“I’m not changing the subject,” she said sweetly. “I’m simply prioritizing my inner peace.”
“We have a goat problem,Aisling.”
“Correction: you have a goat problem. I have warm toast and sunlight.”
He stomped up the steps, standing over her like some furious garden gnome with knee-high boots. “Fine. I’ll go to Killaloe and buy a camera. I’ll catch her on film, and then you’ll have your proof.”
“Perfect,” she said with a grin. “Then we can do a goat lineup. Like Law & Order: Livestock Unit.”
He rolled his eyes, clearly regretting every life choice that led him to this porch. And she was enjoying watching him suffer.
“You know,” she added casually, “I read my grandmother’s journals last night. Your family’s feud résumé is... impressive.”
“Let me guess. You got to the part where my great-grandfather relocated your family’s roses.”
“You mean stole them in the dead of night and replanted them on Gallagher land? Yes. And then claimed they ‘walked toward better soil’? The man was the original delusional landscape artist.”
Ronan snorted. “Darragh Gallagher was a devout Catholic and a certified lunatic. Even the bishop stopped taking his confession.”
She laughed despite herself.
“I was six when I watched him and your grandfather shout over property lines for an hour. I genuinely thought one of them would duel with shovels. I’m not convinced they didn’t.”
A breeze drifted through, teasing her hair. She tucked an auburn curl behind her ear and leaned back, eyeing him.
“Have you ever had this much drama growing up?” she asked. Drama did not happen at the O’Byrne apartment. Not even when the rent was past due.
He blinked. “Are you kidding? We have drama for breakfast. I’ve got a younger brother and a mother who once banned arguing at the dinner table because someone launched mashed potatoes over a disputed chess game.”
“Wow. That’s… impressive. It was just me and my mom. Quiet. No mashed potatoes flung in the name of justice.”
He hesitated. “No siblings?”
“Nope. Just me, myself, and Maeve.” Her voice softened, just a bit. “She wanted me close. Didn’t even want me to go to college. Now I wonder if it was about more than just missing me.”
Ronan’s gaze shifted, thoughtful.
“She was afraid,” Aisling said, more to herself than him. “Afraid I’d leave and never come back. Just like she did to her mother.”
Now, Aisling wondered if her mother was afraid she’d come back pregnant.
A long pause stretched between them.
Then he cleared his throat. “Well, if nothing else, you’ve inherited the drama. And the goat.”
“You keep bringing her up like she’s plotting your demise.”
“She is.She sleeps in tall grass and waits until I’m out of sight, and then she attacks my flowers.”
Before she could fire back, a rumble echoed up the gravel drive.
A truck.
Ronan squinted toward the driveway. “You expecting company?”
“Yes,” she said, standing. “Contractors. Darren McCarthey and Fergal Kenny. May the best man win.”
“Fergal’s your guy,” Ronan said immediately. “No question.”
