Page 9 of Midnight Mooring

“Aye. Yourself?”

Before they could continue such scintillating conversation, I interjected, “I invited Torin to lunch.”

“Nice.” Forde was perfectly congenial. “You staying on Glenvulin for a while?”

Gobsmacked, I listened to them chat back and forth and realized the men weren’t just familiar with each other but apparently friends. Huh. Unsure how to feel about this, I let them chat and turned to London who sat next to me. Her husband Murray sat across the table between Forde and Taran. Quinn was on London’s other side.

“How is married life treating you?”

When London walked into the pub five minutes ago, we’d hugged each other for a good minute. London Shaw (née Wetherspoon) had arrived on Glenvulin three and a half years ago, months after her best friend Tierney’s arrival. The two were born in New York City to wealthy parents. When Tierney’s hotelier parents were murdered, she’d followed her heritage back to Scotland and bought a run-down guest house to renovate right here in Leth Sholas.

London stayed back in New York but was trapped in an abusive relationship with a powerful man. Tierney and her husband Ramsay helped get London out, and London had been Taran’s roommate for a while before Taran got engaged to my brother. I’d jokingly suggested London marry our lovely, wealthy single dad and divorcé Murray Shaw so she could snag herself a visa. And that’s what she did.

Only they fell in love (to no one’s surprise) and were married for real now. It had been a traumatic journey, however. Which was why it was lovely to see London looking so happy and relaxed.

The redhead flicked her big husband a heated look. “Life is very good.”

“How’s Kelly doing?” I referred to Murray’s daughter, London’s stepdaughter.

“She’s great.” London touched my arm. “I can catch you up on all that later. I want to know about these six amazing months you spent traveling all over Europe. I followed your social media like a creep, but I want to hear all about it.”

We chatted for a while about my favorite spots and cities and experiences I’d had over the last few months. It still seemed unbelievable to me that I’d traveled so many places in such a short space of time, and the distraction reminded me of that. The Iron Ripper murders had overshadowed it all upon my return. I couldn’t even fully celebrate Taran and Quinn’s news that Taran was pregnant, and that hurt the most, though I attempted to be as excited about it as I would have been before this terrible cloud settled over my life.

The thought of it caused that dread to weigh me down on my chair, so I desperately sought distraction again. After we ordered food, I suggested a midday tipple and took everyone’s orders. Before anyone could protest to me buying a round, I hurried across the room and into the bar next door.

The Lantern was exactly what you’d expect of a traditional Scottish pub, but Aodhan looked after it beautifully. It was well kept and never smelled of alcohol-soaked carpets. Threadbare chairs were replaced as soon as they even appeared a little worn, and since I’d been alive, Aodhan had updated the upholstery on the booths several times. The bar was quieter than the restaurant at midday, but there were a few locals around Aodhan’s age having a pint. They nodded and waved in greeting as I walked by, the familiarity of it warming me.

What wasn’t familiar was the young man who backed into me.

The wiry youth (he had to be older than twenty-one because Aodhan wasn’t known to hire anyone under that age) was dressed in jeans and a dark polo shirt. He had a toolbox in his hand and wore a name tag that told me his name was Kenan.

“Sorry,” I said, even though he was the one who bumped into me.

Kenan looked surprised to see me, as if he’d been lost in his own thoughts.

“Kenan, you can fix that lamp later. Not during pub hours,” Sue, the bartender, called from behind the counter.

He gave her a nod and disappeared through the Staff Only door at the back of the bar.

“That one is always leaving his head somewhere else.” Sue tsked. “New hotel janitor. Anyway, how are you, sweetheart?”

Sue and I swapped small talk before she took my order. We were still chatting about my travels when my nape prickled. I glanced toward the doorway between the bar and the restroom just as Forde stepped through it.

“Hi, Forde.” Kenan seemed to appear out of nowhere, his expression like an excited puppy as Forde stumbled to a startled stop beside him.

“Uh. Hi.” He gave him a tight-lipped smile before he continued toward me.

Kenan’s gaze followed him with an obvious tortured longing I recognized.

An old irritation gnawed at me because this had been my whole life, watching people fall over themselves for Forde. He’d never been short of sexual attention, and that’s all he’d ever wanted from women. I’d wasted so much of my life waiting for him to want more.

But I was done. Finally, I was done.

“Hey,” I said softly as he stopped at the bar, so close our shoulders touched.

He nudged me with his, the scent of his aftershave causing wee flutters to flap wildly in my belly. “Hey.” Forde’s eyes washed over my face as he bit his bottom lip in thought. I wondered if he was aware of how enticing that wee quirk was. It made a woman look at his mouth and imagine things. Or remember things, as was our case. I refused to allow my eyes to wander. Instead, they got hooked in his gaze, which was probably worse.

What was so confusing about Forde was not only his past behavior that smacked irritatingly of jealousy, but the way he looked at me.