Page 10 of An Irish Summer

By Thursday, I had a detailed itinerary for the bachelorette party printed on lilac paper and gift bags stuffed with things

I pulled together from what I could find in the storage closet. Lori was so excited I had organized their weekend that she

gave me the green light to use whatever I could find, so I collected soaps that had been donated by a local shop but never

used, white cotton slippers, stacks of coupons for local eateries, and plastic sunglasses. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the

best I could do on short notice.

The women were set to check in tomorrow night, but I was assured I didn’t have to be around to meet them since it was my day

off. The itinerary had all the details, and Lars was working so he could give any additional recommendations.

Once the arrangements were made and everything had been settled, I had nothing else to do but wait for tomorrow to come. And

not for the hen do.

I had spent most nights this week tossing and turning alongside the creaking floorboards and groaning pipes, trying not to

listen for sounds down the hall. Especially from room five, which I saw Collin duck into the other night for the first time.

“I can’t believe you’re going on a date already,” Ada had said on the phone one night when I told her about my impending plans. “You haven’t been on a date since what’s-his-face. That tech start-up guy? The one who only talked about himself and his mom?”

“It’s not a date,” I had told her for what had to have been the hundredth time, ignoring the reminder of my last one. “He’s

just, I don’t know, showing me around Ireland or whatever.”

“Chels, seriously, how can anyone be pissed about that? You have a personal tour guide. A really hot one. What’s the problem?”

“You haven’t even seen him,” I’d reminded her. “You don’t know if he’s hot.”

“Chelsea Gold,” she’d said. “He’s Irish. And he has tattoos. And green eyes and messy hair and he’s a bartender. I don’t have

to see him to know he’s hot.”

I’d regretted everything I’d told her about Collin, but somehow I couldn’t have stopped myself.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” I’d said. “The problem is that he is hot, and I’m just out here while I sort my life out. My focus for this summer is solely filling a gap in my résumé and finding

a job and an apartment back home. Which means no men for me this summer. And no men ever who don’t fit into the married-by-thirty-five-home-in-the-Boston-suburbs

plan for the future.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

As much as I loved Ada, sometimes she made me want to smack my head into the wall.

It also made me miss her. And the rest of my life at home. The only full-time positions in Boston I’d seen posted all week

were a breakfast attendant at a hotel near the airport and a server at a local banquet hall.

I woke up on Friday before my alarm and spent the extra time standing in front of my open wardrobe, staring mindlessly at my clothes. Collin and I had agreed to meet in the lobby at nine with no other instructions, so I hadn’t the slightest clue how to dress.

After checking the weather app a dozen times despite the fact Ireland often saw four seasons in a day (which I now knew was

no longer just an idiom), I settled on a white cotton T-shirt, straight-leg jeans with rips in the knees, and a pair of sneakers.

A classic.

I put my hair in a ponytail, then took it down, then put it back up. I was being ridiculous. We were probably just going to

be hiking around or looking at the ruins of some castle. I had no one to impress, so it didn’t matter at all what I looked

like.

I took my hair back down from the ponytail and headed to the lobby with five minutes to spare. Collin was already down there,

sitting with his feet on the coffee table and dragging a toothpick back and forth between his teeth.

“You look like a farmer,” I said.

“I look like you,” he said, looking up and down at both of our outfits. He too was in jeans and a white T-shirt, only he had

an army-green flannel layered on top and a battered pair of boots on his feet.

“One of us has to change,” I said.

“Well, I look too good to change, so it can’t be me,” he said. “And you also look too good to change, so it looks like we’re

stuck like this. Are ya ready?”

The compliment sounded so natural coming out of his mouth I almost missed it. I clenched the inside of my lip between my teeth

to avoid grinning and nodded toward the door.

“Lead the way.”

“My specialty.” He smiled, staring at me for an extra second before leaning down to grab a wicker basket I hadn’t noticed

before.

“What’s in the basket?” I asked, following him toward the door.

“The usual,” he said. “Bleach, knives, zip ties—”

“Very funny,” I interrupted. “You’d make a terrible serial killer.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“A serial killer would never own a picnic basket.”

