boys came a sense of exhilarating freedom. There was nothing to stop her from living her life exactly how she chose. That first spontaneous kiss with Kellan had been just the start of her pursuit of pleasure.
Thinking back on it, it had been a terribly bold move on her part. But her grandmother had always told her that if she wanted to be happy, she had to grab happiness wherever she could find it. At that moment in time, Kellan had represented everything that was wonderful about life.
She’d watched him and his brothers from afar, hidden behind the rocks on the cliff. He’d been the one she’d fashioned her silly schoolgirl dreams around, the dark, brooding, handsome boy with the pale blue eyes and the confident air about him.
He’d been her first, but he hadn’t been her last. Schoolgirl fantasies gave way to teenage realities. Once back in Switzerland, she’d begun to sneak out after curfew. A few years later, there were ski weekends with college boys, older brothers of her schoolmates. She quickly learned to use her sex appeal to get whatever she wanted from handsome men.
After being kicked out of one boarding school, her parents sent her to another and another. It was then she discovered that bad behavior was all it took to get attention from her parents.
Prep school was followed by university. She headed for Paris and studied art history at the Sorbonne, cooking at Le Cordon Bleu and apprenticed as a designer at Studio Berçot. Then she gained access to her trust fund and her life as a celebutante began.
Gelsey sighed and pulled the covers over her head. She was so tired of that life, completely exhausted playing the role she’d created for herself. The men, the money, the parties. It had all become a giant, crashing bore. And now she’d found an escape, a place to breathe, to take stock of the future and put her past behind her.
To the rest of the world, she was Gigi Woodson. She dated famous athletes and gorgeous male models and sexy actors. She moved from one man to another whenever she grew bored or restless. And every now and then, she got so drunk that she did something that landed her in the tabloids. But here, on the western coast of Ireland, she was a stranger without a past.
Very few people knew her well. Her parents had never bothered to try. But her grandmother had always been able to see inside her heart and say the words that made her feel loved and cherished. It had been the only truly good thing she’d remembered from her childhood. Gelsey felt emotion tighten her throat and she fought back the tears. If only her grandmother were here now, to help her through, to reassure her.
A knock sounded at the front door and Gelsey pushed up, bracing her hand beneath her. She raked her tousled hair out of her eyes and searched around for something to wear. The sweatshirt that Kellan had given her the night before was draped over the bedpost. She grabbed it and pulled it over her head, then tugged on his boxer shorts.
The house was warmer, a fresh peat fire burning in the hearth and the little space heater humming away in the corner. She pulled the door open expecting to see Kellan, his arms overloaded with breakfast. But two women were standing outside, friendly smiles pasted on their faces.
“Hello,” Gelsey said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I’m afraid Kellan isn’t here.”
“Better that,” the brunette said cheerfully. “We’ve come to see you.” She held a canvas bag in front of her. “We’ve brought you something to wear. I’m Jordan and this is Nan.”
The raven-haired woman held out another bag. “And you must be Gelsey.”
Gelsey stepped away from the door and the two strolled inside as if they were quite at home. Nan wrinkled her nose, then motioned toward the fire. “We really should talk to the boys about putting in central heat. Those peat fires make my eyes water.”
“And they should put in a decent bathroom. That shower isn’t any bigger than a broom
Starla Huchton, S. A. Huchton