The curved patchwork of Irish road was rain-slicked and steaming, the only remaining evidence of the cloudless sky Emma had stepped out under on her run earlier in the afternoon. In her defense, Ruby's grandmother had called it "perfect weather for a jog." In hindsight, though, she should have known better. Leaving her phone at the house was a mistake.

Her legs had been sore on the first mile, which she'd taken slow on purpose, but Emma had found her pace as the rain picked up. It was always the long flights that left her body and brain in this strange civil war — one was too tired to make any real plans and the other was too wired to do nothing for more than ten minutes. There was no if about Emma's need to run, only a when, and the second their taxi left the Galway airport she knew she'd be gone until dinner.

Granny hadn't minded at all when she stepped out, which was nice. She'd assured Emma it was hard to get lost, so long as she stayed near the road, and that anyone who spoke to her would be able to point her back toward home. She didn't doubt it, knowing how famous her surrogate grandmother was in the little harbor town. She just wished she'd been famous for predicting weather, not for her cooking.

The worst of it had started once she was well out of reach of town. She'd left the main shops and taverns behind as she tried to work herself to the point of mental and physical exhaustion, and each step up the windy hillside was making her regret it. For one, she was soaked to the bone. For another, she had a blister on her heel. The air was still thick with rain, making Emma work to see what was around her. What she could glimpse was beautiful — large, rolling hills filled with pastures and tiny yellow wildflowers, open stretches of tall grass that hid symphonies of crickets, an occasional silo or pond — but it was unrecognizable.

She was in the middle of wondering just how far Granny's fame extended as she heard a rapid shuffling and splashing coming her way. Whoever or whatever it was seemed to be running full-tilt through the road in her direction. Emma tensed as she watched the figure burst through the fog.

A massive, shaggy-looking dog broke into her field of vision, muddy from the chest down. He seemed to already be aware of her presence, even as he zipped past her and splashed more mud onto her clothes. This was a hound on a mission, if she ever saw one, and she'd bet good money it was a mission that led to somewhere dry.

"Hey!" She cried out, her voice still a little ragged. Emma had no intention of adding another mile to her run, but she didn't want to lose sight of the creature. For whatever reason, her gut said chase the dog. "Where are you going, buddy?"

The sound of four wet feet galloping through gravel and puddles answered her, along with a happy bark, and she jogged after him, keeping as much weight off her blistered foot as possible. Well, Emma thought, at least I can't get any wetter.

She found the dog standing in the middle of a covered back porch of a small cottage. The fog had hidden it as she passed on her run, evidently, and it would've likely stayed that way if she hadn't ventured off the road after her muddy friend. He looked happy to see he'd followed her, long tail swishing high in the air, and when Emma took a couple steps forward he bowed.

"Nice to meet you too," she replied, eyeing the bedraggled being in front of her. His tail swished once as he dropped his hind legs down onto the floor of the porch, and Emma took it as an invitation. He let her pet him at once, shoving his nose into her palm, and didn't budge when Emma sat down on the stairs at his side. The dog obviously didn't mind her company for the time being, and she hoped whoever lived here was just as welcoming while the rain kept on.

Her shoes were the first to come off, shortly followed by the socks that were causing her blistered heels so much offense. Emma sighed with relief when she was finally able to toss her sneakers out of reach. Once that business was taken care of, she turned back to her four-legged companion to consider him more closely.

She reached out again and scratched the fur at the side of his neck, smiling at the happy look on his face. For such a big dog, he had a remarkably graceful way about him. He was massive and wiry, about as long as she was tall from flank to nose, and he smelled like pond water. Emma was almost certain he could say the same of her.

The search for a name tag on his collar almost turned fruitless, no thanks to the dog himself. He kept picking his paw up and setting it on top of her hand when she reached for his neck, trying to keep her petting him instead.

"Just give me a second, okay?" She told him impatiently, fingers finally hitting their mark on a sturdy leather collar. His head jerked to the side as she tugged the metal tags out of his fur, distracted by something behind her, but Emma was too busy trying to figure out his name to notice the movement.

