Wild Irish Christmas-Wild 8 Page 3

  Sunday frowned. “Oh.” For a brief moment, Patrick thought she seemed disappointed. She hadn’t wanted him to ask her, had she? Compared to Conall, what did he have to offer a woman as beautiful and intelligent as Sunday MacKenna? Certainly not an Aston Martin.

  Looking at the two of them together, he realized he’d been a fool to think he had a chance. She was made for someone like Conall, someone handsome, wealthy, someone who wasn’t living on dreams, but living the dream.

  Even so…

  “Sunday, I—” Patrick started, trying to find a way out of the mess he’d made.

  Sunday didn’t give him the chance. Instead, she turned to Conall. “I’d love to go to the dance with you.”

  Patrick felt his heart crack, but he couldn’t think of a way to turn the tide to his favor. He wasn’t even sure he should make the attempt. Sunday was one of the most talented singers Patrick had ever heard. A man like Conall had connections. Conall could open doors for her career that Patrick couldn’t. Didn’t he owe it to her to step aside so she could pursue her dreams?

  “Come on, Sunday. I’ll get you home.” Conall took her hand and led her to the front door.

  Patrick watched his nemesis walk out of the pub with the woman who owned his heart—and prayed for the strength to truly let her go.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Oh Pop. You didn’t?” Keira shook her head, obviously exasperated with the turn his story had taken.

  “Didn’t let her walk out with Conall?” Patrick shrugged. “I’m afraid I did.”

  Riley rolled her eyes. “Criminy. And here I’ve spent my whole life thinking you were the smartest man I’ve ever known.”

  Sean looked at his sister, confused. “What the hell did you expect him to do, Riley? It was obvious Mom had her head turned by this rich, good-looking guy.”

  Tris and Killian nodded in agreement.

  Riley threw her hands up. “Can you guys really be that stupid?”

  “I agree with Riley,” Teagan said. “Isn’t it obvious? She was testing Pop.”

  “Testing him?” Ewan asked. “By accepting a date with the rich dude? Kind of a dumb test.”

  Keira sighed. “Like father, like sons, apparently. Mom was obviously crazy about Pop, but he wasn’t making a move. So—”

  “So,” Riley interjected, “she forced his hand. And he failed the test.”

  Patrick nodded, never so proud of his beautiful, intelligent girls as he was at the moment. “I did at that.”

  “She was trying to make you jealous?” Tris asked.

  Patrick grinned. “Yes, she was. And it worked.”

  Tris shook his head. “I’ll never understand why women feel the need to play games all the time. If she wanted to go to the dance with you, why didn’t she just ask?”

  Keira narrowed her eyes. “How was she supposed to know Pop was interested? I mean, he’d walked her home every night for months and hadn’t even tried to kiss her. He’d never asked her out. Obviously she was feeling him out. Trying to figure out where she stood. And believe me, Pop telling her that he was inviting another woman to the dance was not the way.”

  “I’m afraid your sisters are right, but I’d dug my own grave, so to speak. I asked Kathleen to the dance the next morning and suffered your mother’s silent treatment every evening for the next five nights. Conall became a regular at the pub, sitting at the table closest to the stage. Your mother sat with him during her breaks instead of at the bar as she had before. Conall showered her with little gifts, making a point of presenting her with flowers, chocolates and jewelry in front of all the patrons of the pub. In a few short days, the town gossips were all abuzz about their whirlwind romance and everyone was wondering if Conall would invite her to travel to New York with him. Some of the more romantic ladies in town were hoping he would propose to her at the dance.”

  “Propose?” Teagan became alarmed. “She can’t marry him. Christ! Who gets married after only a week?”

  Killian laughed. “Don’t worry, Teagan. I think this story has a happy ending.”

  Teagan flushed. “Oh. Yeah.” She shook her head. “Got carried away there.”

  “Go on, Pop,” Sean encouraged him. “What happened next?”

  “And please tell me there’s an ass-kicking somewhere in this story,” Riley added.