“So you do know what’s in here after all.”

I rolled my eyes, and my stomach rolled over with them

“This isn’t, like, a date or anything, right?” I said.

“It isn’t a date, Chelsea,” he said. “You’d know if it was a date.”

I exhaled, though I didn’t like whatever feeling was mingling with relief. We crossed the street to a gravel parking lot,

and I followed Collin’s path to a small truck that looked better suited for a farm than the road.

“This is your car?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Where are we going?”

“You ask too many questions,” he said, opening the door for me then circling to the driver’s side. “Your first lesson about

Ireland is trust.”

He turned the key in the ignition and after a few seconds of protest, the truck sputtered to life. “I’ve already learned trust,”

I said. “I’m out here letting you show me your beloved country, aren’t I?”

“It’s not about trusting me,” he said. “It’s about trusting her.” He nodded out the window to what I assumed was Ireland in

general, then threw the truck into gear and pulled into the street.

I tried to relax in the seat, maybe even look out the window while we drove, but it was nearly impossible when I had no idea

where we were headed. And when I could see the ripples in his jaw as he clenched it around the toothpick.

“It’s a bit of a road trip,” he said as we reached the highway. “Nothing crazy. A few hours both ways. But figured I’d warn ya.”

“You figured you’d warn me after we got in the truck?” Collin rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, and for a second

I thought he might be embarrassed. “It’s fine,” I continued. “I don’t mind being in the truck.” He dropped his hand back to

the wheel, both of us settling in for the ride.

“We’re going straight across the country,” he said. “Right down to the east coast there.”

“I thought we were starting small.”

“A picnic is small,” he said, knowing that wasn’t what I meant. “Besides, it’s only a matter of time before we’re cliff jumping,

so enjoy this while it lasts.”

“Cliff jumping?” I turned to face him so fast I gave myself whiplash. He snorted, looking in my direction just long enough

for me to catch the way his teeth lined up right over each other in two perfect rows. “You can’t be serious.”

“A little adventure never hurt anyone,” he said.

“That is absolutely not true.”

He shrugged, his smile lingering on his lips. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Focus. Look out the window. Try

to enjoy this.”

I sighed, turning my gaze to the open window. Since we were on the highway, there was little more to look at than a smattering

of trees or an open grassy field.

“It looks like Massachusetts,” I said after a minute. He made a noise low in his throat I knew was frustration, but it raised

the hairs on my arms. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, trying to stop my train of thought before it got any further

away from me.

“You are proper difficult, you know that?” he said, shaking his head. “Look closer. And maybe for more than a minute this time.”

I didn’t know what I was supposed to be looking for, but I looked anyway. Something acoustic played from the old radio, tinny

and far away.

And eventually, it stopped looking like Massachusetts. The fields turned to rolling hills, which stretched for miles in all

directions. Cattle and sheep dotted the endless green, and ruins of castles stood frozen in time. It wasn’t hard to lose track

of how long we’d been in the truck, and I’d almost forgotten Collin was there at all until his voice interrupted my aimless

gazing.

“That used to be a cathedral,” he said, watching me study a crumbling stone structure on the side of the road. “It was set

on fire sometime in the thirteenth century, but the ruins have remained untouched since.”

“How do you know that?” I asked. There were structures like this all over the place, and I had no idea how he could possibly

tell one from the other.

“I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

“No one said you had a pretty face.”

He gasped in mock offense, slapping his hand to his chest. “You humble me, Chelsea.”

“Someone has to.”

He rolled his eyes, then settled back into drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and cutting tight corners of country

roads.

“What about this one?” I asked, gesturing out the window to a dilapidated stone wall shaped like a square.

“Oh, that one used to be used for human sacrifice.”

I whipped my head in his direction just in time to catch a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Now you’re just making shit up,” I said. “And you’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“I’ll have to work on that,” he said. “Not that you could teach me anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve one of those faces,” he said. “The kind that tells everyone everything you’re feeling, even if you don’t want to.”

“You’ve known me for a week,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “You couldn’t possibly make that observation.”

“You’d be surprised how observant you become when your jobs consist almost solely of people-pleasing.”