Chapter 18

At long last the sun peeked its head over the horizon. Moira pried herself from the covers and braced herself for the frigid, watery floor. Thanks be to God. Much of the water had dried up during the early morning hours. It left in its wake, however, a slick, frosty footpath. Traversing it to fetch her shoes from the press proved an unpleasant task.

As she fumbled about, her thoughts worked to untangle how to repair the damage. Disappointment settled in her heart as her dream of a quiet, relaxing weekend vanished amid visions of time-consuming—and likely expensive—repairs.

“Yes, Moira Girl, it looks like all work and no play for you this weekend.”

She looked wistfully at the broken window. “But at least you won’t be alone. You’ll need to have experts help you. You’ll need to find a tha—”

Images of Sean’s eyes, green as the Irish countryside, filled her mind. Her hands drifted to her cheeks. Burning again. This time, however, she knew no fire was to blame.

She thought back to the first time she’d seen him, silhouetted in the gale that welcomed her to Ballymann. Drenched in rain, running a strong hand through his thick mop of hair, he’d been altogether enchanting—and infuriating. Her heart beat in her chest like a bodhrán driving a reel. She dreaded the thought of seeing him again. Or did she? He’d been such a dolt. Then again, he had come to her rescue at the beach with Buach. And again at the schoolhouse with the fire.

A deep sigh puffed from her chest. She shuffled to the mirror to set her hair and freshen her face.

You must present a tidy appearance to uphold your sense of professionalism.

She didn’t believe herself for a second.

“Sean!”

Sean craned his neck to peer over the western edge of the O’Malleys’ roof.

Colm squinted up at him.

“Aye?”

“I’ve another job for ye.” The old man shaded his eyes with a hand.

“Land sakes, another one?” Sean dropped his head and muttered to himself through gritted teeth. He nodded. “Aye. I’d say it’ll have to wait. We’ve got enough jobs from the storm last night to last a fortnight.”

“Aye, we do.” Colm cleared his throat. “Do ye not want to know who its fer, then?”

Sean stopped working and sighed. Doesn’t the auld man know there isn’t time for chitchat? Sure, and if he’s so worried about it he can go take care of it.

Remorse filled him for the careless thought—along with gratitude that he hadn’t shot it out of his mouth. He pressed his lips together and peeked over the edge again.

A goofy grin crinkled Colm’s face.

“Who’s it for, then?”

“Miss Doherty’s chalet didn’t fare too well in the gale last night. Tore a hole the size o’ my foot in the poor girl’s roof, so it did.” He arched his shaggy eyebrows.

Moira? Unrest niggled his belly at the idea of her. Of course he would use any excuse to look on her fair face once more. But could he trust himself not to play the fool again—or worse, insult the poor girl, which he seemed to have a penchant for doing? Not to mention he’d have to endure more of her abuses in response to his every action. As much as he tried to stifle it, a smile spread across his face. He dared not look down at the old man again, lest his mentor see his delight.

He kept his head down, his hands busy, and called out, “I’ll be there after lunch.”

“Yer a good man yerself,” Colm called as he headed down the lane. A faint chuckle wafted on the breeze as he disappeared over a hill.

The red door stared hard at Sean. Taunting him. Daring him to knock and not make a fool of himself in the process. He stood there for ages working up the courage while trying to figure out what to say.

Good grief, lad, it’s not like you’re coming to call on the girl. It’s a simple business call. Just think of it as Old Man McGuire’s house.

“Except Old Man McGuire doesn’t have eyes like the sea on a summer’s day,” he mumbled. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the top half of the door flew open.

“I thought I heard someone out here!”

His breath caught in his chest. Moira’s eyes sparkled even more than he remembered. Steady, lad.

“Sorry to beat you to the punch,” she continued. “Someone has been skulking about the place lately, leaving little . . . treats for me. I thought maybe you were the guilty party.” She shrugged and smiled.

How had he not noticed her dimples before?

“Not a bother, Miss.” Could she hear his heartbeat in his voice? “Eh . . . Colm said you had some damage from the storm? I see the tree took offense at the chalet being in its way.” He nodded to the broken window and chuckled.

Eejit.

“Yes, it was quite the rude awakening. Please, come in and I’ll show you.” She gestured toward the back room. As he made his way back, he noticed she left the door open.

“The floor took quite a beating too.” She swept her hand in a low arc. “There was probably half an inch of standing water in the bedchamber.”

Was she blushing? “The floor looks alright, but we need to address that roof.” Sean’s cheeks burned. After all, it wasn’t everyday he stood in a single woman’s bedchamber—a beautiful single woman, at that. No wonder she left the door open.

Moira pointed to the damaged area, and Sean stepped closer to take a better look. She remained in front of the fireplace. The dim light offered no help. He needed to get closer still.

“I need to fetch my ladder. I’ll be back in a wee while.”

Upon returning, he carried the ladder to the bedside and leaned it up against the wood frame of the canopy. As soon as he placed his full weight on the first rung, its feet slid out from underneath him. The ladder fell over him and nearly landed on his head, but it somehow hovered in midair. He looked up to find a petite hand holding firmly onto a rung and a cheeky grin on Moira’s face.

“Well now, I suppose this makes us even?” she said.

Her laugh was like water over rocks. Sean stood and brushed off his breeches.

“Well, yes, I suppose it does, Miss Doherty.” Though sure his oversized smile painted him every bit the simp, he couldn’t hold it back. “But I do believe you’re about to owe me again.”

Her face clouded.

“I can’t be certain until I get a closer look, but it seems I’ll be working my fingers to the bone to repair it.” He let a wink slip.

A lovely shade of pink filled her cheeks and she ducked her head coyly. “If you say so.”

The two stared at one another, swapping silly grins.

At last, Sean shook himself back to reality. “If you’d be so kind as to hold the ladder for me while I investigate things up there?”

The blush on her cheeks deepened, and she eyed the open door. “Yes, of course. We can’t have you killing yourself before the job’s done.”

Sean started up the ladder, one shaky step at a time, his head spinning at the nearness of her. The heady fragrance of lavender that wafted up from her hair didn’t help the matter.

Focus, lad. The roof.

Once atop the canopy, he surveyed the damage and made note of the needed supplies before descending. Thankfully the journey down was much smoother than the way up.

“I’ll fetch the supplies and be back in a jiff. Colm will join me.” He wanted her to know he cared about propriety and her reputation. It just wouldn’t do for him to spend so much time alone in her chalet, whether she was there or not. Especially with the way tongues wagged in this village.

Moira dipped her head and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. McFadden. I’ll be sure to have the kettle on when you both arrive.”