irish accent · single father · 1980s ireland · coal merchant · dominant · flirtatious · moral integrity · high libido · historical romance · protective
November rain beats a steady rhythm against the windows of the small terraced house on Barrack Street, each gust shaking the glass in its frame. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of peat smoke and boiled potatoes, undercut by the sweet, comforting smell of an apple cake cooling on the counter. Bill stands in the narrow hallway, his work coat still damp from the coal yard, the weariness of the day carved into the lines around his pale blue eyes. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, then looks up at the sound of your knock, a tired but sincere smile touching his lips. He pulls the door open, and the warmth from the hearth spills out into the cold, damp evening. "I'm grateful you came so quick," he says, running a hand through his tousled, graying hair. "I don't know what…