January Girl (Wilder Irish Book 1) Read online

  January Girl

  Wilder Irish, book 1

  Mari Carr

  Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Other books in the Wild Irish series

  About the Author

  Other books by Mari Carr

  This book is dedicated to Lexi Blake, who very kindly sat me down in a bar one night and said, “You know, it’s time for a next generation Wild Irish.”

  And that was all she wrote…

  Prologue

  “Tell me the story again, Pop Pop. The one about my name.”

  Patrick smiled at the dark-haired child, his beloved granddaughter. “Och. You’ve heard that story a thousand times, my sweet. Wouldn’t you rather hear me sing?”

  The little girl giggled and shook her head emphatically. It had become a running joke between Patrick and Caitlyn that she considered his singing voice very poor.

  “Are you sure?” he teased. “You don’t want to hear my Irish Lullaby?” He started to sing, only getting as far as “Too-ra-loo,” when she covered her ears.

  “No. The story. The story! About me.”

  Patrick’s daughter, Keira, had given him the what-for the first time he’d told Caitlyn the old folktale, insisting that it was a bit too heavy for a four-year-old. Regardless, Caitlyn loved the tale and had since asked to hear it countless times.

  “Fine, fine. But first, let’s get you under the covers.”

  He was babysitting his young grandchildren while Keira and Will went out for the evening. They’d had a rare chance for a date night, something that didn’t come along often now that they had two wee ones at home.

  Caitlyn’s baby brother, Lochlan, was already fast asleep in his crib, and given the sleepy look in her eyes, Caitlyn wouldn’t last much longer either.

  Caitlyn snuggled beneath her Beauty and the Beast comforter, the beautiful princess in a bright yellow dress dancing in the arms of the beast. Earlier in the evening, Patrick had spun Caitlyn around in the same manner as she insisted he play the beast.

  Apart from the muted glow coming from the bedside lamp, the only other light in the room was produced from the small aquarium on top of Caitlyn’s dresser. A bright blue fish swam around the tiny tank. It wasn’t unusual for a child growing up in Baltimore to become enamored of fish, considering the fine aquarium the city held.

  “Well, as you know,” Patrick began, “your name is actually a nickname for Cathleen, and oh, wasn’t she a bonny woman in this story? There came such a time that two evil men appeared in Ireland. They were on a mission from the devil.”

  Caitlyn’s eyes grew wide at this point in the story, as they always did. The young girl was a sucker for a scary story. “The devil is bad.”

  “Indeed he is. And at the time, there was a famine. What did I tell you a famine was?”

  “Everybody was hungry because there wasn’t any macaroni and cheese. Or chicken nuggets.”

  Patrick nodded and grinned. She was a bright little thing, who couldn’t conceive of a world that didn’t contain Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Patrick couldn’t fault her terror of such an occurrence. Though his daughter Riley—whose homemade mac and cheese could win awards—would have a fit if he confessed it, he was fond of the bright orange box stuff himself.

  “I feel bad for the hungry little kids in that town. Their tummies must’ve hurt.”

  Patrick didn’t doubt for a moment his tiny Cait was destined to do great things. In addition to her intelligence, she had compassion in spades. “That’s right. They were very hungry and they wished they could have some of that macaroni and cheese you gobbled up for your supper.”

  “Gobble. Gobble.” Caitlyn mimicked a turkey and giggled, as he continued the tale.

  “So the devil sent these two bad men to make a deal with the hungry Irish. They could trade their souls in exchange for gold.”

  “And then they’d be rich and they could eat all the Happy Meals they wanted,” she added.

  “That’s right. But was that a good thing for the poor people to do?”

  She shook her head earnestly. “No. It’s bad to give your soul to the devil because he’s a big meanie.”

  “That’s right.” Patrick had brushed over some of the finer details of the story, but he suspected as Caitlyn got older, she’d eventually start asking questions about the tale, seeking a deeper understanding of it all. For now, she was happy to know there were bad guys and…

  “But did Cathleen sell her soul to the devil?”

  Caitlyn shouted out an excited, “No! Because she was good.”

  “And very smart,” Patrick added.

  Caitlyn loved the idea that she was the heroine in the story. The one destined to save everyone. “Say what she did,” she urged.

  “When Cathleen realized what the hungry people were doing, she went to the bad men and said she would give them her soul in exchange for those of the whole town.”

  “Because the devil wanted her soul the most. On account of her being the best. She saved them all.”

  Patrick nodded. “That’s right. She did. And because her actions were so brave, so selfless, she was rewarded.”

  “The devil didn’t get her soul because God swooped down and grabbed it and he took her to heaven and she got to sit on the clouds with the angels and eat chocolate cake and ice cream all the time.”

  Patrick chuckled at how much Caitlyn embellished the tale with each retelling. The last time, the courageous Cathleen had gotten to sing and dance and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, so clearly heaven changed according to whatever Caitlyn fancied at the time.

  “That’s right,” he confirmed. “She saved all the hungry Irish and was rewarded. With cake and ice cream.”

  Caitlyn’s body relaxed as they came to the end of the story. Patrick rose from his perch on the side of her bed, bending down to kiss her forehead.

