Love and Blarney Read Online Free PDF Page B

the display. “Shea? We’ve got her. She’s down in the south meadow by the water trough.”
    The cow was immobile, possibly mired in mud. “What do we do?” Jayme craned her neck to get a better view.
    “You do nothing. Let me and Shea deal with her.”
    A few minutes later, Shea ran down the track to join them, spraying mud with every step. “Damn,” he said, staring through the binoculars. “She’s stuck, but not too deep, thank feck.”
    Ruairí turned to her, his mouth a hard line, and worry lines etched by the corners of his eyes. “Wait here. We’ll try to get her out.”
    Twenty excruciating minutes later, Ruairí and Shea had part coaxed, part dragged a very reluctant Daisy back to the cowshed.
    Sharon was waiting for them by Daisy’s stall. She fussed over the cow upon her arrival, cooing to her as though she were a baby. Within a few minutes, Daisy had been rubbed down, covered in a warm blanket, and supplied with food and water.
    Outside the shabby cowshed, the gray sky showed cracks of blue. Jayme glanced around. The farmyard was small and consisted of four buildings in various stages of collapse. Snorting was audible from one of the smaller buildings. She wandered over to investigate.
    The heel of one of her boots caught between the cobblestones. One second, she was upright. The next, she was nose first in the mud. Nose first in particularly foul-smelling mud… “Oh, fff—”
    Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been dining on sushi in one of Manhattan’s most exclusive restaurants. Today, she was ass over heels in an Irish farmyard, her face stuck in a pile of cow excrement. How had this happened to her? Oh, yeah… a brush with death and a rush of blood to the head. In short, she’d lost what vestiges of sanity she still possessed.
    “Cow shite,” said a thunderous voice from above.
    Jayme pushed herself up to her elbows and sneezed.
    A wild-haired man loomed over her, brandishing a walking stick. “Who the hell are you? And what the fuck are you doing on my farm?”
    Ruairí emerged from the cowshed, Shea at his heels. “Back off, Da. Aren’t you supposed to be in Mallow?”
    The man with the stick glared at them. “The roads were flooded. I had to turn back.” He gestured at Jayme with his walking stick. “I don’t like trespassers on my property.”
    “She’s not a trespasser. She’s with me.” Grabbing her arm, Ruairí hauled her to her feet in one fluid movement. He fished in his coat pocket and produced a clean tissue. “For your face.” She noted both his protective stance toward her and the belligerent look he was directing at his father.
    The older man spat on the ground. “If she’s with you, take her away. I don’t want any friend of yours on my farm. And take yourself away while you’re at it.”
    “Steady on. Jayme’s my guest.”
    “On my farm. You’ve stolen my pub. You needn’t think you’ll get the farm as well.”
    Ruairí rolled his eyes. “I bought the pub off you and Ma—lock, stock, and Guinness barrel. And I paid well over the going rate.”
    Colm Senior’s nostrils flared, and his bloodshot eyes bulged. “Get off my land, the pair of you.”
    Ruairí’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “Come on. Let’s get you home for a shower.”
    “Bye, Jayme,” Sharon said from the entrance to the cowshed. “Nice to meet you.”
    “And you.” Jayme swallowed something and winced at the taste.
    Shea nodded to her but remained silent, his wary eyes trained on his father.
    When they reached the car, she turned to Ruairí. “Aren’t you going to tell your mother that Daisy is safe?”
    He shook his head. “Better get going before my father comes up to the house. We can call in on her another day.”
    Jayme slid into the passenger seat, still trembling with shock and fury. “What a horrible man.”
    He gave a bitter laugh and started the ignition. “Believe it or not, you got him on a good day.”
    “Seriously? How did you put up with such