Chapter Seven
Callan’s truck bumped over the stone bridge and zoomed its way to the whitewashed structure that loomed ahead. Dachaigh was so out of the way, this road never saw any traffic except for guests’ cars.
He turned right into the inn’s car park and the tingling in his chest dissipated. What in the world was Robert doing here? The man had been called to someone else’s house earlier, hadn’t he?
Callan was out of the car and rushing towards the inn before his car door slammed shut. Dachaigh was almost like his home, since he spent most of his downtime here. But not this afternoon. His office chair had had to suffice.
The warmth enveloped him, and he longed to sag his tired body into the barstools in the kitchen. This part of the house sat in darkness, but he followed the golden h