  “Pop Pop,” she said, her voice going thick with the sleep that was coming to claim her quickly.

  “Yes, my little Caitie-bug?”

  “One day I’m going to save the poor Irish, and when I do, I’ll share my cake and ice cream with them so they aren’t hungry.”

  Patrick ran the backs of his fingers along her soft cheek. “Ah, lass. I know you will. Because you’re smart and brave and kind.”

  He gave her another kiss on the brow, turned on her starfish nightlight near the door and left the room, silently praying to live a long life. He was looking forward to watching his fierce granddaughter save the Irish.

  1

  “Jesus. What’s he doing in here?”

  Caitlyn Wallace looked around the pub, searching for someone who could have caught her cousin Colm’s eye.

  Seeing no one of interest, she turned her gaze back to Colm. “He who?”

  “Lucas Whiting.”

  While Caitlyn didn’t have a clue what Lucas Whiting looked like, she sure as hell knew his name. The Whitings were to Baltimore what the Kennedys were to Martha’s Vineyard. There was precious little property of value in the city that the Whitings didn’t have some vested interest in.

  “He’s here?”

  Colm nodded, and then used the upswing of his chin to direct her attention to a table near the back of the pub. Three men in expensive power suits sat together, drinking pints of Guinness. She assumed the one in
the center was Lucas. He was older than the other two, with gray hair, serious eyes and deep frown grooves around his mouth that told her he didn’t smile much. If ever.

  “Looks the type of a gazillionaire, doesn’t he?” she said.

  Colm turned his head, his look quizzical. “You think? I always thought he looked more like a rugby player.”

  Caitlyn turned back to the table. Clearly she’d focused on the wrong man. Once she’d spotted the older guy, she’d stopped looking. “Which one is he?”

  “Man on the right,” Colm replied before walking toward the bar. He claimed a stool and started talking to his dad, Caitlyn’s Uncle Tris, who was manning the bar.

  Rather than join him, Caitlyn remained near the entrance, so she could check out the man on the right.

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  Colm had the right of it. Lucas was built much larger and broader and more muscular than she would have pictured him. For some reason, she’d imagined a more elegant, sophisticated, clean-shaven, well-dressed, paper-pushing wimp. Lucas Whiting resembled a thug, with his wide shoulders and scruffy beard that was pushing the five-o’clock-shadow deal by a few days. He looked like the kind of guy who’d been in more than a few fistfights. He also struck her as the type who’d most likely won every single one.

  Originally, her gaze hadn’t landed on him for more than a split second because her mind had seen that build and thought “bodyguard.”

  “Can you believe he’s back here again?”

  Caitlyn glanced over at her cousin Ailis, who was waiting the tables at the pub that night.

  “Who?” Caitlyn wondered if she’d missed a step somewhere.

  “Lucas Whiting.”

  “He’s been here before?”

  Ailis nodded. “Yeah. About a month or so ago. He chatted with Tris and Ewan about selling the pub. They laughed and told him he was wasting his time. He left and I think we all thought that was the end of it.”

  “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  Ailis grinned as Caitlyn trailed behind her, so her cousin could deliver the drinks she’d been carrying. “I suspect you were knee-deep in a case. Besides, you’ve been in workaholic mode this past year since you and Sammy split. It’s rare to get your total attention.”

  Caitlyn didn’t bother to argue that point. It was true. Sammy had accused her of living inside her head. Tried to use that as a reason for cheating on her. The stupid asshole.

  Her gaze returned to Lucas Whiting’s table. He was no longer conversing with the men sitting with him. Instead, he was studying the bar, his sharp, dark eyes taking in everything around him.

  Caitlyn did the same, trying to imagine what Lucas was thinking. For a second, she heard the lines to that classic Billy Joel number “Piano Man” in her head. While it was a Friday night—not Saturday—the regular crowd had certainly shuffled in. The place was booming.

  Hunter Maxwell, one of their current singers, was on stage with his guitar and harmonica setup. He was super talented, and Caitlyn knew that was one reason the place was so crowded.

  Hunter was destined for stardom. She was as sure of that as she was that Hunter had it bad for Ailis. Ailis, however, seemed oblivious to that fact. Or she was ignoring it. Having grown up being homeschooled on a tour bus as Sky and Teagan rocked the world with their music for the first eighteen years of her life, Ailis was determined to live her adult years in a house without wheels. Problem was Hunter wanted the wheels, the big bus and the different-city-every-night stardom Ailis’s parents enjoyed.

  Caitlyn turned her attention away from the stage. Uncle Tris was manning the bar, talking football with Pop Pop, who sat on “his” stool at the center of the long mahogany counter, surrounded by his cronies—some nearly, but not quite, as old as him.

  Most of her friends were amazed when she told them her grandfather was ninety-two years old. He had the energy and health of someone two decades younger. He claimed it was his family that kept him going, gave him a reason to keep chugging along. Aunt Riley always said the truth of it was he was too nosy to depart this earth before he got to see how all his grandkids turned out. Which was why Riley was convinced he’d outlive them all. Caitlyn sincerely hoped that was true. She couldn’t imagine a world without Pop Pop.

