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CHAPTER FOUR

CATLIN

Having finished the Callaghan baptism programs for tomorrow and the time being so close to lunch, I head down to the nave in search of Uncle Sean to let him know I’m heading out for a little while.

After mass last weekend, I met a wonderful pregnant woman. She lived just outside Dublin for a few years but visited Galway quite often. The two of us clicked immediately and made plans for lunch today. She should be getting here any time now. When I reach the narthex, I find she has already arrived. She’s talking to a well-built man standing with his back to me, and her sleepy little girl is resting her head on his shoulder.

“Catlin.” A broad smile spreads over her face as she waves me over.

“Hey, Quinn.” I wave as I approach. “This must be your husb?—”

My words catch in my throat when he turns and I find myself face-to-face with the heavily tattooed man I bumped into a week ago.

“I wish.” He flashes a devilish grin at Quinn.

She playfully swats at his arm. “Catlin just met me. I really don’t need her thinking I’m sleeping with my husband’s brothers.”

“ Brother , because I wouldn’t be willing to share you. And no one said a thing about sleeping,” he teases.

She shakes her head with a smile. “Catlin, have you had the pleasure of meeting my relentless flirt of a brother-in-law?”

“Briefly,” he answers for me, a coy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “But definitely not for long enough.”

“The two of you are going to have a few more minutes to get acquainted then because I have to pee every five minutes these days,” Quinn excuses herself.

“We haven’t officially met.” He shuffles his hold on the sleeping little girl in his arms and outstretches his ink-covered hand. “I’m Finnigan Evans. Or Finn.”

Slipping my hand into his, a sensation like goosebumps—without the chill—travels up my arm. He squeezes it gently as I struggle to remember my name. “C-Catlin.”

“You’re new here, right?” As he continues to hold my hand, his thumb leisurely dragging along my skin. “I’ve been attending this church my whole life, and I know all the cailín deas that come here.”

“I bet you do,” I quip, pulling my palm from his.

“But definitely none pretty as you.” He softly exhales as his gaze lingers on mine before glancing down my body.

I’ve met plenty of men like Finnigan. Older men flirting with younger women like me are only interested in one thing. At least that’s what máthair chríonna would always say. That one thing definitely isn’t happening. Not with him. Not with anyone. Well, at least not until I’m married. Or at least until I’m with the man who plans to marry me.

That has to be good enough for God, right?

“Something tells me that I am definitely not the first girl you’ve said that to,” I snidely respond. “Probably not even the first one today.”

“Yeah.” He smirks, silently acknowledging the accuracy of my observation. With honest eyes and a sincere tone, he confesses, “But you, beautiful, are the first one I actually meant it to.”

Warm crimson creeps up my neck and over my cheeks. I drop my gaze to the floor, so I’m not looking him in the eyes when he realizes the effect he just had on me. Even with my eyes focused on the tiled floor beneath my feet, I know his heated gaze is still on my flushed cheeks.

“I’m so sorry. These babies and my bladder are fighting for space, and my bladder is definitely not winning.” Quinn returns, breaking the awkward silence. “Can you help get Fiona into the car?”

“I’m done giving Father O’Flaherty his heart attack for the week.” He chuckles. “Let me take her so you two can enjoy your lunch.”

“Are you sure?” Quinn asks.

“Always. I’ll steal your car seat and take my little peanut over to the club. You and Rory can swing by after your lunch to pick her up.”

She stretches up onto her toes and places a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

With Fiona in one arm, Finnigan uses his other to hold open the church door for the two of us to exit. As he walks her toward a sleek black sports car, he gestures toward a tall red-headed man standing near the black Tahoe parked beside him. The man reaches into the SUV and climbs out with a car seat in hand, which he promptly installs into the backseat of Finn’s car.

“Is your husband joining us for lunch?” I ask.

“Rory?” Her voice ticks up in confusion, and I give a quick nod. “He’s not my husband.”

“Oh,” I murmur as I climb into the backseat of the Tahoe.

After sliding in behind me, she clarifies, “Rory works for my husband and his brothers.”

“Like your driver?”

“And then some.” Quinn reaches between the seats and gives his arm a tender squeeze. “But he’s like family. Isn’t that right, Rory?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiles at her in the rearview.

“We’ve talked about this,” she teasingly scolds him. “After all we’ve been through, you get to call me Quinn.”

We make casual small talk as Rory drives us to a little cafe a few miles from the church. “You had said you were having a hard time meeting people, so I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a couple of people to join us.”

“I don’t mind at all!” I exclaim. “I’ve been here a little over a week and you are literally the only person I know besides Uncle Sean.”

While I love Uncle Sean to pieces, it would be nice to have someone just a tad closer to my age to spend some time with.