he was going to have to decide which mattered more—protecting himself from her prying or accepting her into his heart.
* * *
“You weren’t in there long,” Colleen commented, after Maggie had retrieved the bag of used maternity clothes, given them to Ryan and said goodbye. She had noticed that he’d kept a careful distance between himself and the car once he’d realized that her sister was waiting for her.
“Long enough,” Maggie said, satisfied with herself. The meeting had gone precisely the way she’d hoped it would. She had stayed just long enough to remind Ryan that she intended to be a part of his life—at least for the immediate future—but had left before he’d grown weary of her. And with his reluctance so apparent, she hadn’t pressed him to say hello to Colleen. Contact with her family seemed to disturb him, either because he was fearful of getting too involved or because seeing them brought back too many painful memories of the family he’d lost.
“What did he think of all the baby things?” Colleen asked.
“I think he was dumbfounded.”
“Clever of you to find a way to plant the notion of babies in his head. Now he won’t be able to look at you without thinking about having a baby of his own.”
“Colleen, that is not what this was about,” Maggie protested. “Those baby clothes were for Rosita.”
Colleen grinned. “But isn’t it nice that they served your purposes, as well?”
“I am not scheming to plant ideas in Ryan’s head,” Maggie insisted.
“Oh, really?”
“Really!”
“Well, intended or not, I’m sure it did the trick. I imagine he’s thinking of you in a whole new way now.”
“Pregnant?” Maggie asked skeptically. “I doubt that. And don’t you think it’s a giant leap, anyway? He hasn’t even so much as asked me out on a date.”
“But you want him to,” Colleen guessed.
Maggie thought of the way she felt every time
Ryan’s blue-eyed gaze settled on her. “Yes, I want him to. He’s a very mysterious, complicated man, and you know how I enjoy unraveling a puzzle.”
“And if he doesn’t ask you out?”
Maggie shrugged. “He owns a pub. I can pretty much see him whenever I want to.”
Colleen seemed surprised by her response. “You would do that? You’d just hang around the pub until he notices you?”
“I might. It’s a great place. You should have come in with me just now. Even at this hour the jukebox was playing and there were groups of people laughing.”
“I figured three would be a crowd.”
“Well, if you had come in, you’d know what I’m talking about. I felt right at home there the second I walked in the other night. It’s not like some sleazy bar. It’s just the way Mom and Dad have always described the pubs in Ireland.”
“I can’t wait to hear what Mom and Dad are going to have to say about this. You know how Dad always warned us to steer clear of bars.”
“You’ll never meet the man of your dreams in a bar,” they both said in a chorus.
Maggie laughed. “How could I forget? But how can they object with Father Francis sitting right there most evenings? Besides, didn’t you pay attention to what I said not five seconds ago? This is a pub, not a bar—there’s a difference.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I sit in while you try explaining that to Dad,” Colleen said.
“Dad’s already well aware of the difference, so I won’t even try explaining it to him. Besides, I’ve always believed in being honest with Mom and Dad about what I’m doing, and expecting them to trust my judgment. They usually do.”
“So when are you going back? Tonight?”
Maggie shook her head. “Even I know that’s too soon. I thought I’d give Ryan a day or two to wonder what’s happened to me. I’m thinking I’ll go back the first of the week. Want to come along for a girls’ night out?”
“Something tells me Daniel would object to baby-sitting so I could go hang out with you while you try to pick up a man. If you need a chaperone, take Katie.”
Maggie thought of the way her sister had practically swooned at the sight of Ryan. “Never mind.”
Colleen shot a knowing look at her. “She’s your sister. She would never try to steal your guy.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about. Have you taken a good look at our baby sister? She’s gorgeous, something she doesn’t even realize.”
“And you think Ryan might prefer her?” Colleen asked. “Come on, Mags. He never even gave her a second glance yesterday.”
Maggie regarded her sister with surprise. “He didn’t?”
“Sweetie, he never took his eyes off you. Didn’t you know that?”
Maggie shook her head. “I had no idea. I thought maybe I was fighting an uphill battle.”
“You may be,” Colleen warned. “He doesn’t strike me as someone who wants to fall in love. He may not even believe in it.”
“That’s what Father Francis said, as a matter of fact,” Maggie admitted.
“Well then, at least you know what you’re up against. But a powerful attraction has a way of making a man take risks he never intended. It’s all a matter of patience and persistence.”
“I was blessed with one—” she thought of her total lack of patience “—but definitely not the other.”
“Then Ryan promises to be good for you in more ways than one, doesn’t he? Just keep reminding yourself—if he’s the one, then he’s worth waiting for.”
“You might have to do the reminding,” Maggie said.
Her sister chuckled. “Oh, sweetie, that will be my pleasure.”
* * *
Throughout what seemed like the longest weekend on record, Ryan’s gaze kept drifting toward the door each time it opened. He kept expecting—hoping—to see Maggie coming in with each blast of icy air. He was so obvious that there was little chance that Father Francis or Rory hadn’t taken note of him doing it, but they’d remained oddly silent.
Monday the pub was closed. That was the day Ryan usually spent running errands and catching up on paperwork, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate today. He finally gave up in disgust around four-thirty and headed out to take a brisk walk to clear his head. Maybe that would push images of Maggie out of it.
Instead, when he opened the door, he bumped straight into her. He stood there staring like an awkward teenager. “Maggie, what are you doing here?”
She swallowed hard and backed up a step. “I came by for a cup of coffee or two. I’m freezing.”
“The bar’s closed today, but I’d be happy to fix you one,” Ryan said, stepping aside to let her in.
“Closed?” she asked blankly.
He grinned. “As in not open for business,” he explained patiently. He pointed toward the carved wooden sign posted by the door, where it plainly stated that the pub was closed on Mondays.
“Oh,” she said, her cheeks flaming. “I never even looked at the sign. I just assumed, I guess, that you were open every day, but of course you’d need time off. I’ll come back another time.” She whirled around.
“Maggie?”
“Yes.”
“I