"I should probably just wait in the car," I mumbled, hardly able to look him in the eyes. "I don’t want to be intruding – unlike my idiot brother who apparently has no qualms about walking into stranger's houses and eating their food."
"Firstly, I'm not a stranger to you, and you're not intruding on me," Johnny corrected gruffly as rain pelted down on us both. "Secondly, I'm inviting you into my house," he added, running a hand through his now-soaked hair. "You're getting soaked." His gaze traveled over me once more before he inclined his head towards the house. "I want you to come inside."
"Are you sure?" I croaked out.
He nodded slowly. "Absolutely."
"Um, okay," I whispered uncertainly. "If you're sure that you're sure?"
"I'm sure that I'm sure," Johnny quipped. "Come on."
Johnny spun around and hurried over to the front door, only to turn around and jog back to where I was rooted to the ground.
He placed his hands on my shoulders and walked me into the house.
"See?" he coaxed when we were both inside with the huge door closed behind us. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?"
I shook my head.
Johnny shook himself down like a dog would, causing rain drops to splatter everywhere.
"You laughing at me, Shannon like the river?" he teased, noticing my smile.
I shook my head again.
He smiled one of the big, double-dimpled smiles that caused my heart to spazz out before gesturing for me to follow him down the long entrance hall and into a spacious foyer with two huge archways on either side of the room, leading god knows where.
Careful to keep my lips mashed together – and not let my mouth fall open like I wanted to – I took in the enormous staircase that took center stage, with its intricate wooden balusters with the little lion heads carved on top.
My gaze trailed upwards to the top of the staircase where both sides of the landing was clearly visible through the wooden banister rails that eventually joined the wall on either side.
"It's an old house," Johnny said by way of explanation. "Like a hundred and fifty years or something." He looked uncomfortable as he spoke. "My mother didn’t want to change the original design too much when we bought it. We renovated most of the rooms and put in a new kitchen, but Mam wanted to keep some of the original parts." Shrugging, he added, "She says the place has character or some shite like that."
"She's right," I breathed, doing a full 360 turn so I could take in the ridiculously tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers. "I think you could fit my entire house in this hall."
"Johnny!" Gibsie's voice thundered from the archway on the left. "Grub's up.”
"Are you hungry?" Johnny asked as he led me down the long hallway to the door at the end. "Knowing Gibsie, he's after frying the contents of the fridge."
I shook my head, my arms moving to wrap around my body almost protectively, as I trailed after him. "I'm okay."
The moment Johnny pushed the door of the kitchen open, we were bathed in sunlight and the delicious aroma of rashers cooking.
"Hey – it's little Shannon," Gibsie chirped, turning from his position at an impressive looking stove range to smile and wave a spatula at me. "Did Johnny manage to coax you inside, or was it the smell of my fucking amazing cooking that drew you in?"
"It's raining," I mumbled, biting back a shiver as the dampness from my clothes began to seep into my skin.
"You cooked one egg, Gibs, under my supervision," Joey, who was sitting on a stool at the center island, piped up. "You're no Darina Allen."
"Thank fuck for that, Lynchy." With the frying pan in his hand, Gibsie walked over to where my brother was sitting and slapped an egg onto his plate. "I like my man parts."
Reaching across the counter, Joey retrieved the tea-cozy covered teapot and poured two cups of tea before swinging the pot in our direction. "Shan, Kavs, tea?"
Gibs?
Lynchy?
Kavs?
This was typical Joey – sparking up a friendship as easily as he could snap his fingers.
A sudden jolt of jealousy burned inside of me, the unfairness of how easy life was for my brother making me feel hard done by.
That tinge of jealously was quickly doused out by the huge tsunami of guilt that enveloped me.
Joey didn’t have anything easy.
He made the best of every situation.
He was just trying to survive like the rest of us.
"Can I get you a towel or something?" Johnny offered in a low tone, gaze trailing over me. Frowning, he added, "You're soaked."
"Holy shit," Joey barked then, startling me. "What in the name of Jesus happened to you?"
Setting the teapot down, he stood up and stalked towards me.
Leaning closer, Joey took a whiff of me and then quickly backed away.
"Jesus Christ, Shannon," he gagged. "What did you roll in – dog shit?"
Wow, tactful, big brother, thanks a lot…
"No!" I balked and then tried to sniff myself inconspicuously. "I don’t smell."
"You don’t smell?" Joey shot back mockingly. "You're so ripe my eyes are watering."
God, Joey!
"My dogs mauled her," Johnny quickly interjected, running another hand through his hair. Droplets of water continued to drip from his broad shoulders to the tiles on the floor as he spoke. "They knocked her down outside and rolled all over her."
"Huh," my brother bit out. "Funny how my sister always seems to get mauled and knocked around when you're near her, Kavanagh."
Johnny's jaw ticked, but he didn’t respond.
Turning his attention to me, Joey said, "You need to get out of those wet clothes, Shan, before you get pneumonia."
I opened my mouth to respond, but my brother continued without giving me a chance.
"Do you have something she can throw on?" Joey asked, looking to Johnny. "Or some bleach to mask that god-awful smell?"
Johnny nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can find something –"
"Or we can just leave?" I offered, glaring at my brother, praying he would take the hint. "We should go home, Joey."
"You're not getting into my girlfriend's car smelling like that," Joey shot back.
"Don’t be a dickhead," I growled. "Take me home."
"You guys can't go home yet. We haven't had tea and chats," Gibsie piped up. "And I have scones baking in the oven."
"You baked scones?" I asked, momentarily distracted. "You?"
"Yes, me," Gibsie shot back, looking slightly wounded. "I'll have you know that I'm a wonderful baker."
"Sorry," I quickly replied, not wanting to offend him. "You just don’t strike me as a baker."
"Relax, I'm totally fucking with you," he laughed. "I have no idea what I'm doing." He pointed to the stove and said, "For all I know, those scones could be killers."
"Killer scones?" I scrunched my nose up at the concept. "Then I hope you won't mind if I pass."
Gibsie chuckled. "I like you." He looked over my head and said, "I like her," before returning his attention to me. "But not the smell." He pegged his nose with his fingers and added, "Your brother's right – you need to change."
"That's okay, I'm going home –" I began to say, but once again, I was interrupted – this time by Gibsie.
"Johnny, she can take a shower here, can't she?"
My eyes bulged. "What?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess," Johnny, who was still standing behind me, replied slowly. "If she wants?"
Joey, who had returned to his perch at the island, nodded his head.
"Good idea, Gibs," he agreed between forkfuls of egg and sausage. "Wash that wet dog smell off ya before we have to drive home in small confines."
"I don’t smell," I muttered.
"You stink," both Gibsie and Joey said in unison.
"Fuck off the pair of you and leave her alone," Johnny piped up, sounding aggravated. "She doesn’t smell bad at all."
"You don’t smell it because you're immune," Gibsie retorted. Turning to Joey, he said, "He lets the mutt sleep on his bed every night."
"Call my dog a mutt again and you'll be wearing that frying pan," Johnny warned.
"My sincerest apologies, lad." Gibsie threw his hands up in retreat. "I never meant to insult your precious pooch."