Page 30 of Nick: His to Claim

“Too what?” he insisted, refusing to let her go.

A hundred answers raced through her mind. Too strong… too dominant… too smart… too sexy… too principled… too bossy… and your eyes are too blue; they steal my will, and your body is too hot, and it makes my mouth water. And besides that, your hands are huge and hard, and I know you’ll spank me. Ugh!

“To everything,” she sputtered, still trying to get free of him. Nick gathered her close.

For a moment Maggie sighed and rested her head over his heart, listening to its gentle rhythm; her own heart was fluttering like a bird. See, see, she thought as the rest of the chant reached her ears—“first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes… ”—he makes me forget everything but him. Good grief, I’m so screwed.

Once Nick released her, Maggie flew over the sloping lawn and raced up the steps. Her light ruffled skirt revealed more than it hid as she advanced on the girls amid screams of glee.

“What was that?” she mock growled as her hands began to tickle them mercilessly, moving from one to another around the table. “Were you singing about me?”

“No, Aunt Maggie,” their squeals dissolved into hysterical laughter.

By now, Nick had reached the porch, and Caitie raced to him, throwing her arms around his neck as he scooped her up.

“Make her stop, Nicky,” she gasped, still laughing.

The tickling stopped, and two little girls shyly peeked up at him from under their hats.

“Lily, Rose, this is Nick, a friend of mine,” Maggie made the introductions. “Nick, these are my nieces, Lily and Rose.

“We’re twins,” both girls said in unison and then giggled.

Nick studied the girls. Identical faces complete with a smattering of freckles. Amethyst eyes stared back, and auburn curls spilled down onto their shoulders.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Nick replied bending down to shake each tiny hand. “How old are you?”

“They is six,” Caitie supplied wiggling to get down. “Do you wanna come to our tea party?”

“Maybe a little later,” Maggie answered as she held the screen door open for Nick. “They are two of Colleen and Noah’s children. The two boys out there with Jason are Patrick and Molly’s. Speak of the devil,” she continued as they stepped into the foyer.

Patrick O’Malley was easily as tall as Rory, but not nearly as broad. With dark red hair and sparkling green eyes, he had the look of an overgrown leprechaun. Being the second son had its advantages, and he hadn’t inherited what Maggie and her sisters referred to as the “large and in charge gene”. While not many people would like to see him pissed off, it didn’t happen very often.

Patrick had an easygoing personality and a wicked sense of humor. He was the peacemaker in the family and was usually the go-to guy. Currently, he had two eight-year-old boys, one dangling like a sack of potatoes under each arm.

“Nick, how are you? Nice to see you, buddy. I’d shake your hand if I could, but I’ve sort of got my arms full. This little monster is Devlin,” he said, giving the boy a lift and acting like he was going to drop him on his head. “Say hello to Nick, Dev.”

“Hey, Nick,” Devlin squealed, pretending to struggle to get away but clearly loving every minute of it.

“You know Todd,” Patrick continued giving the other boy the same treatment. “Dev belongs to Colleen, and believe me she deserves him,” he laughed. “I’m taking these two hooligans with me down to the pub. Ma’s afraid she’ll run out of drinks and says she’d rather shop at the pub seeing how it’s free.”

Maggie laughed. Patrick and Molly were the owners ofThe Rose and Thistle, an Irish pub they inherited from Molly’s grandparents. Although the pub was open on Sunday, neither Molly nor Patrick worked. They learned long ago that not showing up for Sunday dinner was breaking the eleventh commandment as far as Maeve was concerned.

“Well, I’m off,” Patrick said. “I’ll see you two in a bit. Better get out of here before Ma thinks of anything else she needs.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth, than a stunningly beautiful woman glided into the room. Tall and willowy, she seemed to float on air as she joined the group. Her blonde hair hung to her waist, and her crystal blue eyes were mesmerizing. The white skirt she wore was mid-calf with a fluttering hem that looked like a thousand lace handkerchiefs. Her gauzy top was the exact blue of her eyes and a wide belt cinched her waist. Barefoot, a tinkling bracelet of tiny bells surrounded her ankle.

“Hi, I’m Molly,” she smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. “You must be Nick. Nice to meet you,” she continued, her head slightly cocked to one side as if she were listening to something. For a second, a faraway look entered her eyes that left Nick totally disconcerted. Finally, she gave a quick nod and released his hand.

Nick was speechless. The minute her hand touched his he felt as though she could see inside his soul. Even after she’d released him he was unable to form a clear thought. Molly scooted behind Patrick, slid her arms around his waist and slipped something deep into his front pocket.

“Ma wants you to stop and pick up more whipping cream for the shortcake,” she breathed into his ear, gently pretending to pat the money into place.

Patrick groaned and took a deep breath.

“You’re going to pay for that, baby,” he moaned, struggling to get his heart to slow down. “Later, when my hands are free, you’re in big trouble.”

“God, I hope so,” Molly replied with a determined gleam in her eyes before she turned and floated out of the room.