~Brigid~

Brigid was still thinking of the wolf when she made her way around the small town of Kilglas. She needed to stock up on a few staples, as well as what she needed to get the cabin into real working and living order. But the morning had left her a little shellshocked.

The wolf had been even more beautiful in the clear view of the yard and it was definitely a wolf — she's certain of that, now. The reddish brown fur complimented the greenery like early Fall leaves. Its piercing eyes had made her freeze where she stood, the door wide open to let the morning chill into the house. Maybe she'd take the time to stop by the local library or bookstore. Someone has to know that there's a wolf living in the nearby woods and everyone knows bookstores hold all of the secrets no one wants to tell.

Stopping in front of a hardware and garden store, Brigid let the bags weighing her arms down drop to the pavement with a groan. She really needed to consider getting a small car or something that could transport more than the old bike she found in the shed that morning. She already didn't know how she was going to get all of these supplies back to the cabin. She just needed to inquire about a thatcher for the roof, it was the last thing on her mental list for the day. The wolf could wait — it clearly wasn't going anywhere. And neither was the hour long bike ride she had ahead of her to get back home.

"Alright, come on, Brigid. Woman up." She mumbled lowly to herself as she gathered her strength to lift the bags again. With more work than she felt necessary, she managed to lift them all back up with minimal noise. That is until one of the bags snapped and sent canned foods rolling across the sidewalk.

Great. Just great. She really should've splurged for those canvas bags at the grocery store.

"Whoa, easy there! Looks like you could use a hand."

Lifting her eyes from the disaster in front of her, she was already prepared to send whatever man decided that she needed help on his way. Not that she couldn't use an extra hand right now but that wasn't the point. Her Gran always taught her to be able to handle everything a man could — and then some. She could handle picking up her own groceries off the road. But the words died on her tongue when her eyes landed on the owner of the voice.

Muscular thighs in well-fitted jeans led up to a smiling man in a short green coat. His light brown hair was just long enough that bits fell into his eyes as he leaned down to pick up a rolling can. A short beard covered his face, accentuating his sharp jaw line. Hazel eyes that seemed to catch what little sun there was met Brigid's as he looked up.

"We'll have these gathered up in no time. Might need to fetch you another bag though."

Shaking herself out of whatever stupor she'd been put under, Brigid quickly set the remaining bags down to help catch the wayward cans. "Oh, you don't have to do that, really. I'm just clumsy." No, she isn't. Why did she say that?

The man's slightly chapped lips quirked into a small smile, "Of course not. But I can't just pass a lady up who's having trouble keeping track of her groceries." The little smile turned up at the corners more. Damn it, he had a nice smile.

Clearing her throat, she snagged another can out from under the shop's display. "Yes, well. Thank you." Straightening to her full five-foot-two-inches, it became immediately clear that this man was a good six-foot. She barely came up to his chest. And why in the goddess's name did that realization make her legs turn to jelly? It's not like she's suddenly become short! She's been short her entire life! Giving herself another mental shake, Brigid transferred the cans into a new bag so she could take the ones from the very-nice-looking stranger.

Handing the cans over with nothing more than another stupid smile, the man gestured to the mass of bags. "You're new in town, aren't ya? You that American girl old Mr. Mathers dropped off in the middle of the Bally Glen Forest?"

She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks, damn her sensitive skin. She knew she must be as bright as a tomato. Playing with the Celtic pattern ring on her thumb, she chewed her bottom lip before saying, "Not much goes unsaid around here, huh?"

The light danced in his eyes and a barely contained chuckle was hidden in his words. "No, not much."

Pursing her lips, Brigid willed her cheeks to stop burning. "Well, in that case, know any good thatchers around here? My old family home could use a new roof."

A strange sort of look passed over the man's face but it was gone before Brigid could decipher it. A short burst of a laugh broke free from his chest, his eyes looked skyward for a moment before meeting her's once more. "What a coincidence. I happen to be the best thatcher in town." A small shrug, "I also happen to be the only one. But that's besides the point."

Of course, he was. What were the odds? Brigid briefly considered that he was just a lying ass but she didn't really see any reason why he would be. Everyone in this town was abnormally sweet and helpful — well, abnormal for this Connecticut girl.

As if sensing her unease, the man took a step back, giving her more space on the sidewalk. Outstretching his hand, he made a slight bow with his head. "Torin Boyle, at your service. My father was a thatcher before me; taught me everything I know. You can confirm my identity inside."

Glancing from the store front to Torin's hand, Brigid released the tension she had been holding in her shoulders. Placing her hand in his ( and not at all acknowledging how tiny it was compared to his ) she shook it. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Torin. I'm Brigid Kelly." A strange sort of tingle went up Brigid's arm from where Torin's warm hand met hers. But by the way her traitorous body had been acting since their meeting, she tried to ignore it.

The same look as before flashed across Torin's face and it was gone just as quickly. He released her hand and then gestured to the bags on the ground around her. "If you'd like, I have the time today, I could follow you to your family's cabin and take a look at the roof? I can have an estimate for you then."

Straight down to business, right. Brigid opened her mouth to respond and was promptly reminded by her own brain that she rode a rickety old bike into town. Snapping her mouth closed again, her bottom lip was between her teeth in an instant. "Uh, well, you see...I rode my bike into town. So that would be an awfully long drive for you."