"What the hell kind of name is Eoghan?"

"It's pronounced Owen, actually."

The voice came from across the porch, startling Emma enough to make her jump. In a second she was on her feet, as was the dog. She watched him bound over to greet the source of the voice, her apology for intruding already on her lips, and felt it die the second she met the man's eyes.

He was tall and lean, eyes bright as his hair was dark. He had his arms folded casually as he leaned against the doorframe, blocking Eoghan's escape route, and his eyes were trained on her. Emma wasn't sure if his expression counted as amusement or curiosity, but there wasn't a trace of confusion in them. How long had he been standing there?

"You're soaking wet, love —"

"I'm sorry I'm tresp—"

Eoghan barked again, interrupting them both.

"Hey," the man said, giving Eoghan a stern look. "That's not how we deal with visitors, now, is it?" The dog's eyes turned back to her for a moment, and she could've sworn he actually looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry," Emma said again, already on the retreat. She fumbled for her shoes, trying not to wince at the thought of how her blisters would feel running back to Granny's. "I didn't mean to intrude. He just kind of took me by surprise," she supplied awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

"Don't worry, lass, you're not intruding." the man told her, grinning wide enough to let her know it was definitely amusement dancing in his eyes. It was bright and crooked, and she was suddenly painfully aware of the way her ponytail lay plastered to her neck, how she stood barefoot in front of him. "But since you are here with us, would you mind doing me a favor?"

Emma eventually found it in her to nod.

"Good. Stay put, then, and make sure he stays with you," he replied, shoving off the doorframe and retreating inside. Emma held the echo of his words in her head as she watched the door shut, and considered her options in the quiet that followed. It was unlikely that he was going to call the police on her, given his friendly demeanor, but she still kept a respectable distance from the door to the man's house as she clicked her tongue, beckoning Eoghan back to her.

"You didn't make me come here to get me in trouble, did you?" She muttered to the dog, barely needing to crouch in front of him to put herself at his eye level. Emma wasn't exactly sure where here was, but she liked to think the way he raised his paw to rest on her knee was supposed to be reassuring.

The man came back in less than five minutes, armed with two of the fluffiest towels she'd ever seen. "I'd been wondering where he got off to this time," he said conversationally, as if she already knew what life with this dog was like. "He must've taken a new route today today. Eoghan doesn't usually bring pretty lasses with strange accents back to the house."

She flushed immediately, unprepared for compliments so soon after being caught standing on a stranger's porch, and tried not to notice the way Eoghan's tail wagged in agreement.

"My name's Killian Jones, if you were wondering," he continued, unfazed by her silence as he knelt and wiped mud off the side of Eoghan's flank. "This one's is a Jones as well, but sadly not by blood."

"Emma," she managed back, trying to keep up with his friendly demeanor. Granny had told her strangers in the country were much friendlier than strangers in Boston, but she'd been expecting the polite kindness she reserved for unfamiliar people, not the kind that let her wait out the downpour on his porch and brought her something to dry off with. "You didn't have to bring me a towel."

"I could hardly bring one for him and leave you dripping, could I? Especially not after Eoghan invited you in." The dog's tail swished again, smacking Killian in the side as he moved to wipe more mud from the dog's ribs. The other towel waited for her by his side, tempting her to temporarily forget the peculiar situation she found herself in. It turned out to be the best decision she'd made all day — the towel was as warm and soft as if it had been freshly thrown in the dryer.

Killian looked up at her, eyes sparkling, and she couldn't tell if it was confirmation or not. Emma covered her shoulders in the warm towel and watched him clean Eoghan as much as he could. His broad shoulders worked vigorously as he scrubbed the towel over the dog, and she wondered vaguely what he did for work — whatever it was, it made him ridiculously difficult to look away from.

"If I had to guess, lass, I'd reckon you're not from around here," He remarked conversationally, holding Eoghan's collar to keep him in place. "Visiting family, perhaps, or just touring?"

