“Thank you for my first...or second Guinness,” she said, trying to be friendly. She worried that her brush-off sounded harsh.

“But not your last.”

“Nope,” Antonia said as she walked away. She left him standing by the fireplace. Good, that’s where he needs to stay. She drew her jacket close to her neck as she exited the pub. In the chilly night, her breath was visible in the cold damp air. It helped her shake off the warm fog of the pub and kept her vigilant enough to check both ways before she scampered across the road. Antonia walked past the unit where the professor stayed. There wasn’t a light on in his cottage and she presumed that he was already asleep. Which was exactly what she needed to be.

Aiden. His name lingered around the edges of her fatigued mind as she set her key on the nearby window sill. Antonia was concerned about her behavior around him and tried ignoring that she may have sounded short with him. It was different when she thought he was just a passing stranger. In the grocery store, his flirtation earlier seemed fleeting and harmless. It was a chance for her to “stretch her legs” away from Derek. There was a small part of her that wondered if she was being irrational. There was a chance that Aiden wasn’t flirting with her. Maybe he was just a nice guy and this was what people meant when they spoke of the Irish “gift of gab.”

Antonia kicked off her shoes and made her way back to the solitary bedroom, skipping the bathroom altogether. She shrugged out of her clothes and whipping the covers back, the ache between her shoulders eased slightly as she climbed into bed. “He’s just a nice guy,” she murmured in the dark. Sleep was ready to claim her any moment, but the image of his face burned its way into her memory. His eyes, green as the rolling hills of Connemara. Aiden...

Chapter Eleven

Aiden woke up drenched in sweat and hard.

The dream he’d experienced had been so vivid and sexual, he regretted opening his eyes to the morning light filtering through his bedroom window. He looked at the raised tent in his sheets and groaned. “Jaysus.”

Aiden reached down and enclosed the aching stiffness, rubbing his length gingerly. Closing his eyes, he tried to return to the hot memories of his sleep. Antonia’s soft body stretched beneath him, her full breasts undulating with each stroke he took. Her face was an expression of delirious desire as she gripped the multitude of pillows surrounding her head. Aiden stopped midstroke. Where did all the pillows come from? He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Who cares about the feckin’ pillows?”

He sat up, cock in hand, and cursed the dream. He still had a hot club between his thighs as he scooted out of bed. He cursed the chance meeting they had in SuperValu and the second chance meeting at Paddy Coynes. He tried pushing aside the idea of her reappearance acting as a sign. There was no reason to suspect that; it was all chance. Coincidence. Aiden turned the shower box on, switching the water to cold, and proceeded to flagellate himself in the jolting spray. One thing he would not do is pleasure himself with the thought of the woman next door. His journey to Tully Cross was for rest and writing, not to chase after American women.