Kelly Jamieson: Irish Sex Fairy

Shane.

Heat and memories swept over her as she stood there in the doorway. The last summer she’d been to Kilkenny she and Shane Dunstan had…connected. Combusted. They’d spent every minute they could together before Keara went back to LA to start college.

He seemed taller. Did boys grow even after they were eighteen? He seemed broader, too, with powerful shoulders and arms stretching a black T-shirt. She swallowed, and just as she started to turn and leave, Maeve spotted her.

“Keara, come here, muirnín . Come and say hello to Shane.”

Keara felt her eyes grow wide and she swallowed through a dry throat. She forced her feet to move forward.

“Shane, you remember Keara, surely?”

Those gem-like eyes fastened on her. His brows lifted, then drew down into a frown. He didn’t smile. “Keara. Long time no see. Nice of you to finally visit your aunt.”

Keara blinked. Had he just been snotty to her?

“Shane is now the deputy police chief here in Kilkenny,” Maeve continued cheerily.

“And a customer,” Keara added, eyeing the bag Maeve handed him.

His lips twitched. “That’s right. Is that a problem?”

She shrugged. “Not a problem at all. Nice to see the police shopping in a sex shop.”

His brows snapped together. “What the…”

“Keara,” Maeve said. “Shane is off-duty, and even police officers have sex lives.”

And you don’t , Keara finished for her. Fine. She didn’t need sex. It was way overrated.

Kayla’s cheeks heated and she lifted one foot and set it atop the other as she stood behind the counter. “Quite an active one from the size of that box,” she said, nodding.

Shane grinned. “I’m hoping.”

Oh lord. Who was the lucky girl he was going to be having sex with tonight? Keara’s cheeks burned at scorching memories of her and Shane together.

He lifted the bag in a wave. “Thanks, Maeve. I’ll see you next weekend. Mom says you’re coming for dinner.” The smile disappeared. “Nice seeing you again, Keara.”

Well. He apparently didn’t treasure those memories the same way she did. It was as if he didn’t even remember that summer. In fact, he’d seemed downright…cool toward her.

“Have fun tonight!” Maeve called as he strode out of the store.

“Shane has a hot date tonight with a woman from Santa Barbara,” Maeve said. “And it’s about time he started dating again. That bitseach he was engaged to broke his heart.”

“Maeve!” Keara still remembered the Gaelic curses Maeve was fond of using.

“She was a bitch,” Maeve replied unapologetically.

Shane had been engaged? But apparently wasn’t married now. Keara rolled her lips in. Why was she even thinking about that? What had been between them was a long, long time ago.

“And what was that rudeness about, may I ask, young lady?”

Keara licked her lips. “He was rude to me first.”

Maeve arched a brow. “He was?”

“Never mind.” God, what was wrong with her? She’d never in her life been deliberately rude to someone. But that jab about finally visiting her aunt had struck a nerve she didn’t even know was there.

“You and Shane were friends at one time,” Maeve said, tapping her lips with one finger.

Ha. Friends. Had Maeve not realized what was going on between them?

“Did you two have a fight or something that summer?”

“No.” Keara looked at the floor.

“Well, you just need to get reacquainted. Everyone loves Shane. Not only is he delicious-looking, but he could charm the moss off a tree. He’s so charming he can tell someone to go to hell and have him look forward to the trip.”

Keara couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at that.

“And…” Maeve winked. “You should see him in his uniform. Jesus and Mary, he looks hot.”

More customers entered the store and Jayla and Maeve became occupied helping them. Keara retreated upstairs to the apartment, head full of thoughts and images of Shane. She hadn’t thought about him in years. And there was no reason to think about him now.

Keara woke with a gasp. Her cotton tank clung damply to her skin. She stared at the ceiling, her heart thudding, taking in big lungs full of oxygen through her nose. She pressed a hand to her stomach.

For a few heartbeats she didn’t know where she was. Moonlight peeked between the edge of the blind on the window and created a strip of lacy light through the curtain.

Maeve’s. She was at Maeve’s. She was okay.

But damn, she’d had the nightmare again.

She took a few more deep breaths, her heart slowing. Then she sat up in the bed, shoving the pretty coverlet down her legs. She sat cross-legged in the dark for long moments, trying to forget the gruesome dream.

She knew from experience she would not get right back to sleep. The doctor had told her not to lie there and dwell on things, but to get up and have a cup of herbal tea, read a good book, do some knitting.

She didn’t know how to knit.

Maybe Maeve knew how to knit. Or crochet. Maybe she could teach her.

But that was no help tonight. She swung her legs out of bed, reached for the lamp and flicked it on. Shadows shrank back into the corners of the room. She stood on the soft cotton rug, straightened her tank top and ran her thumbs under the low waistband of the little shorts she wore. She’d brought a couple of books with her, so she retrieved one from the shelf she’d set it on, and looked back at the bed. Maybe she’d go sit in the living room and read for a while.

Television was supposedly bad. It played with your brain waves or something, and interfered with sleep, rather than induce it, but after Keara found herself rereading the same page three times, she tossed her book aside and picked up the remote for the TV. Then she glanced down the hall at Maeve’s room. She didn’t want to disturb her aunt.

She leaned her head back against the couch. The television provided voices almost like human company and she probably relied on it too much to soothe her agitated nerves.

Herbal tea. Did Maeve actually have any of that?

Keara padded into the kitchen and opened and closed cupboards, feeling a little like she was snooping. When she opened a cupboard and spotted the bottle of Jameson’s, she paused. With a little huff of laughter she recalled her aunt’s earlier insistence that they have a drink and toast Keara’s being there. “ Sláinte chugat ,” Maeve had said, lifting her glass.

Another shot of whiskey might be the answer. Why not? It didn’t look like Maeve had any chamomile tea. So she poured amber liquid into a glass and wandered back to the living room. She peered out the window overlooking the street, now quiet and deserted, light pooling in a circle around paving stones beneath the street lamp. Alone.

On a long inhalation, she turned and surveyed the room. Hey. She could go downstairs and look around the store. She could check out every single kinky thing there with nobody else around.

On bare feet, she padded out of the apartment and toward the stairs, feeling for the light switch she knew was at the top. She flicked it on, descended and pushed through the door into the front of the store. She debated whether to put the lights on. She didn’t want to attract attention from anyone passing by but…there was no one passing by at this time of night. And wandering around in the dark shop did not appeal to her. She looked at the small clock on the desk behind the counter. Ten minutes after three.

With a shrug, she flicked on the light and strolled over to a wall display, her glass of whiskey clutched in both hands. She lifted it to her lips and sipped, the strong spirits almost taking her breath away. How did Maeve drink this stuff? Give her a nice Pinot Noir any day.