"Visiting...sort of," Emma replied, pulling the towel tighter around her arms. "Escaping works pretty well, too."

Killian's eyes briefly danced up to hers, and she felt instant understanding in the air. He didn't press her about it, though. He only turned his eyes back down to the task at hand when he felt Eoghan trying to move over to Emma again. "Not yet, you soggy beast," he murmured sternly. "You've got a muddy beard still."

"How old is he?" Emma asked, lips twitching up into a grin of her own. She couldn't help asking, playing off the easygoing mood he had set. He was almost a complete stranger, but she had the strange feeling that she couldn't have picked a better porch to end up on. It probably had something to do with the fact that Granny's house was the closest house for miles, but she didn't linger on it.

"Not quite sure. Our vet tells me he's about four," he answered, soft pride filling his voice as he rubbed part of the towel across Eoghan's muzzle. "And that's nearly 30 in dog years, mind, so it's high time he stopped mucking about in the middle of the day and started doing something with his life." Killian ran the now-filthy towel over his dog's head before slinging it across is shoulder, standing and giving her his full attention again. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Emma felt her no catch in her throat as a distant rumble of thunder sounded over the hills. What was she going to do, amble through the fog with a bum foot until she found Granny's again?

"What kind do you have?"

Killian shot a warning glance to Eoghan, who was currently stretched out along the full length of the couch. "You're more than welcome to shove him aside if you'd like. He won't take offense."

Emma only nodded and ran her hand over the large head resting in her lap, holding her mug of tea a safe distance away. It hadn't been nearly as difficult as he'd expected it would be, inviting her in, offering to send her clothes through the dryer, convincing her she'd enjoy a cup of unfamiliar tea; he figured a woman willing to run through rain could be stubborn if the occasion called for it. Now that she was here, settled on his couch, wearing his sweatpants and drinking out of his favorite mug — well, someone had certainly earned himself a dog biscuit.

"You said you were visiting someone in town?" He pressed, unwilling to let the sound of the rain grow too loud between them. It wasn't that he felt the need to compete with his own pet for attention from her, exactly. He just wanted to know how she'd ended up on his porch.

"Friend's grandmother," Emma supplied, setting her tea down for a second. "She forces us to take time off every year so we can come and eat a good home-cooked meal."

"Sounds awful," he teased, picking up on the lighthearted tone in her voice.

"It's terrible," she agreed, shifting to tuck her feet somewhere beneath Eoghan's shoulder. "The air is way too clean, the roads are way too clear, people actually want to talk to you if you pass them on the street..."

He had to hide his smile behind his mug of tea, because Killian was sure it wouldn't do for him to be grinning at her so much. He'd always been told that foreigners had appalling senses of humor, and he didn't want her to think she was his source of amusement.

"And running in the rain?"

"Granny told me it was gonna be nice out."

Killian's eyebrow quirked up instantly at the name. It could have been coincidence — many people called their grandmother by such an affectionate nickname — but he wondered.

Rain kept streaming down the bay window as he learned more about her. The more he figured out — that she was here for the week, that she liked his tea, that she was training to run in the Boston Half-Marathon with her coworkers in the fall — the more he wanted to know. She was quicker, though, and she turned the tables on him before he could ask another question about what exactly work meant for her.

"You said you didn't know exactly how old he was," Emma prompted gently, running her fingers through the wiry fur around Eoghan's collar. "Was he a stray?"

Killian pauses, his mug of tea halfway to his mouth. Now there's a story he hasn't told for some time. Most people focused their attention on Eoghan once they were introduced, not the question of his beginnings.

"Not exactly," Killian managed, before Emma could shrink back at his lack of a response. "I stole him."

Emma's fingers stilled for a second, and her eyes sharpened considerably. For a second he saw a much more guarded woman in front of him, but then her gaze softened again. She was giving him a chance to continue.

