Page 49 of Beneath the Quiet

I raise my eyes in question.

“For the Cloonmara Spring Rising Festival, of course.”

“Oh. Oooh.” I click my tongue. “I’ve heard of that one. It’s only a few weeks away, isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm. We need to make sure everyone hears about it, so I’m off to Kinsale today to pass these out. Then I’ll drive to Cork later in the week.”

I smile. “Don’t forget to leave a stack of them with Franny. She’ll find a spot in our reception.”

Roísin beams at me. “Ah, thanks. You’re a sweetheart. Where are you off to?”

I tip my head to her bakery. “I need something sweet for my afternoon visit.”

“Which is where?”

I blow a raspberry. “You’re nosy.”

She rolls her eyes. “Village life, remember?”

“Ah. Katie and Aidan asked me to visit Lynch Farm today. Thought I’d pick up a snack or two for us.”

Her mouth forms an O. “Whoa. Are you and Aidan dating?”

“What?” I shriek. “No! Absolutely not.”

She throws me a look, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Really?”

“Really. Don’t you remember that Katie asked me if I wanted to see the animals?”

Her shoulders sag. “Crap. Yeah, I remember now.”

I pull my brows together. “What do you mean?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Sorry, I forgot. We’ve got some nice lemon tarts in the shop. I’m trying out a new recipe, and I’d love for you to let me know what you think of them.”

“Are they going to go straight to my hips?”

She grins. “Probably more like your bum.”

I grin at her. “Fine. I’ll burn off the calories tonight, then. Lead the way.”

She puts the basket down and walks back to the shop. “Do you need coffee as well?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

“I’ll get you a latte macchiato today. And the boring one for Aidan, I take it?”

“Yup. No surprise there. I’ll have a pop for Katie as well, please.”

“Got it.”

Before long, I’m back on the street, my tarts and drinks safely in a large paper bag. There’s a faint scent of sea salt in the air, teasing my nostrils, and everywhere I look, there are signs of spring giving way to summer. The closer I get to the Lynch farm, the more anxiety coils in my stomach, making it so much harder to relax. If this burning attraction would just stop tripping me up, it would be so much simpler.

But it seems my life isn’t supposed to be simple, no matter how hard I try.

I round the bend in the road and come face to face with a massive log burned with the words Lynch Farm in black, swirly script. I shuffle closer to it and let my fingers run lightly across the L. It’s sturdy, solid. It fits its owner. My lips pull up at the corners, and I square my shoulders. I have to treat my attraction towards Aidan as just another challenge to overcome, and then I’ll be fine.

The gravel driveway isn’t long, but it winds in a wide curve, opening up to a generous-sized courtyard with the main house situated in the middle. The style resembles Rose Hill, only on a much larger scale and with grey slates instead of a thatched roof. I walk towards the main door and admire the whitewashed house with the almost doll-house-like windows filled with pots of flowers spilling out and down the walls. It’s the first time I’ve seen the farm in daylight, and I almost feel that there’s an aura of old tales surrounding it, as if the bricks could tell a pleasant story about the past. I crane my neck to take in as much of the two-story house as I can.