Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance Jamie Knight (books to read to be successful TXT) 📖

manifesting thoughts into physical existence, and then took the time to cast them into the physical world, made it feel more special. It was almost like casting a spell. Sending hope to the universe.

I didn’t know if I would ever see him again, but his stated certainty, combined with his chosen medium, made me wonder if I just might. I wasn’t really the type to keep the faith.

Usually, my philosophy was that things just happened, or they didn’t, and I did my best to handle life, whichever way it went. But this time felt different. Because for some reason, no matter how crazy it might be, I had faith in Sean MacBride.

Chapter Five - Sean

I was never a morning person, at least not by God-given nature. I had to be up early most days to open the shop, though. I could have asked one of my employees, but I liked to do it myself. To take responsibility of propriety and all that.

There were those business owners who hired staff, so they didn’t have to do anything. I preferred to be right here on the ground, doing as much of the work as I could myself.

It was at least partly the semi-communist attitude that came almost naturally from a blue-collar area. Some people resorted to less than honest means but were generally looked down on as ‘chiselers’ and ‘skivers’ by the rest of the community, which was nearly as bad as being a snitch.

I had no great love for meat. In fact, it took some getting used to, but I did love working with my hands, and the butcher shop was for sale at a price I could afford when teamed with my mate Duncan, who was even more into the idea than I was.

To call Duncan an exclusive carnivore would be an exaggeration, though only slightly. He did eat fruits and vegetables, but mostly as an afterthought.

He’d gotten a nasty case of salmonella poisoning while I was at the wedding and ended up in the hospital. Unbeknownst to Duncan, a new employee had set raw chicken on top of steak filets before putting them out on display. Since Duncan eats steak rare, the cooking process didn’t kill any of the bacteria associated with the raw chicken.

When I got back to Ireland from the States, I’d closed the shop for a few days, thrown out all of our stock, and then had the entire shop scrubbed down. Those measures weren’t necessary, but better safe than sorry.

The last thing we needed was a reputation for bad hygiene. Duncan was fine now, and his bout in the hospital hadn’t ended his love affair with steak.

Now, the coffee maker did its little gurgle dance on the counter, and the microwave flashed an obscenely early time. One I didn’t even know existed until I was about ten.

Still, I tried to put myself in a positive mood. It was a happy day, after all.

Filled with food and fueled with caffeine, I drove to the airport. There was barely another car on the road, which gave the whole town a slightly creepy feeling of a zombie apocalypse film.

Gavin and Maggie would be exhausted when they landed, and I wanted to be there when they arrived. Of course, I was looking forward to seeing them, but more than that, I wanted to ask about Darcy. I wanted to know if she’d talked about me, or maybe she’d sent a letter over.

With a bit of blessed luck, I found parking with no great trouble.

The international arrivals terminal had a particular smell. One not found anywhere else in the world. It was a heady mix of industrial-grade cleaning products, anticipation, and hope.

I paced like a tiger in a cage, not quite sure what to do with myself as I waited. I imagined Darcy walking off the plane and running into my arms and saying she couldn’t spend another second without me.

That was wishful thinking, and I knew it. Yet I couldn’t stop it and didn’t even want to. Darcy had completely taken over my headspace ever since I had met her.

I could see the plane through the window. The pilot seemed to be taking his sweet time taxiing to the gate.

The torture continued as the passengers piled into the arrival’s hall, my gaze scanning each of their faces like The Terminator, disappointed when none of them turned out to be who I was looking for.

“Hey, little bro,” a voice I knew nearly as well as my own said from behind me.

Wide-eyed, I spun around.

“How did, where—”

Gavin dragged me into a hug.

“Our flight got bumped. We’ve been here about an hour or so. Nice to see you’re on time.”

“Where is your beautiful wife?” I asked, stepping away from him.

“In the lounge, last I checked. She said she wanted to get a view of the city.”

“In the distance, maybe,” I conceded. “But you can’t see it very well from here.”

“That’s what I told her, but she insisted.”

“There’s something to be said for enthusiasm,” I offered.

“Certainly, not all of it good, but that is definitely true.”

I laughed.

“Regretting it already?”

“Oh, hell no. We’re well aware of each other’s foibles. Honestly, I find her enthusiasm almost endearing.”

“Shall we go find her?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Probably a good idea. Don’t want her getting lost in the gift shop and buying all sorts of Irish tourist shite.”

We found Maggie in the lounge, stuck to the window like one of those accessories with suction cups people put in car windows— Garfields and Mogwais grinning out at passing motorists.

“Maggie, good to see you,” I called out.

“Hey!”

She leapt up from the chair she had been kneeling on and hugged me most enthusiastically. I was glad we got along so well already. In-laws always seemed like such a crapshoot