His brows pulled together and his lips turned down in a frown. "You road a bike all the way from the Bally Glen Forest? How do you plan to get all of those bags home with you?"

She pursed her lips, letting her eyes wander. "Very carefully?"

Shaking his head, Torin was already leaning down for the bags before Brigid even realized what was happening. "I have a truck. I'll give you a ride. We can put the bike in the back, too." With the bags in his arms he turned and headed into the road, towards an old red truck. Brigid was sure she heard him say something about crazy women under his breath.

Catching up to him in a few running steps, she tried to gain some semblance of honor back. "I could've gotten everything there myself, thank you. I didn't need anyone's help until that bag broke. I would've managed."

Her bags disappeared into the bed of the truck, Torin tucking them securely around other things he had back there. When he was seemingly satisfied, he turned to her with a raised brow. "I wasn't trying to insult your capabilities. But I'd be hard pressed to believe that it wouldn't have taken you half the day to get back with all of this. And that's if more bags didn't break." He walked around the back of his truck, Brigid following behind him with her brows pulled together, and pulled open the passenger side door. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady. Let's go get your bike."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Brigid sighed. She wouldn't admit it out loud but she knew he was right. It had been a poor laid plan from the get go. It was already midday by the sun's location, she was exhausted from jet lag and hungry. Besides, if he was going to be fixing her roof, the least she could be would be friendly. With a steadying breath, Brigid climbed into the truck.

~~~

Not that she's familiar with rides from strangers, but as they would go, this one wasn't so bad. Torin was friendly enough, although he kept looking at her when she wasn't looking in his direction. It was beginning to unnerve her a little bit. It bugged her enough that just as they were driving out of town she'd let her magic flow from her and over to him, just to see if his intentions were ill-placed. But there was no wrong intentions to his aura that she could detect. In fact, his aura seemed unnaturally bright to her senses. Most people's was dulled down by the world around them but Torin's shown brightly like a star. Maybe there was more to this friendly stranger than meets the eye.

"You're American. Where about's in the country are you from?"

His voice took her attention away from the passing hills and into the cab of the truck again. She eyed him a moment, noting the slight pinch in his brow that hadn't been there when they started their journey. "New England. Connecticut." He made a noise in the back of his throat, nodding his head slowly. Brigid couldn't stop the smile from breaking out. "You have no idea where that is, do you?"

Scoffing, Torin glanced at her with brows pulled even tighter together before focusing on the winding road again. "I do, in fact, know where New England is, thank you very much." He cocked his head to one side; a brow making an arc up for a brief moment. "I just might not know which one is Connecticut."

Brigid isn't even remotely surprised. Most people don't know where Connecticut is on the map of the States. Hell, half of the American population probably don't even know. Smiling, she looked back out the window beside her. "I figured. Most people don't."

Silence filled the cab for a few minutes, the only minute sounds coming from their own breaths and the truck's engine. Torin seemed to fidget in his seat for a moment before saying, "So what brought you all the out to County Mayo? You said this was family property?"

Humming an affirmative, Brigid played with the ring on her thumb as they passed a field full of sheep, their little lambs lumps of white in the tall grass as they slept. "From what I know, it's been in my family for generations. My Great Uncle was the last person to live in it but he passed on twenty some years ago now. My Gran always wanted to make it out here again but then she got sick." Her mouth closed with a shrug of her shoulders. Part of her brain telling her to shut up, that this stranger doesn't really care. But before she knew what she was doing, she spoke again. "I decided to come and check on it. Make sure it'll stay in the family for a long time." Partially the truth. It was all the truth he needed to know, anyway.

"I'm sorry about your grandmother." He sounded so sincere that Brigid had to turn to look at him to see if he looked it, too. His lips pulled down in a frown, barely perceptible through the short cut beard but enough.

Unsure of the reasons behind his frown — but also not wanting to pry — Brigid offered a small, tight-lipped smile. "Thank you." With a steadying breath, she looked back out the window and sat up straighter. "Oh, you should probably pull off the road up ahead. There's a path through the field and into the woods."

"Oh, yes, of course." He cleared his throat as he pulled the truck into the small shoulder of the road. It was really just a gravel patch where the grasses had been pushed back over the years, but it was big enough for Torin's truck to fit.

Once the engine was shut off, Brigid opened her door and slid out of the truck, her boots hitting the gravel with a crunch. Torin came around the back, lifting Brigid's bike out of the bed like it weighed nothing. And no, she did not look at the way his biceps strained in his jacket when he did it. In no time at all, Torin had all of Brigid's shopping bags hanging off his arms and gestured for her to lead the way.

Slightly taken aback, and not about to let him try and be all manly and carry all of the bags for her, Brigid put a hand on her hip. "I can help you carry that stuff, you know."

Instead of responding, he offered up the same smile he'd given her back in town. He nodded to the bike, "You take that. I've got these. Now let's go, before we loose any more daylight."

Pursing her lips, Brigid really wanted to argue harder. She could put at least a few of the bags in the basket on the handlebars! Instead, she decided that she'd let him suffer through the short hike with all of those bags that he so desperately wanted to carry. He'd give into her eventually. Shrugging a shoulder at him, she steered the bike towards the path in the foliage. "Come on, then. Let's get moving if you're so concerned about the time."