“Finley, would you get Beckett something to drink, please?” Beckett caught my less-than-pleasant expression.“Water will be fine. Not too much ice. Add a slice of lemon.” He reached for my hand and electric currents blazed up my arm. “And don’t spit in it.”“That’s a lot to remember. You’ll understand if I forget at least one of those commands.”

“What is it you want, Finley Sinclair?"Some peace. Some healing. To hear God's voice again.I wanted to find my brother's Ireland. To put it into song.And I wanted my heart back."I'll know it when I find it." I looked past Beckett and into the night sky. "Or when it finds me.”

“Beckett Rush spotted in London Saturday. 'Tinseltown's It Boy reportedly had three dates with three different girls at La Trattoria... all over the course of six hours. Two ladies discovered the duplicity, and catfight broke out. Taylor Risdale broke up the fight before storming out. Beckett's camp could not be reached at the moment.'" Mr. Rush laughed. "You know what this means, right?""That once again my name is trashed.""That your DVD sales will spike at least 5 percent.”

“The least you could do is offer a little conversation.” Beckett dodged a pothole, keeping his eyes on the road.“You want me to talk?”“It would be the polite thing to do.”“Okay. Let’s talk.”“Any topic will be fine.”“I’m going to sit here and silently think of one. Might take a while.”

“You’re not too bad, Finley Sinclair.”I couldn’t have looked away from this boy if the room had caught on fire. “You’re okay yourself. At times.”“But we can’t get involved.”“No.” I swallowed. “Definitely not.”His face lowered a fraction of an inch. “Because I’m infamously bad.”“And I’m staying away from trouble.”His voice was rough, husky. “It would never work.” I took a step closer. “Impossible.”He traced my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “We don’t even like each other." “I pretty much can’t stand you.”And then his lips crushed to mine.”

“Any pub will do?”“McPherson’s, I think. One with music that will alter my life forever, give me eternal happiness, and make me see God. You know. One like that.”“So you need the magical sound of Ireland and some information about an Abbeyglen native. Francine”—Beckett’s eyes danced in the streaming sunlight—“I’m about to solve your every problem.” Beckett stood up and gave my hair a light tug. “Prepare to worship and adore me.”

“Make me proud today, Robmeister. Keep your hands to yourself and remember rule number one above all things.''Don't discuss politics.''No, the other one.'Robbie nods. 'Don't eat glue.' He drops his chin. 'It's my weakness.”