Sweeney quirked an eyebrow as she half turned in her chair to face him. ‘Are you not sure? Or is there anit’s complicatedthing going on?’
‘Nope. I’m thoroughly single.’
There was a flatness to his voice and something stirred inside of Sweeney. As a boy, Fin hadn’t been much of a Casanova. He’d been shy around girls who weren’t either his cousins or her, and it had always seemed short-sighted to Sweeney that her peers—girls like Maria Jennings—hadn’t been able to see beyond the wild hair, big head and geeky glasses to the great guy underneath.
Which had made her very protective of him.
Fin had long outgrown his social awkwardness with the opposite sex. There’d beena lotof dating in his life from uni onwards, if his social media was any indication, although he hadn’t put much on his Insta grid since moving overseas.
‘What the hell’s wrong with women in Ireland?’ she joked lightly. ‘I mean, I have it on good authority you know how to ruin a woman’s vagina but good.’
Fin snort-laughed, a hand on his chest drawing her attention yet again to the broad set of his shoulders. ‘Oh god …’ He groaned. ‘How am I ever going to unhear that?’
‘Sorry.’ She shook her head. ‘There’s not enough ear bleach in the world.’
He also half turned in his chair. ‘I’ve dated a little over there. I just …’ He hesitated, seemingly grappling with what to say. ‘I don’t know.’ Clearly giving up the struggle, he shrugged. ‘It took a while to be interested after Dad passed. And ever since, it seems like every woman I go out with is mentally run through the Michael Murphy approval framework and, well… that’s not sexy.’
Sweeney laughed. ‘No. I imagine not. Although I reckon he’d be thrilled with having an Irish girl in the family.’ Michael might have been born in Ballyshannon and proud of his first-generation Australian roots, but his affinity for Ireland had been deep and abiding.
‘Yeah,’ he agreed, his voice wistful. ‘He’d have been crazy about that.’ Shooting her a small smile, he asked, ‘What about you? Is there some guy out there who’s going to ride into Ballyshannon and challenge me to a duel?’
Sweeney laughed. ‘Hell no.’ She straightened in the chair, bringing the mug from her lap to the armrest, her gaze fixing on the rays of sunlight penetrating the hedge between the Murphy house and the back neighbour.
‘Still avoiding entanglements?’
‘I’m never in one place for long. What would be the point?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Fin also straightened in the chair. ‘Connection. Companionship. Someone who knows you better than anybody else in the world. Love.’
Yeah, except whenever Sweeney thought about love—romantic love—she thought about the flip side. About her mother barely able to get out of bed for three years after her father passed. About that permanent ball of anxiety coiled in her gut, desperately afraid for her mum while trying to take care of them both and keep it all quiet because what if her mother was taken away, too?
Nope. If that’s where love got you, she’d take a big fat pass.
‘I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Finley Murphy.’
‘I blame it on Ireland.’
‘Me too.’
They laughed until Ronnie interrupted them a few moments later. ‘Morning,’ she said chirpily, settling herself into a regular chair beside Fin. ‘Did you both sleep well?’
Sweeney grinned behind her mug as Fin shot his mother adon’t think you’re off the hook because it’s a brand new daylook. ‘Not particularly. You?’
‘Oh, I slept like a baby.’
Fin gave a quiet, derisive snort. ‘I bet.’
Ignoring him, Ronnie glanced at Sweeney. ‘It’s so lovely hearing you both out here laughing. Just like old times.’
Yeah, except it wasn’t. They weren’t kids anymore, when a popper and a plate of Ronnie’s chocolate chip biscuits made them feel like kings. A lot had happened between then and now. Not least their fake engagement.
‘Your mum’s coming over at eight, Sweeney. I’m cooking pancakes. It’ll be so nice for all of us to catch up together without a crowd of people milling around.’
Ronnie beamed at them—shereallyhad slept like a baby.
Fin frowned. ‘Won’t that make you both late for church?’
Her smile slipped a little as she glanced away, suddenly fascinated by something in the garden. ‘We’re going to give it a miss this morning.’