  Patrick gave her a noncommittal wink. “I guess you’ll have to wait to find out. Pass that bottle back around, son.” He gestured to Tris. “All this story-telling is leaving me parched.” He chuckled as Tris, Teagan, Sean and Keira all took sips as the bottle made its way back to him. The fruit certainly didn’t fall far from his tree.

  “So the night before the dance, Conall didn’t show up at the pub…”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” Patrick asked Sunday when she approached the bar. She’d asked him for a glass of water—her first words to him in days. He’d been grateful to hear her voice. Then he’d blown it with his hostile question.

  “He had to attend a family dinner. He wanted me to go with him, but I didn’t feel right canceling at the last minute. I know Scully is enjoying the increased business with so many relatives and friends in town for the holidays. Why does it matter to you?”

  He pasted on an impassive face. “It doesn’t. Just surprised one of you could be in a room without the other. Started to suspect you’d become permanently attached at the hip.”

  Sunday narrowed her eyes. “If you have something to say about my relationship with Conall, Patrick Collins, then say it. Otherwise, I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my business.”

  Patrick felt his temper snap. He’d been feeling like shit for days, trying to be the bigger man, stepping aside because he believed Conall could offer her a better life. That didn’t mean he was a robot. It didn’t mean he wanted her throwing her fancy presents and newfound happiness in his face every minute of the day. “I think the two of you are moving too fast.”

  Every night when he closed his eyes, he imagined Conall kissing Sunday, wrapping his arms around her. The vision drove Patrick to madness until he gave up hope of sleeping. He hadn’t managed more than a few hours of rest a night. He was tired as shit and cranky as hell.

  “I don’t know about that. I seem to recall you telling me on one of our late-night walks that you believed in love at first sight. Have you changed your mind?”

  He hadn’t. He’d loved her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. However, her question sent a barb straight to his heart. “Are you saying you’re in love with Conall?”

  She didn’t reply. Instead she countered with a question of her own. “So how long have you been seeing Kathleen Murphy? I had no idea the two of you were an item.”

  Patrick considered her question and the heated tone behind it. “I don’t remember saying we were dating. Just said I was asking her to the dance.”

  “Why?”

  He tilted his head, confused. “Why what?”

  “Why are you taking her to the dance?”

  He licked his lips nervously, his mind racing to find a reason. He’d let his pride get the better of him, as it always did whenever Conall was around. “She’s a pretty enough little thing. We’ve known each other forever. Her family owns the farm next to mine. Why shouldn’t I ask her out?”

  Sunday fell silent and he thought he detected the slightest trace of hurt in her eyes. “You think she’s pretty?”

  He nodded slowly before the truth fell from his lips. “She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

  Sunday smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Conall‘s father has some connections in New York. He knows some bigwigs in the music business.”

  Patrick swallowed heavily. “Is that right?”

  “Conall’s been dropping hints that he’d like me to go with him to New York. Do you think I should consider it? The two of you have been friends forever, right?”

  Calling them friends was a definite stretch. “I’ve known him since we were kids. So wo
uld you travel with him as a friend…or as more?”

  Sunday shrugged. “He’s let me know he’s interested in me romantically. I’m sure if I agreed to go it would be with the understanding that we’re a couple. What do you think of him?”

  Patrick looked at her and considered all his reasons for stepping aside. “He’s quite well off. You’ll never want for anything if you eventually marry him. A woman like you deserves pretty things, a nice home, the security a man like him can provide.”

  She nodded. “My own home would be nice.”

  He cleared his throat and forced himself to continue. “And he’s educated, got a college degree and everything. Chances are good he’ll go far with that new career of his.”

  “It does sound like a promising job.”

  “And it’s in New York,” he added. “You’ve dreamed of moving to America. Conall could take you there right away.”

  She toyed with the condensation on her water glass. “I’ve heard a lot about the city. I’d like to see it.”

