Read Online Dirty Beautiful Rich Part Three by Eva Devon - Free Book Online
Authors: Eva Devon
Tags: Dirty Beautiful Rich
Ads: Link
Chapter 1
J ulie felt absolutely no shame as she rubbernecked her way to Galway. It was possible that she was going to have whiplash when they arrived, but who cared? Each green filed surrounded by intricately laid stone walls and hedges was more beautiful than the last. They’d taken the carriageway almost the entire way, though apparently even the Irish equivalent of a highway could go through towns. Damian had assured her the M going form Galway to Dublin was just like an American freeway and while convenient was one of the worst things to happen to Ireland’s tourism trade, in his opinion, keeping people away from the small roads and villages that had thrived on people passing through.
She wondered if that was some of his antiquated lord talking but it was hard to tell because Damian seemed so thoroughly modern, right down to the tricked our Range Rover that had been waiting in the airport. The GPS was not on. Damian said the thing was only for people who had no sense of direction.
Which meant it was for her, because what with the winding roads they passed, often with no street signs, or signs in strange places, or signs that had words on them that she would never ever ever in a million years be able to pronounce, she needed a soothing voice declaring turn left here .
She’d been surprised by the Range Rover. Damian with all his sleek sexiness hadn’t really seemed like an SUV kind of guy. But now, in his perfect denim, his super soft wool sweater and leather jacket, he looked completely at home.
So far, they’d passed at least two places she and her mom had planned on going to see. The Cliffs of Moher and Bunratty Castle. When she’d asked, he looked at her with that arched brow, then laughed. Apparently, he’d never been a tourist in his own country. Luckily, she’d finagled him into a promise to visit both places at a later time.
Apparently, tourist stops were not on his schedule just now.
“Isn’t there an airport in Galway,” she suddenly asked.
“Yes. Its very small and currently not open.”
She waggled her brows. “Couldn’t the Earl of Clare opened it?”
He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment then gave her a cocky smile. A smile that was maybe meant to hide an emotion he didn’t want her to see. “I could, yes. But I thought you’d enjoy the drive from Shannon. I do. It gives me a chance to unwind before the estate.
She nodded. Right. The estate. She couldn’t help wondering what all that entailed. Certainly more that a studio apartment with a doubtful elevator.
Clutched the odd tasting but absolutely necessary coffee they’d picked up in the last town, she stared at the houses that spotted the landscape as they drove. Pink, blue, white, all with large driveways and no flowers nears the houses. Of course it was winter, but it seemed like the houses stood like isolated little forts in the middle of their green fields.
“Go ahead and ask, Julie. I can hear your brain whirring. You’ve been remarkably silent.”
Because if she opened the floodgate to her questions, she was afraid she would never stop! But, since he’d prompted. . . “Why are there no plants around the houses? I mean there are a few here and there but. . . No real landscaping.”
“Wind,” he stated, his voice flat.
“Wind?” she echoed. “I don’t get it.”
He smiled, changing gear as they slowed for the millionth round about. The roundabouts were terrifying her. How did he enter so easily? And choose the right exit? She supposed if she was driving, she could just keep going around and around and around until she was absolutely sure she’d picked the right exit.
He nodded to his left. “Out there, that’s the Atlantic.”
“Right.”
“Now, look to your east. What do you see?”
“Green fields. Its a cliché, I know but. . .”
“Clichés are always based on truth,” he replied, apparently unoffended. “Ireland really is a collection of patch worked green. But, you don’t
J ulie felt absolutely no shame as she rubbernecked her way to Galway. It was possible that she was going to have whiplash when they arrived, but who cared? Each green filed surrounded by intricately laid stone walls and hedges was more beautiful than the last. They’d taken the carriageway almost the entire way, though apparently even the Irish equivalent of a highway could go through towns. Damian had assured her the M going form Galway to Dublin was just like an American freeway and while convenient was one of the worst things to happen to Ireland’s tourism trade, in his opinion, keeping people away from the small roads and villages that had thrived on people passing through.
She wondered if that was some of his antiquated lord talking but it was hard to tell because Damian seemed so thoroughly modern, right down to the tricked our Range Rover that had been waiting in the airport. The GPS was not on. Damian said the thing was only for people who had no sense of direction.
Which meant it was for her, because what with the winding roads they passed, often with no street signs, or signs in strange places, or signs that had words on them that she would never ever ever in a million years be able to pronounce, she needed a soothing voice declaring turn left here .
She’d been surprised by the Range Rover. Damian with all his sleek sexiness hadn’t really seemed like an SUV kind of guy. But now, in his perfect denim, his super soft wool sweater and leather jacket, he looked completely at home.
So far, they’d passed at least two places she and her mom had planned on going to see. The Cliffs of Moher and Bunratty Castle. When she’d asked, he looked at her with that arched brow, then laughed. Apparently, he’d never been a tourist in his own country. Luckily, she’d finagled him into a promise to visit both places at a later time.
Apparently, tourist stops were not on his schedule just now.
“Isn’t there an airport in Galway,” she suddenly asked.
“Yes. Its very small and currently not open.”
She waggled her brows. “Couldn’t the Earl of Clare opened it?”
He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment then gave her a cocky smile. A smile that was maybe meant to hide an emotion he didn’t want her to see. “I could, yes. But I thought you’d enjoy the drive from Shannon. I do. It gives me a chance to unwind before the estate.
She nodded. Right. The estate. She couldn’t help wondering what all that entailed. Certainly more that a studio apartment with a doubtful elevator.
Clutched the odd tasting but absolutely necessary coffee they’d picked up in the last town, she stared at the houses that spotted the landscape as they drove. Pink, blue, white, all with large driveways and no flowers nears the houses. Of course it was winter, but it seemed like the houses stood like isolated little forts in the middle of their green fields.
“Go ahead and ask, Julie. I can hear your brain whirring. You’ve been remarkably silent.”
Because if she opened the floodgate to her questions, she was afraid she would never stop! But, since he’d prompted. . . “Why are there no plants around the houses? I mean there are a few here and there but. . . No real landscaping.”
“Wind,” he stated, his voice flat.
“Wind?” she echoed. “I don’t get it.”
He smiled, changing gear as they slowed for the millionth round about. The roundabouts were terrifying her. How did he enter so easily? And choose the right exit? She supposed if she was driving, she could just keep going around and around and around until she was absolutely sure she’d picked the right exit.
He nodded to his left. “Out there, that’s the Atlantic.”
“Right.”
“Now, look to your east. What do you see?”
“Green fields. Its a cliché, I know but. . .”
“Clichés are always based on truth,” he replied, apparently unoffended. “Ireland really is a collection of patch worked green. But, you don’t
Similar Books
