And when he had touched her because he’d seen through her pitiful ploy of seeking him out to thank him, she’d climbed all over him.

No wonder he’d shown her the door.

But he hadn’t had to be so cruel about it, she thought, shoving up again. He’d humiliated her.

“‘You’re not ready for me,’” she muttered, remembering what he’d said. “How the hell does he know what I’m ready for when I don’t know myself? He’s not a damn mind reader.”

Sulking now, she ripped the top off the container of cookies and snatched one. She ate it with a scowl on her face as she replayed that last scene, and gave herself wonderful, pithy lines to put Liam Donovan in his place.

“So, he didn’t want me,” she muttered. “Who expected him to? I’ll just stay out of his way. Completely. Totally.” She shoved another cookie into her mouth. “I came here to figure out myself, not to try to understand some Irish recluse.”

Slightly ill from the cookies, she snapped the lid back on. The first thing she was going to do was drive into town and find a bookstore. She was going to buy some how-to books. Basic home maintenance, she decided, stalking back into the living room for her purse.

She wasn’t going to go fumbling around the next time something happened. She’d figure out how to fix it herself. And, she thought darkly as she marched out of the house, if Liam came to her door offering to fix it for her, she’d coolly tell him she could take care of herself.

She slammed the door of the Rover, gunned the engine. An errant thought about flat tires made her think she’d better find a book on car repair while she was at it.

She bumped along the dirt road, clamping down on the urge to work off some of her frustration by stomping on the gas. Just where Belinda’s little lane met the main road, she saw the silver bird.

He was huge, magnificent. An eagle, she thought, automatically stepping on the brake to stop and study him. Though she didn’t know if any type of eagle was that regal silvery gray or if they tended to perch on road signs to stare—balefully, she decided—at passing cars.

What wonderfully odd fauna they had in Oregon, she mused, and reminded herself to read more carefully the books on local wildlife she’d brought with her. Unable to resist, she rolled down the window and leaned out.

“You’re so handsome.” She smiled as the bird ruffled his feathers and seemed to preen. “So regal. I bet you look magnificent in the air. I wonder what it feels like to fly. To just … own the sky. You’d know.”