CHAPTER FIVE
Kieran admired Harry Armstrong’s confidence as he switched on the engine and backed out of a space in front of the Buffalo. Seemed like they were way too close to the lorry parked next to them.
He braced for the screech of metal on metal, but it never came. They cleared the spot and rolled down Main Street without hitting anything.
Sitting in the back seat was slightly less disorienting than being behind the wheel. But he still couldn’t get used to looking to his right and seeing the edge of the road. It was too close. They’d veer off into a ditch any second.
Sara had taken the middle seat next to him and Lani sat by the left-side door. Tucked in thigh-to-thigh with Sara gave him ideas he shouldn’t be having, but it was either focus on her lovely profile or the unsettling landscape whizzing by on the wrong side of the vehicle. He looked at Sara.
Extracting her mobile from the handbag on her lap, she called Desiree to announce they were bringing someone back with them and hoping she’d be available to meet him.
He could only hear her end of the call and was surprised at the wee amount of detail she gave Desiree — only that he’d justarrived in town and desperately needed this meeting. Sara didn’t even mention he was from Ireland.
Tucking her phone away, she glanced at him. “She’s looking forward to it.”
“The mystery man?”
“That’s on purpose. If you want her attention, give her a puzzle to solve.”
Vanessa laughed. “Isn’t that the truth.”
“But you didn’t even tell her my name.”
“Kieran isn’t a name you hear all the time. Pair it up with Haggerty and she’d ask if you’re Irish, and then if you’re from Ireland, and then?—”
“Before you know what hit you, she’s wormed out the whole story,” Vanessa said. “We’ve all learned that about Desiree. She’s curious and she’s persistent. Since this isn’t a conversation to have over the phone, Sara was smart to limit the info.”
“We’re lucky she’s not on deadline,” Lani said.
“Only because she burned the midnight oil before we arrived,” Harry said. “She told me it was down to the wire, but fortunately the characters cooperated and helped her write the ending.”
“Desiree’s a writer?”
“Bingo. Remember when I asked if you were here to see M.R. Morrison, the author?”
“I do.”
“That’s Desiree’s pen name. Until recently, readers believed she was a man. She took that name because when she published her first book thirty-five years ago, all the popular Western writers were men. Her publisher thought nobody would buy a woman’s Western stories.”
“That’s why she loves old Western films and TV shows? Because she writes about the West?”
“It’s more the other way around,” Harry said. “She was into those shows as a kid and had the urge to write stories like that. She’s built a successful career out of it, too.”
“While raising ten children?”
“That’s where Buck and Marybeth come in.” Sara got out her mobile. “Let me show you some pictures I took at Dallas’s wedding last February. This is Marybeth. She was Angie’s matron of honor.”
He gazed at the seventy-something lady who’d fastened her gray braids into a crown and decorated it with flowers. Joy shone in her eyes and in her wide smile. Made his chest hurt. Granny hadn’t worn an expression like that in years. “Nice.”
“And here are the McLintock brothers all lined up waiting for the wedding to start. That’s our brother Dallas and next to him is Trent, our other brother, who was his best man.”
“’Tis a massive group, there. Nine of ’em. Bet nobody messes with those fellas.”
“They’re completely harmless.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Harry said. “They aren’t likely to start something, but Marsh is into kickboxing and all of them are in excellent shape. If they need to defend themselves or a loved one, they won’t hesitate.”
“I can’t picture Rance duking it out with someone, though,” Sara said. “First he’d try to relieve the tension with a joke.”
