“Oh, you came, lad! I’m so glad!” His mom set a platter of appetizers on the island and wiped her hands on her apron, then quickly gave him a hug. He handed her the bottle of wine he’d brought.

“Ah, you didn’t need to do that,” she protested, but took it and slipped it into the refrigerator.

“Jameson’s?” Declan asked his son.

“Sure.” He accepted the glass of whiskey and leaned against the counter. His mom returned to the other side of the counter where she fussed with some vegetables, beneath the sign on the wall that said “Níl aon tintéan mar do thintéan féin”—there’s no place like home.

“How are you, Shane?” Maeve inquired, standing beside Keara. She wore an outrageous red, black and orange scarf draped around her neck. “No date tonight?”

Would she not leave him alone about that? Served him right for buying all those condoms, he supposed. He swallowed his sigh and smiled at her. “Not tonight.”

He greeted some of the other guests, neighbors and friends of his parents, some their age, some closer to his own age. As lively conversation flowed around them, he covertly studied Keara, until their glances collided then bounced away. Huh. She was doing the same thing.

She sipped her wine and he sipped his Jameson’s, letting it warm him inside while his dad shared a racy joke about an Irish priest that coaxed a real smile from Keara. He was glad she had a sense of humor.

He should know she did. It may have been thirteen years ago, but they’d shared a lot of laughs along with the hot sex. He and Keara had had a lot of fun together. Even though clearly she was a different woman than the young girl she’d been, someone didn’t change that drastically.

“Tell us about your day, Shane,” his mother invited, still fussing in the kitchen.

He shrugged. “Three-car pile-up on the freeway just outside of town. Thank the lord nobody was seriously hurt. Jim Mahon pulled over a man for drunk driving this afternoon. The guy tried to bribe him with his sandwich.”

Everyone laughed. “Sandwich?” Keara asked.

Shane grinned. “Yeah. He had a big sub wrapped up on the seat beside him and told Jim he could have it if he let him go home.”

“What kind of sub?” Da asked.

“Declan!” Ma gave his shoulder a tiny smack. “It doesn’t matter what kind of sandwich.”

Da grinned. “If it was one of those toasted ones from the Shamrock…”

“Declan!”

Shane grinned. “Jim turned down the offer. But he did say it made him hungry, and once he booked the guy he headed over to the Shamrock.”

More laughter.

“And what happened over on Ballycastle Road last night?” his dad inquired. “I heard the sirens. Was there a fire?”

Shane shook his head, another grin breaking out. “No. Some juveniles decided to have a pool party at a house that was for sale. Nobody was living there. They brought in a couple of kegs of beer and about fifty of their closest friends. The real estate agent brought someone by to show the house and got quite a surprise.”

“Oh dear lord!” Ma gasped. “What were those kids thinking?”

“They were thinking it was a great place for a pool party,” Shane said. He shouldn’t be amused, but none of the kids were known to them and luckily nothing had been damaged in the house, so it was just a crazy teenage escapade they’d have fun telling their grandchildren about one day. “I would never have done such a thing as a kid.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “No, certainly not. You only did crazy things like rolling the lawn tractor while you were plastered on tequila.”

Keara’s eyes widened as she looked from Shane to his mother. “I don’t think I heard that one,” she murmured. “Rolled the lawnmower?”

“I’d bought one of those nice John Deeres,” Da said, shaking his head with disgust. “He banjaxed it, totally, the eejit. And who in their right mind drinks tequila?” He glanced around the table in outrage. “Now if he’d been drinking whiskey…”

“Declan!”

Shane smothered a grin. His mother as usual was keeping his father in his place.

“You were a right chancer,” Declan continued. “The cops didn’t pick you up, and since nobody else got hurt we didn’t turn you in. Can you get charged with DUI on a lawnmower?”

Shane laughed. “Good question. Guess if I’d been caught, my career in law enforcement would have been down the toilet. But then again, I was a juvie.”

His mother gave a delicate snort. “Thank the good lord you weren’t killed, that’s what I say.”

Shane noted the way the laughter had brought a sparkle to Keara’s eyes and relaxed the pinched lines of her mouth.

His mother finished setting out a buffet dinner on the island and everyone filled their plates with roast beef and mashed potatoes and salads. Some stayed in the kitchen to eat standing, others wandered into the family room to sit with plates perched on their laps. Da had started some Celtic music in the CD player and the fiddle and tin whistle notes wove through the multiple conversations, deep voices and lilting laughter.

Shane elected to stay in the kitchen where Maeve and Keara sat on stools at the island. Keara didn’t eat much but she did give his mom’s roast beef high praise.

“I don’t know how you do it, Fiona,” Maeve said. “Almost every weekend you have a house full of people.”

Shane’s mom smiled. She loved it, he knew. She flitted from one room to the other, making sure wine and whiskey glasses were full, whisking away dishes that were done.

“Ma,” Shane said when she returned with hands full. “Sit down and eat.”

He gave her his stool and took the dishes from her, then strode over to the dishwasher. When he’d loaded them into the machine, he stood up and his gaze knocked up against Keara’s. A strange expression tilted the corners of her mouth up and had her eyes hazy.

“Keara, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you,” Fiona said. “Tell us all about life in LA.”

Keara gave a faint smile and dropped her gaze to her plate. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Your job keeps you busy,” Fiona said, with a nod. “No husband? No children?”

“No.”

“Maeve told us about your bank being robbed,” Fiona said and Shane saw Keara stiffen. She sure didn’t like to be reminded of that. But she was fine. Yeah, right. He got himself a beer out of the fridge—one whiskey was enough for him—and popped the top, again leaning against the counter.

“Yes.” She didn’t look up. Didn’t say another word.

Guests wandered back into the kitchen and the noise level rose several decibels. Da roared with laughter in the family room and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound. Now finished eating, everyone mingled and chatted. Except Keara, who remained on her stool, arms on the island, glass of wine between her hands. Deep in conversation with another friend, Maeve had stepped away.

Shane slid over onto the stool vacated by Maeve beside Keara.

“It’s women’s work to do the dishes after dinner,” his dad grumbled as Ma handed him a dish towel, earning him another smack.

“He just says that to push her buttons,” Shane said to Keara in a low voice. “He doesn’t really believe it. He helps with the dishes all the time.”

She grinned. “I’m glad you told me that.” She tipped her head to one side. “He must get that from you.”

“Get what?” Shane frowned. “The chauvinism?”

“No! I mean the pushing-buttons thing. You seem to be very skilled at that, too.”

He stared at her. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, you keep pushing my buttons by bugging me about how I’ve been derelict in my duty to my aunt. You know I feel bad about that, but you keep pushing my buttons anyway.”

Shane leaned in closer. “Do you? Feel bad about it?”

“Yes.” Her eyes lowered. “I didn’t realize she was having…problems until I got here. I guess I thought she would just always stay the same. Crazy, energetic Maeve.”

He nodded and straightened slowly. A strand of hair hung in front of her eyes and he reached out, and with his index finger, pushed it back. Their eyes met and the boisterous crowd around them faded to a murmur.