"I was coming on my way back in from town, passing little houses like mine, and I heard the most pathetic barking I'd ever heard in my life. It was a ways away, but loud, cutting right through the air. I pulled over, walked up the driveway — two cars parked out front, and nobody coming to check on it besides me, mind you — and I see this scrawny little lad chained up in the yard." He indicated Eoghan with a nod and pushed himself to keep going, even though the smile on his face had gone tight.

"He made quite the fuss when he noticed me coming. He was growling, tail wagging, leaping all over the fence and pulling at his rope...quite the spectacle. All that time I kept thinking someone would come out and eat my head off for trespassing. Nobody showed."

"So you took him?"

"Not then. I should've," Killian added, scrubbing his hand across the back of his neck. Even with Eoghan grown and healthy right in front of him, he always regretted leaving him there that day. He didn't need to say the words aloud to know Emma understood him. He could see the way her fingers started moving again, unconsciously comforting Eoghan even though he was completely fine. He was perfectly happy to be warm and dry and inside with the both of them. "The yard looked decently kept-up, and he had a bowl of water with him. I figured it wasn't my business...but I came back and checked on him for about a week. I figured out he was sleeping under that porch."

Emma looked as pained as he'd felt back then, enough that he paused again. For whatever reason, his story was hitting her harder than it had the few others who knew.

"But," Killian pressed on, lifting the corner of his mouth up in a tentative grin, "I was bringing him snacks the whole time. Changing his water out. Even bought him a little toy. All the bribery eventually worked, and he kept quiet long enough for me to slip over the fence and untie him from his rope. After that, we took a little trip to the store, and I let him pick out dinner."

Emma smiled and scratched behind Eoghan's ears, prompting him to shift onto his back and thump his tail against the armrest of the couch. He seemed happy for the attention from their beautiful guest, whose judgment had turned into understanding.

"And you never heard a word about it from the owners?"

Killian shook his head, more thankful than bitter about the fact. "Not a word from anybody. To tell the truth, lass, at that point I would have fought for him if they had. I'd already named him and everything."

Emma had looked on the verge of deciding something through his entire story, and those words seemed to settle things in her mind. She looked much warmer now than she had when he started his story, hair damp and eyes green as the shrubs outside. If his eyes lingered a little too long on her during their journey across the room, well, at least he wasn't staring in open devotion like his dog.

"Why Eoghan?" She asked him, pronouncing it perfectly this time around.

"Ah, now that's a happier tale," He replied, setting down his empty mug. "Once we got home I sat him down, had a nice chat about the rules around here, and I asked his opinion on a few. He didn't care much for Brody, apt as it was, and we both hated Murray. Eoghan was the only one he barked for."

Killian had learned early on that Eoghan was different than any other dog he'd come across. He'd expected him to be just as noisy in his home as he was in the stranger's backyard, but the puppy was quiet as the a cold tea kettle through his first night's stay.

The sound of the dryer finished his story for him, and Killian watched the expression on Emma's face shift. She seemed to be remembering where she was, and no sooner did the thought cross his mind than she started to stand and move to his laundry closet. He wanted to call her back and prolong the moment for reasons he couldn't quite name, but he didn't have a chance to think of anything. Eoghan had hardly pulled himself up off the cushions to follow after her when she returned, running clothes on and the ones she'd borrowed from him in a bundle in her arms.

"Thank you for the tea...and for these," she told him gratefully, if not a little awkwardly. She set his clothes where her seat had been, drawing Eoghan's attention for a moment, and Killian stood with them both, checking the weather out the window.

"How far did you say you ran, love?"

"A few miles, maybe. Why?"

"We'd be happy to give you a ride, if you'd like."

Emma seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes drifting to the window. The rain had certainly lightened up, but it seemed intent on lingering persistently.

"You really don't need to."

"It's not about needing," he insisted, patting the side of his pocket.

Eoghan caught the sound of jingling keys in his pocket and barked immediately, tail thumping hard against the wall and ears at attention. He loved running alongside Killian whenever they drove somewhere, and the man barely had to take a step toward the back porch before a blur of gray fur beat him to it. "He loves being out in the rain, as I'm sure you've gathered," Killian told her. "Probably thinks he'll get out of a bath, too."

