Page 22 of An Irish Summer

“Can’t I do, like, baby steps? Work my way up to bold?”

“You lost that privilege when you moved to Ireland and jumped off a cliff. Sorry, babe.”

I moaned but said nothing. There was no arguing with Ada, and in a way, she was right. I’d been bold before. I could do it

again, couldn’t I?

But right now I was exhausted, so bold Chelsea would have to wait until tomorrow.

After ending my call with Ada, I grabbed my toiletries and headed to the bathroom, planning to get ready for bed and fall

into a deep, dreamless sleep. I felt myself winding down, until I heard his voice while I was washing my face.

“Figured you’d be asleep by now.”

I wiped the cleanser from my eyes, acutely aware that doing so probably made me look like a child who forgot her goggles at

the swimming pool.

“And I figured you’d still be at the bar.”

“Couple more drinks and this lot would have been making a proper holy show,” he said, stretching his arms over his head just

enough to expose a sliver of his stomach. “Couldn’t be arsed to stay around for that tonight.”

“A holy show?”

“A scene,” he explained. “Though after your performance at Blackrock, I’d think you’d know a thing or two about a holy show.”

“I did not make a scene,” I said.

“Aye, I have to disagree with ya there, Chels. It was quite charming though, I have to say.”

“Does charming have a different meaning here than it does at home?” I was hoping he would say yes and that an insult might stop the heat spreading across my chest, but I should have known better.

“Hardly,” he said. He looked at his watch, which obscured a tattoo of what looked like a key that intrigued me every time

I caught a glimpse. “What’s keeping you up, then?”

“Just catching up with my best friend from home,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t probe.

“Did ya tell her how much you’re loving Galway? How much the Wanderer has changed your life?”

“No,” I said, “because I’m a terrible liar.”

“Looks like I’m going to have to try harder,” he said. “Might have to really start making my case.”

“Seemed to be working for Rhiannon,” I said. It took everything in me not to cover my mouth with my hand, willing the words

back inside. He laughed, rubbing his hand over the back of his head.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “That was... I don’t know what that was.”

“Lucky woman, you are,” he said, joining me at the sink. “Even jealousy looks good on you.” He turned the water on and started

washing his face before I had a chance to respond, so I had to raise my voice over the faucet.

“I’m not jealous.”

“I can’t hear you,” he said, face still in the sink.

I crossed my arms and waited, only to be jarred by how good he looked when he was finished.

The water turned his lashes dark and heavy, and the usually wild strands of hair in the front were slicked back from his face.

He looked like he did after platform jumping, when he was inches from my face, wide-eyed, his hands on my hips under the water like a secret passing between us.

“You were saying?” he asked, leaning back on the counter.

“I’m not jealous,” I repeated. “I was just making an observation.”

“And that observation is that you think I’m trying to sell Rhiannon on Galway, is it?”

“It’s that you’re trying to sell her on something ,” I said. He laughed again, but I did not.

“You do know being a tour guide is my job, don’t you? I’m contractually obligated to try to get people to like it here.”

“Is that why you’ve been showing me around? Because you’re contractually obligated?”

“Ah, come on. It’s not like that with you, Chels.”

“Then what is it like? If it isn’t just part of your long list of jobs.”

“If you have to ask, that means I’m not doing a good enough job of showing ya.” He took a step closer, but we were interrupted

by the sound of Lars’s voice down the hall.

“I’m just going to have a quick shower first,” he was saying to whomever he was with. “I’ll be right back. Wait in my room

for me, will you?”

A second later he swung open the bathroom door, seemingly surprised to see the two of us standing there, likely too close

for coworkers who just happened to share a bathroom.

“Didn’t expect to see you two in here,” he said. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Are we ?” Collin swooped in before I could die of embarrassment. “Seemed like you and whoever you were talking to in the corridor

thought you were having a private moment.”

“Last I checked you weren’t the only one allowed to shag the guests,” Lars said with a chuckle. I didn’t laugh. Collin didn’t either. Instead, we locked eyes, but his expression was unreadable, even in the bright light of the bathroom.

“Ah, so you are shagging the guests after all,” I said, recrossing my arms and trying to look more smug than inexplicably

crushed.

“It’s not like—”

“I’ve said too much,” Lars said, putting his fingers to his lips. “A few too many pints’ll do that to me.”

“You’ve said just enough. Enjoy your night,” I said to Lars.

I was out the door before he could say anything else, and I felt Collin two steps behind me.

“Chelsea,” he said.

I turned to him and raised my eyebrows to signal I was listening, though he only had about thirty seconds before I backed

through my doorway and called it a night.

“He isn’t talking about now,” he said. “We’ve all done stuff like that since we’ve been working here. Especially when we’ve

been here a while. It’s just, I don’t know. What happens in here sometimes.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” I said. “What you do in your free time is none of my business.”

“I don’t want you thinking I’m the bloke who shags all the guests.”

“Does it matter what I think?”

“Do you really think it doesn’t?”

We stared at each other, the only sounds the running water in the bathroom and our breathing.

“I don’t know what to think,” I said eventually. I was beginning to realize I might have overreacted about Rhiannon, maybe even misjudged what was really going on, and I probably owed him the benefit of the doubt. I’d have wanted it if the roles were reversed.

“Let me make it easier for you,” he said. “Let’s drive the Wild Atlantic Way this week. I’ll tell you everything you want

to know.”

“What makes you so sure I want to know anything?”

“We wouldn’t still be having this conversation if you didn’t,” he said. “Besides, I do believe you won a bet, and I am a man

of my word, so it’s only fair to follow through.”

“Fine,” I agreed. “But only because I want to drive.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“Good night, Collin,” I said, ducking into my room and closing my door.

“Sweet dreams,” he called from the other side, so cheerful I almost had to laugh. Almost.