Love and Blarney by Zara Keane Read Free Book Online

Buck—sat beside John-Joe. What Buck lacked in hair, he did not make up for in intelligence, but Ruairí was fond of him all the same. “What can I get you?”
    “Ah, throw me a packet of those dry-roasted peanuts, would you? And you might as well pull me a pint of stout to go with them.”
    “Coming right up.”
    Buck’s habit of ordering a packet of crisps or peanuts and adding his drink as if it were an afterthought never failed to amuse him. Buck was his father’s brother. As good-natured as Colm was mean, he was rarely sober and had a tendency to fall for every get-rich-quick scheme that stumbled across his path.
    “Molly tells me you’ve taken a bride,” Buck said when Ruairí slid a pint in front of him.
    “Not exactly.” His eyes flickered toward Jayme. “We got married three years ago.”
And we’re in the process of getting a divorce…
The words stuck in his throat.
    “Aye?” Buck peered myopically at Jayme. “She’s a looker all right.”
    “Yes, she is,” he said, watching her pour herself a glass of water. He shouldn’t be enjoying having her around as much as he was. She’d be gone by the end of next week. But she was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise mundane existence. He didn’t miss the rat race or the cutthroat mentality of Wall Street. He didn’t miss his phony friends—only a couple had bothered to keep in touch once it became clear that he intended to stay in Ireland and run the pub.
    But he missed Jayme. Every damn day. He’d been a fool to think he was moving on, starting to get over her. One glance at her sweet face and delicate curves, and he’d been a goner.
    She caught him looking at her and raised a slim eyebrow. “What are you staring at? Am I doing something wrong?”
    “Not at all. You’re perfect.”
    She laughed. “I doubt that, but I am trying.”
    He caught her hand and pulled her out of earshot. “Jayme?”
    “Yes?”
    “Thanks for coming over to Ireland.” His voice cracked with emotion. “You were right to force us to talk in person. It’s too easy to pretend at a distance. But we are going to have to sit down and decide… how to proceed.”
    She nodded and entwined her fingers with his. She rubbed the indent where his wedding ring had been. “What did you do with your wedding band?”
    Hurt lurked in those beautiful eyes. He smiled and fished a chain out of his shirt. “I wear it over my heart.”
    She laughed. “You liar! You always hated that ring.”
    “No, I don’t hate it. I certainly don’t hate what it symbolizes.” He unfurled his hand and showed her the indent. Small scales of hard skin were still visible. “See this? The ring gave me a rash and it’s only starting to heal now, months after I stopped wearing it.”
    “A rash?” She examined his finger closely. His pulse quickened at her touch, sending tiny jolts of electricity coursing through his veins. “Do you think you’re allergic to platinum?”
    “Is that possible? I’ve heard of nickel allergies, but I thought platinum was safe.”
    Jayme shook her head. “Platinum allergies are rare, but they certainly exist. Why didn’t you tell me the ring was bothering you?”
    Their eyes locked. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You chose our wedding bands.”
    “Yeah, but I don’t want you wearing a ring that makes you itch. We could have traded yours in for one made from a different metal.”
    “But then our rings wouldn’t match.”
    “So? As long as you’re comfortable, that’s all that I care about.”
    They stared at one another in silence. Would it have been that simple? Why hadn’t he told her the ring was bothering him instead of adding it to the mountain of things they simply didn’t discuss? Jayme was sweet and caring and a great listener. So why had he felt it necessary to bottle up his emotions and hide his feelings from her? Force of habit? Growing up with Colm MacCarthy as a father, he’d mastered the art of affecting a neutral mask from an early