  Patrick picked up a rag and absentmindedly wiped at a nonexistent stain on the counter. Now that he’d begun, he found all the excuses he’d thought of throughout the past week falling from his lips. “Of course, you’d be able to pursue your music.”

  She continued to look at her glass. Patrick wished she’d look at him, give him some glimpse of her thoughts. “Yes, there is my music to consider.”

  She was starting to sound like a parrot, repeating everything he said. It was frustrating. “He can give you a lot, Sunday. You deserve the world on a silver platter.” He wished he could offer her just that. Instead, he faced a lifetime of hard work, possibly struggling to make ends meet. How could he ask her to follow him into an uncertain future when Conall’s tomorrows looked so bright, so easy?

  Her gaze finally captured his. For several moments, she simply looked at him. “What do you think of him, Pat?”

  She was pushing him into a corner, forcing him to make a hard decision. Did he lie about his opinion of Conall’s character or tell her what he really thought of the man?

  He’d watched Conall with Sunday this past week. Patrick was hard-pressed to find fault with the man’s treatment of her. He’d been courteous and attentive, a gentleman in every sense of the word. Patrick had tried to fool himself into believing that Conall’s interest in Sunday was based merely on some stupid youthful competitiveness. After watching them all week, Patrick had to admit he no longer believed that was true. Conall genuinely wanted her.

  And why not?

  She was everything Patrick had ever dreamed of. It only stood to reason Conall would see the same things.

  Patrick held her gaze, and then spoke the hardest words he’d ever uttered in his life. “I think he’ll treat you good, Sunday.”

  She didn’t respond, her expression wooden.

  Then her temper snapped.

  “I didn’t ask how he would treat me, Patrick! I asked what you thought of him. So far, you’ve managed to give me a grocery list of everything in the world except the answer to that question. So I’ll let you off the hook. But let me leave you with my own list of things that I’d like you to consider. First of all, you apparently don’t know anything about my dreams. You’ve assumed that I want to go to America to pursue music. Have I ever said that to you?”

  She hadn’t said it. Not once.

  “I want to go to America and I want a home of my own. I want to continue playing my songs, not to earn money but for the sheer enjoyment of it. I want to marry a good man and have a big family. I want love and laughter and a husband who looks at me with love in his eyes, not because he thinks I’m beautiful or would make a nice trophy for his wall, but because he thinks I’m special—and I thought that man was you.”

  Her voice broke slightly and Patrick realized the depth of this stupidity. He’d made a terrible mistake. “Sunday, please—”

  She rose from the stool. “No, I’ve listened to everything you had to say, Pat. Walked home with you hand in hand for months as you shared your beautiful dreams with me. You let me see what was in your soul and I thought you saw what was in mine. Apparently I wasn’t speaking clearly enough or maybe you didn’t believe what I was saying. Either way, it doesn’t matter now.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. Patrick felt that drop like the slice of a knife against his skin.

  She walked away, gathering her guitar and leaving the bar before he could force himself to move.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “You let her walk out?” Tris asked incredulously.

  Patrick nodded. “I’m ashamed to say I did.” He glanced over and saw Teagan surreptitiously wiping her eyes.

  Apparently Ewan noticed as well. “You okay, sis?” He wrapped his arm around Teagan’s shoulders as she grinned in embarrassment.

  “I know I’m being a sap, but this is such a sad story.”

  “Ah lass. I was a foolish young man. Before your mother, I’d never been in love. It was hard for me to imagine being worthy of such an incredible woman. I made far too many mistakes.”

  “Oh Pop.” Keira leaned forward, taking his hand in hers. “I love this story. Love hearing that you’re human, that you made mistakes along the way. Makes me feel a bit better about the stupid things I’ve done in my relationship with Will.”

  “God knows I’ve done my fair share of asinine things with Lauren and Chad.” Sean grabbed the bag of chips from the coffee table. He glanced at Riley, who smirked.

  “Don’t look at me,” Riley said. “I’ve never screwed up with Aaron.”

