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“He’ll shoot to start them racing,” Róisín explained. “And then one shot when the winner crosses the line.”

Fiona hurried up to them, her curls even wilder than usual in the wind. “I haven’t missed it, have I?”

“No, they’re just setting up,” Róisín said.

“Good. Owen’s popping into the pub and then he’ll be down.”

It was a bit weird standing next to Niall’s mom feeling all the feelings Cordelia felt about Niall. She excused herself as Niall’s father came up, pretending she needed to get some pictures from the other end of the harbor, all the while mulling about these new, strange, wonderful and confusing feelings she’d developed.

She was attracted to Niall. She wanted more than just friendship with him. There it was. She had to admit it head-on. But it was delicate as a soap bubble—giving words to this thing growing inside her chest might pop it. What if Niall didn’t feel the same way? No matter what Alison or Róisín might say, they weren’t him. They didn’t know.

She hopped up onto the harbor wall. The currachs were lining up along a rope strung out from the pier—she zoomed in on number 4. Niall was seated at the stern of the boat, Alison in the middle, Colin by the prow. The water was choppy and growing rougher by the minute. Cordelia glanced at the tugboat, grateful for its presence. She took a shot of the onlookers, crowded around the harbor in windbreakers and thick woolen hats. You’d never guess it was June, Cordelia thought wryly.

Róisín was gesturing to her to come join them, so she jumped down off the wall.

She got there just as Brogan fired the rifle and the race began.

“Go number four!” Fiona cried out as the currachs began to slice through the water, the long wooden oars cutting into the waves, the boats rocking from side to side.

“Come on, Alison!” Róisín cried.

“Pick up the pace, Colin, you reedy bastard,” Owen shouted.

“I don’t like the look of those waves,” Róisín said darkly.

“They’ll be fine,” Owen said. “Niall knows what he’s doing.”

“Does he now?” Róisín said sardonically. “You might try telling him that to his face every once in a while.”

“Where are they going?” Cordelia asked, searching for the finish line. She didn’t like the look of the waves either—she didn’t know anything about currach racing, but the way the boats were tilting side to side was making her uneasy.

“They circle the harbor there,” Owen said, pointing. “And then go round that buoy and back to where Brogan stands.”

It looked to be a long way. Niall’s boat was definitely lagging behind. Currach number 2 was well ahead of the rest as they reached the buoy.

“It’ll be the Inisheer lads winning again this year,” Owen said, shaking his head. He kissed Fiona on the temple. “I’m off back to the pub.”

Cordelia’s fingers were getting cold, her knuckles stiff. She blew on them to keep warm, then lifted her camera to her eye so she could see Niall more clearly. The wind had picked up and the waves were growing foamy and white-tipped. Through her lens she saw him shout something to Alison. Alison turned to say something to Colin just as a wave swept up against the side of the boat. Cordelia watched in frozen panic as the currach vanished from sight behind a wall of water.

Then the wave sank back into the sea and there were only two people in the currach instead of three.

16

“Niall!”

Cordelia barely registered it was she who was screaming before she sprang into action, adrenaline flooding her veins. She thought she heard Fiona shout, but Cordelia was already gone, pushing through the crowd to get to the pier. She reached the steps and stumbled down them as she heard someone shout, “Look! They’ve got him!”

She spared half a second to watch Colin and Alison haul Niall up out of the water by his life preserver, the tugboat coming alongside them—then she was running again. Her boots slapped against the cement as she rocketed down the pier. It seemed to take forever; the pier was like an endless stretch of road jutting out into the ocean and Cordelia couldn’t run fast enough. The tugboat pulled up and Brogan grabbed the ropes as other men jumped off the boat to secure it—but Cordelia only had eyes for Niall.

He was wrapped in a heavy blanket and Alison was helping him off the tugboat and onto the pier.

“Niall!” Cordelia cried again and without stopping to pause or think or consider, she flung herself into his arms and pressed her mouth against his. He was frigidly cold, his body shaking, and she kissed him like she could breathe her own warmth into him, her fingers tangled in his cold, wet hair. His lips were icy but they melted against hers, soft and eager. His hands came up to press against her back. He tasted like the sea.

From somewhere at the edge of her consciousness, Cordelia heard the sounds of cheering. Niall gave a deep, shuddering breath and Cordelia went absolutely rigid. There were people watching. Tons of people. People she knew. People Niall knew. Niall’s mom.

Cordelia felt the blush run from her scalp all the way to her toes.

“I should get myself dumped in the ocean more often,” Niall murmured in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.