Thankfully, that seemed to put her at ease. Emma followed close behind him as he led her out to the back porch again, and he tried his best to scrub the memory of her in his clothes from his mind as he pulled the cover off his motorcycle.

"Wait a second," Emma stalled, lingering near the door. "You're driving us back on that?"

"You didn't see a car out front, did you?" He grinned, eyes lighting up with mischief. She was making herself incredibly easy to tease, and one glance her way made him sure she knew it. She cut a look at him that let him know she could give as good as she got, and he only needed provoke her a little more to hear it. He liked her more every minute they spent together.

Killian took the helmet off the backseat and stepped into Emma's space, taking the liberty of setting it on her head for her. He took his time buckling the strap, being gentle with her charmingly dented chin, and held her gaze for a beat after he finished up. "Not to worry, lass," he told her, "I'll get you where you need to be."

He settled onto the seat and walked the motorcycle forward a little, waiting to start the engine when they were both ready. Eoghan would take off the moment he did, and he wanted some idea of where they were going. Twisting on the soft leather and patting the space behind him, Killian looked at Emma. "Where to?"

"Granny's is a mile or two to the right," she supplied, filling the space behind him and slowly reaching her arms around his waist. The visible proof of her trust in him didn't escape his notice.

"All right, Eoghan, you hear that?" He announced, speaking loud to get his boy a little riled up. "To the right, we go." Killian started the engine and watched Eoghan bolt down the rain-soaked lane, already out of sight. Emma's arms tightened around him a bit when he picked his foot up off the floor, and then they were gone, too.

Killian could feel it the minute she relaxed and started to actually enjoy the ride. It didn't take long to catch up to Eoghan, who happily kept their pace, and he even made Emma laugh a little when he pushed the dog to race. Driving in a car would have kept them drier, and the rain would have stung less, but he wouldn't have traded the feeling of Emma's arms locked around his waist for much.

"I think it's coming up soon," Emma said in his ear, tugging him from his thoughts. "It's a little gray stone house."

Killian hadn't been certain of where they were headed before, but he grinned as he glanced back at her, leaning his head back so he could be heard. "I think I know the place."

The three of them stood huddled under Granny's small front porch as they knocked, Eoghan shuffling around every few seconds as if he couldn't wait to get inside. Killian had already warned him against doing that, knowing he was already pushing it by lingering around, but Eoghan wasn't hearing it. He seemed to be intent on sticking by her side for as long as possible, even when the door began to creak open.

"About time you showed up. I tried calling once, but I heard the phone ringing down the hall — Emma?"

Eoghan barked twice, barely managing to keep all four feet on the ground at the sight of Granny. Killian reached for his collar preemptively, and found himself slightly amused to see Emma do the same.

"Hi, Granny. Sorry I'm late. I didn't miss dinner, did I?"

"Ruby's just setting the table now," She answered, more interested in the man next to Emma than the woman herself. "Who's your friend?""

"Oh," Emma answered, more flustered than she'd been all day,"Um, Granny, this is Killian. Killian, this is —"

"Come off it, Granny," Killian interrupted her, stepping forward to hold the door so the older woman didn't need to. "You're telling me you've never told the lass about me?"

Emma turned back to stare at him now, ignoring Eoghan's happy barks and completely missing the change of expression on Granny's face. He knew she would have loved to keep the game going, but something told him Emma wouldn't have appreciated it as much as they would.

"I didn't know you knew each other!" Granny protested, settling her hand on her hip. "You got off the plane this afternoon!"

The playful argument about weather and exercise continued well after he and Eoghan made their retreat, but Killian could see the way Emma's eyes pulled toward him every so often. He felt her stare linger on his shoulders as he rode back toward home with Eoghan, and it was long after that that the smile faded from his cheeks. He liked her, possibly more than Eoghan did, and he needed to see her again.