  Everyone laughed, Riley included. Then she conceded. “Fair enough. I’ve messed up plenty. But this story isn’t about me. It’s about Pop and Mom and Conall. I swear to God, Pop, if you don’t punch this guy in the face at some point, I’m returning your Christmas gift.”

  “Very well,” Patrick said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s time for the good part of the story.”

  Chapter Three

  “Go ask her to dance, Patty.”

  Patrick looked at Kathleen, confused. “What?”

  “You haven’t taken your eyes off Sunday MacKenna all night. Go ask the lass for a dance.”

  He flushed, guilt suffusing him. He’d invited Kathleen to the dance then proceeded to sit by the wall, glowering at Conall. “I’m sorry, Kathleen. I’ve been a poor companion tonight.”

  Kathleen laughed easily and Patrick wondered why he’d never felt the same spark for her that he experienced whenever Sunday was around. Kathleen was pretty and kind. She had a good heart and she was quick to laugh. She was also devoted to Killarney and Ireland. Patrick knew she’d never be happy anywhere else.

  “I’ve been an ass.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Actually, the word I was thinking of was fool. You’re clearly in love with the woman. It doesn’t take a genius to see she feels the same way for you. So tell me, then, why she’s here with Conall Brannagh?”

  “I handled things badly with her, Kathleen.”

  “You’ve a silver tongue in that head of yours, Patty. Something tells me you can make this right. Go talk to her.”

  Patrick appreciated Kathleen’s encouragement, but he didn’t share her optimism. As he watched her slow dance with Conall, desolation coursed through his body.

  Kathleen shook her head. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Patrick looked at her, curious at her proclamation. “What day?”

  “The day you gave up. Patrick Collins, there’s never been a day in your life you didn’t scrape and scratch and fight for what you believed in, what you wanted. You’ve worked yourself near to exhaustion to save money for your future. You studied harder than most of the lads in school because you knew you’d need that knowledge to succeed in business. Are you in love with Sunday MacKenna?”

  He nodded. “So much.”

  “Will you make her a good husband? Care for her?”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I’d give her anything, everything. But Cona
ll can give her more.”

  Kathleen rolled her eyes. “Och. Damn, you’ve got a thick skull. Did you ever consider that Sunday doesn’t want more? That you’re enough for her?”

  Sunday had said as much last night at the pub. It was that sentiment that had kept him awake, tossing and turning all night. She thought he was enough. It was a heady, wonderful feeling.

  “So what do I do now, Kath? Lead me to the answer.”

  Kathleen pointed toward the exit to the dance hall. Patrick’s stomach sunk when he watched Conall walk outside with Sunday. “You stop the girl and you tell her how you feel.”

  “What if it’s too late?”

  Kathleen shoved him firmly on the back. “You’ll never know unless you try. Even if she rejects you, you’ll be no worse off than you are now. Look at you. You’re a mess. Stay here and you have no chance. Follow her and I figure your odds are better than fifty-fifty.”

  Patrick grinned. Leave it to Kathleen to put her argument in terms he could understand. Betting was his vice.

  He wasn’t ready to concede yet. Patrick wasn’t going down without a fight. He kissed Kathleen on the cheek, murmured a quick word of thanks then rushed toward the exit. God willing, it wasn’t too late to make things right.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Did you catch her?” Riley asked.

  Killian grinned. “What do you think?”

  Riley shook her head. “Crap. I’m getting as caught up in this story as Teagan.”

  “Kathleen was a nice lady,” Ewan said.

  “She’s a lovely lass. Actually, she’s family now. She married my cousin Aidan.”

  Keira perked up “She’s that Kathleen?”

  Patrick nodded. “Yes, Keira Kathleen Collins Wallace. You were named after her. If not for her encouragement that night, I’m not sure any of us would be here.”

  “So maybe it’s Kathleen we should be toasting instead of Conall.” Sean raised the nearly empty bottle of whiskey in silent tribute.

  “That’s a nice thought, son. Perhaps we should.”

  “So what happened when you left the dance, Pop” Tris asked. “Get to the good part.”