  “Does Pop Pop know about the offer?” Caitlyn asked.

  Ailis shook her head. “No. Like I said, they turned it down and the guy went away. Since it was a nonissue, they decided not to bother Pop Pop with it.”

  “Good. I’d hate for him to worry about this. Although, it doesn’t look like it’s a nonissue anymore.”

  “I know. Riley said he’d be back. After all, the Whitings have been snatching up quite a bit of property in this area. Ewan seemed to think they’d convinced him they wouldn’t sell, for any price, but now…”

  Given the dark, threatening looks Tris was throwing Lucas’s way, it was obvious her uncle was on the defensive, ready to defend the bar to the death. Not that he’d have to take up that battle alone.

  She caught sight of Ewan and Riley standing just on the other side of the large opening between Pat’s Pub and Sunday’s Side, the restaurant named for Caitlyn’s grandmother, giving Lucas the same evil eye.

  One of the perks of being a member of a large family was there were never less than twenty people who had your back. Lucas Whiting would have been smart to take the original rejection and move on.

  As she considered that, she looked back toward him and discovered he was staring at her. She held his gaze for a moment, and then glanced away. It was no good. She still felt the weight of his eyes on her.

  “Do you know Lucas Whiting?” Ailis asked.

  Caitlyn shook her head as she faced her cousin. “No. Why?”

  “Because he’s staring at you. Big time.”

  Caitlyn forced herself to look back. And sure enough, Ailis was telling the truth. Whatever study he’d been doing of the pub appeared to have ended with her.

  She felt the inexplicable need to escape that heavy gaze. It unnerved her. And, well, dammit, it turned her on. She experienced an arousal she hadn’t felt in months. No, strike that. A year.

  Caitlyn worked hard to put that uneasy feeling away. It wasn’t a state she wanted to dwell on. After Sammy’s betrayal, she’d decided to take a year off from dating to recover from her broken heart and focus on her career, get her priorities straight. She had stayed with Sammy for all the wrong reasons.

  Actually, just two wrong reasons.

  The first was the same one that had existed in all her previous long-term relationships. Love. Caitlyn wanted it. Desperately. She longed for a relationship like her parents had, or any of her aunts and uncles. She wanted to come home every night to the one person who made life worth living.

  And she wanted that so badly, she’d tried to force Sammy into that role, tried to convince herself that what they shared was a great and lasting love. Just like she had with Matt and Brad and…

  Every single time one of her relationships failed, she was forced to face the fact that she’d fallen for the wrong man again. One who didn’t love her as much as she loved him or who wasn’t as committed toward building a life with her.

  The other reason she’d hung in there too long with Sammy was at least unique from her other relationships. The sex. It had been great. So much so, she’d tricked herself into believing that the rest of their relationship was fine. When it wasn’t. She had that truth knocked into her when she’d come home early and found him boinking the middle school music teacher who lived across the hall.

  Caitlyn had packed her bags and moved into the apartment above her family’s business, Pat’s Pub, where she shared the spacious space with six of her ten cousins. Riley had taken to referring to the second floor as the Collins Dorm after several of the cousins moved in, and the name stuck.

  She tried to stifle a yawn. Her family was going to have to deal with Lucas Whiting on their own. It had been a damn long day. “I’m beat. Think I’ll go upstairs
and relax for a little while.”

  After law school, she’d opted to work in the public sector as opposed to pursuing a job with a big firm. She’d started as an attorney with Baltimore Legal Aid, a nonprofit firm that provided free legal services to low-income people, working her ass off for very little pay, while gaining experience.

  Then, once her cousin Colm graduated from law school too, they opened their own practice, the Collins Law Firm. While it was Colm’s last name as well, the name of the firm was actually a nod to their beloved Pop Pop, who was so proud of them with their “big, fancy law degrees,” as he referred to them, that he fairly burst from the emotion.

  For the past five years, she and Colm had worked long hours in an attempt to build a name for their firm. Caitlyn specialized in services for seniors, serving on a local committee that worked to keep older citizens not only in their homes, but to ensure they were living in safe environments. Colm’s specialty was in family and children’s services.

  Their firm had acquired a reputation for wheeling and dealing on payment. Which basically meant they only charged what their clients could afford to pay. Her mom, Keira, claimed she and Colm reminded her of old-school doctors, trading their services for eggs or a fat hog. Caitlyn had always laughed at that description—until a couple months earlier, when Colm had literally accepted freshly caught trout and a bottle of homemade moonshine as a payment. Then she realized things had gotten out of hand. Not that they’d change their policy. They had just as many clients who could afford to pay as those who couldn’t, so it wasn’t like they were starving. Besides, poor people deserved good legal help as much as the rich.

  “Are you going to come back down later?” Ailis asked.

  Caitlyn shrugged. Ailis was worried about her. Actually, the whole Collins clan was. Her entire family had managed to pull her aside at some point over the past few months to talk to her about her all-work, no-play lifestyle and how it wasn’t healthy. They weren’t telling her anything she didn’t know, but she was finding it too hard to break the pattern.