“Bloody hell,” he muttered beneath his breath. “What are you doing? She didn’t come to Ireland to snog with a culchie like you, ya daft prick.” Still, she must have enjoyed it. She hadn’t slapped him across the face or called him out for such a bold move or even tried to put an end to the kiss. And maybe, if the opportunity presented itself again, he’d give it another go.

When he got behind the wheel, Nan was peering out at the round tower, her eyes watery. Jaysus, this didn’t bode well. Kissing her had made her cry. “Oh, now don’t do that,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. But I-”

“No,” she said, laughing softly. “It wasn’t the kiss. That was lovely. Very nice. Better than nice. Excellent.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I-I guess I’d like to think my mom might have been here when she visited Ireland years ago. She loved history. She might have visited this tower and put her hands on those very stones.”

“Well, now you have a picture to show her.”

“She died when I was eight,” Nan said.

Silently cursing his stupidity, Riley turned the ignition and the car started. When it backfired, Nan jumped, pressing her hand to her heart and startling her out of her melancholy. “Nothing a tune-up won’t cure,” Riley said. “She’s a dependable old banger. You won’t have to worry. She’ll get you wherever you want to go.”

“You’re lending me this car?” she asked.

“This is it,” he said, giving the dashboard a pat.

“What is it?”

“This is a Fiat. A Cinquecento. She may be small, but she’s got four wheels and an engine.”

“She has a stick shift,” she said. “Which would probably indicate the opposite gender. And I can’t drive a stick shift.”

“It’s not rocket science,” he said. “I can teach you in just a couple of minutes. Besides, this car barely uses any petrol. Though it does have an oil leak you’ll have to mind.”