Free Mistletoe and Mr. Right by Lyla Payne Page A

Belgians eat those?”
    Brennan snorts but tries to cover it up with his napkin. Katie grins.
    It’s enough to make me giggle, as well, but I tamp it down, crossing my arms over my chest. “I think
lots
of people eat waffles. Though apparently not around here.”
    â€œOkay, well, now that’s settled, the reason I’m here is that the McCormacks asked me to look after their horses while they’re down in Dingle visiting their daughter and those wretched kids. Any takers on a morning ride so I don’t spend all day running ’em?” He glances around the table, eyebrows shooting up when they land on Katie. “Well, if it isn’t cute Katie McBride. What are you doing here?”
    â€œI was doing some innocent shopping when I was kidnapped by a dodgy bunch of bed-and-breakfast owners.” Katie sniffs, her smile infectious.
    Grady returns it, as charmed by her as everyone else. “A typical Tuesday night in Ennistymon, then?”
    â€œPretty much. Saved me a bob or two for the taxi home, though.”
    â€œOh, you two go on,” Mrs. Donnelly huffs. “We couldn’t let our Katie spend Christmas
alone
.”
    Grady bends at the waist and brushes a kiss on her ruddy cheek. “I know, Maeve. Lord above would fall down dead a second time if you left a single stray by the side of the road.”
    She swats him away but it’s clear that she’s pleased by his attention, and that her loves stretches to include every person around her table. With the possible exception of me, but if I’m being honest, they’ve handled my showing up unannounced and all of my slips and flubs with more grace than required—and her complaints about me after the first night were nothing more than a mother looking out for her son.
    They’re things
I
should be thinking about if I’m serious about Brennan. Finding the right match isn’t all about motivation and potential earning, as Grady pointed out. We have to fit in other ways.
    â€œAny takers for a ride or two? Katie, I know you’ll embarrass me with your skills but the horses would love it.” Grady turns coaxing dimples her direction. “It’ll be grand.”
    She shakes her head. “Everything’s grand with you, Grady, but I’m afraid I’m in the mood to do a bit more reading in front of the fire.”
    â€œFine. Brennan? Granddad Donnelly?”
    â€œDon’t be a feckin’ eejit, boy,” the old man grunts.
    Brennan shakes his head in refusal and his parents don’t even respond, which looks expected.
    â€œI’d like to go,” I volunteer. It’s the perfect opportunity to get some much-needed space, even if I won’t technically be alone.
    Plus, this way I avoid watching Katie and Brennan catch up on old times, only to remember how happy they were then, which sounds like a unique form of torture.
    Maybe leaving them alone isn’t a great idea.
    â€œAre you sure you won’t come, Brennan?” I coax.
    â€œYou ride?” Grady’s question tilts way up at the end, interrupting whatever my boyfriend’s reply was going to be—an excuse, by the look of things. Meanwhile the Donnellys’ farmhand peers at me as though the concept of me on a horse is akin to me walking on the moon.
    â€œI have, yes.” It’s true I’m not very outdoorsy, and it’s also true I haven’t been on the back of a horse since first grade, the last time I was at camp, but still. The old expression “it’s like riding a horse” has to come from somewhere.
    Or is the expression “like riding a bike?”
    Too late now.
    â€œWell, come on then. Got six horses to tote around before sundown.”
    â€œI’ve got to help clean up the kitchen first.” Both Katie and Mrs. Donnelly protest, saying they can handle it, but I refuse. “No, I made the mess. Just give me fifteen minutes, Grady.”
    He nods,