Bellamy had the urge to yell back and tell Oscar to get the Guinness himself before walking away and never glancing back.
But as strong as the urge was at times, Bellamy could neverdo it. Instead, he forced himself to heft up the closest cask of the Irish beer, then kicked open the shed door.
Across the alley, Oscar stood in the back door of the two-story building that housed the pub, his thick, wavy gray hair damp with perspiration, his face and nose ruddier than usual. He’d shed his suit coat and had his shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows, the armpits wet and yellowed.
“You know what you’re needing?” Oscar called as his eyes narrowed on Bellamy.
Bellamy started to cross the alley, the Guinness sloshing with each step he took. “I’m sure you’re going to be telling me whether I want you to or not.”
Oscar’s grin kicked up. “You know me well, that you do.”
“Oh aye.”
“Then you’ll not be whining when I tell you that it’s time for you to find a match of your own.”
“You’ll not be whining when I tell you that I’m not ready.” Bellamy never would be ready, not when every matchmaker in his family that he could remember had been unlucky in love. Very unlucky. The matchmakers excelled at finding love for others but failed miserably when it came to finding love for themselves. Oscar knew that. In fact, he’d had a disastrous marriage.
“You keep saying you’re not ready,” Oscar said, waggling his brows, “but I saw the way you were looking at Zaira Shanahan.”
Bellamy couldn’t hold back a scoff. “I was looking at her like the annoying pest that she is.”
Oscar guffawed. “You were looking at her like you wanted to annoy her right back ... with a kiss.”
With a kiss? Bellamy stumbled and then halted near thedoor. Heat rose into his face that had nothing to do with the humid summer day. Aye, there was no denying that Zaira was attractive. She was a beautiful spitfire, one whom any man would want to kiss.
But even if he had been in the business of kissing beautiful women—which he wasn’t—he still wouldn’t kiss Zaira ... because he didn’t like her or the fact that she knew his secret identity as W. B. M. Somehow she’d figured it out, and now she lorded it over him, teased him about it, and made him squirm with the worry of who she was going to tell.
The truth was, he didn’t want to have anything to do with her, wanted to stay as far from her as possible. And he certainly didn’t need anyone hearing Oscar’s declaration about kissing Zaira and the word getting around to her. She would only lord that over him too.
He checked both ways down the alley to see who was around. The back door of the adjacent store was wide open, but thankfully, no one seemed to be listening.
“Ach, it doesn’t matter.” Oscar scratched at his round belly. “James Shanahan may have accepted one working-class match with Kiernan, but he’ll be looking farther up for his next child.”
Bellamy shrugged. “’Tis not my concern.”
“It might be your concern soon enough when he comes calling to find Zaira a match.”
Protest pushed to the tip of Bellamy’s tongue. Zaira was too young at nineteen to get married. Wasn’t she?
With Oscar’s keen gaze upon him, Bellamy schooled his features into passivity and gave another nonchalant shrug. “If Mr. Shanahan comes calling, I’ll find Zaira an annoying husband to keep her company.”
Oscar stepped out of the doorway to allow Bellamy to pass. “Your reputation as a matchmaker is growing, especially because word is getting around about the love matches you made.”
“Naturally.” Bellamy set the cask down on the floor inside the kitchen.
Jenny and Gavin were both at work preparing food for the noon and evening meals—although they didn’t need large quantities of late, since they had fewer customers.
Jenny paused in her swift chopping of vegetables at the center work table. With her dark hair pulled up into a twisted knot, she was as elegant and pretty as always. At certain times, when she looked contemplative—like at the moment—she reminded him of Mam, and the usual pain stabbed his heart.
At the stove, Gavin was in the process of shredding chicken into a pot and didn’t bother turning around. As a brother-in-law, he was quiet but had been a solid and kind presence in their family for the past ten years that he and Jenny had been married.
“It’s good that everyone is hearing about your love matches.” Oscar lumbered through the kitchen, swiping up a biscuit from a platter on the sideboard overflowing with dishes. “You need to build a name for yourself as an intuitive matchmaker who knows how to find good, solid matches that will last a lifetime.”
Bellamy halted. Something wasn’t right. Oscar never had anything positive to say about his unconventional methods. So why now?
Oscar paused in the doorway that led to the bar and dining room and gave an impatient wave. “Come on, then.”
Bellamy arched a brow. “Doncha be prodding me along without telling me where you’re pushing me.”
