF THE CHRISTMAS BAZAAR, Brian strolled into Ballybeg’s town hall wearing a heavy overcoat and a huge grin. Although the temperature had plummeted over the past few days, nothing could chill his good mood.

He spotted Sharon and Naomi’s stand over in a corner by an enormous Christmas tree and made a beeline for it.

Sharon was bagging an array of colored bath products for a customer. Her green pullover was snug-fitting and traffic light bright. His gaze trailed down her curves to the studded leather platform heels. The sight made him chuckle. She had the zaniest taste in clothes, but she could pull off even the most outlandish of outfits.

She glanced up at his approach, and a wide smile suffused her face. “Well, hey, you! Come to make sure there’s no illegal substances lurking in the bath salts?”

He rounded the stand and kissed her on the lips. “Shockingly, no. I have news. I went by the psychology department’s notice board this morning.”

She sucked in a breath, and her skin turned chalky white. “And?”

“And… our research project was the best in the class.”

She whooped with delight. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. We got first class honors.”

She slumped against his chest, laughing. “I’ve never done this well on any test or paper before. It must be your influence.”

“I think it bodes well for the rest of your grades this semester. You’ve worked really hard.”

Crazy though it might sound, he was even happier for her sake than he was for his own. She’d put so much work into the project, and she tended to doubt herself when it came to her academic ability. With a bit of luck, this success would boost her confidence.

He tugged her ponytail playfully. “I’d love to drag you away from here right now and celebrate.”

“I can’t abandon the stand. We’re selling gangbusters here, aren’t we, Nomes?”

Naomi was flicking through the cash box, doing a quick count. “We’ve already doubled what we spent on ingredients. I have to hand it to you, Sharon. You were right.”

Brian slipped his hand around Sharon’s. “Much as I’d love to hang here with you, I’d better do the rounds. I’m not officially on duty today, but I promised Seán I’d stop by to see if he needed help.”

“Aren’t you going to drag your girlfriend under the mistletoe?” Naomi demanded, pointing toward the huge boughs suspended over the entrance.

“No dragging required,” Sharon said, teasing his stubble. “I’d be a willing participant.”

“Then I’ll make sure to maneuver you under those boughs later.” And he’d do so with pleasure. These past couple of months had been the best in his life. He walked with a new spring to his step, and a smile was never far from his lips.

He dropped a final kiss on her cheek and sauntered off in the direction of the punch stand, where Seán was chatting to one of the town councilors. He waved when he spotted Brian.

“How’s it going?” Brian asked.

“Pretty quiet so far.” Seán frowned. “I have a feeling John-Joe Fitzgerald and Buck MacCarthy are up to some sort of mischief. They’re acting shifty.”

“Isn’t acting shifty their usual modus operandi?”

“Yeah, but I could have sworn I saw Pat Dolan slip John-Joe a fifty earlier.”

Brian shrugged. “No crime in giving someone money.”

“No. However, I doubt Dolan was giving him a Christmas present. That pair are up to something. I just can’t put my finger on what.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them over Christmas. They’re always in and out of Buck’s garden shed. I’ve no idea what they’re up to in there, and I can hardly go barging in without a warrant.”

Seán grimaced. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Do you need me to patrol the building?”

“Ah, no. Unless John-Joe and Buck cause a riot, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“In that case, I’ll take some punch over to Sharon and Naomi.”

He strode back across the hall, reaching the bath product stand at the same instant that Colm MacCarthy burst into the building.

***

Da scanned the crowd—eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. Sharon’s stomach lodged in her throat.
Ah, feck.
Had he discovered she was seeing Brian? While she hadn’t made a secret of their relationship, she hadn’t gone out of her way to inform her father. It wasn’t like they communicated, for heaven’s sake. Whenever she had the misfortune to run into him at the house, he demanded clean laundry and farm chores. She had no problem with the latter. She also had no issue with contributing to household bills. Doing his laundry was another matter.

Her father marched over to the stand. “What’s this I hear about you going out with that cop?”

She’d known full well that his reaction to the news his daughter was dating a policeman would be ferocious, but she hadn’t expected him to freak out during the bazaar. Talk about bad timing. Behind Colm’s greasy gray head, potential customers were retracing their steps, and Naomi had retreated to the far end of their stand.