Page 28 of An Irish Summer

“Keep it up and I’ll leave Ireland right now,” I said.

“D’you mean it?” Collin materialized beside Lars, and I had to remind myself how to breathe.

“Would it kill you if I did?” I could hear the gentle slur in my voice, but I hoped he couldn’t do the same.

“Ah, you liked the Leannán Sídhe stories, did ya?”

“I listened to the Leannán Sídhe stories,” I said, trying to keep us on solid ground, even if I couldn’t quite feel it under my feet

anymore. “I didn’t say anything about liking them.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face gives everything away, remember?”

“What’s it telling you now?”

“That we should talk,” he said pointedly, glancing over my shoulder toward the door.

“On that note,” Lars said to Flo, “feels like we should go get another drink, doesn’t it?”

“We just got another drink,” Flo said, obviously wanting to stay for whatever drama was unfolding.

“ You just got another drink,” Lars said, grabbing her arm. “I’m empty-handed. Let’s go.”

It only took a second after they were gone for Collin to close the space between us, resting his hands on my elbows and ducking

his head slightly to meet my eyes. My head was a dangerous combination of beer, emotions, and loud Dutch club music.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting my chin up and clocking the way I held my hair off the back of my neck.

“Yeah,” I said. “I just need some air, I think.” His staring only amplified the spinning, and I had no choice but to let him

lead me out of the party with a warm hand on my elbow.

When we finally made it outside, I took a breath so deep it made me lightheaded. I grabbed the back of a lawn chair to keep

from wobbling and tried to focus on breathing normally, which was nearly impossible with Collin’s hands on my waist holding

me up.

“Here,” he said, brushing some dirt off the chair and gesturing for me to sit.

“This is so dramatic,” I moaned. “I’m fine now, really. Go back to the party.”

He laughed, which only made me more embarrassed. “Like hell,” he said. “At the very least not until you stop sounding like

you have marbles in your mouth.”

“You’re the one with marbles in your mouth,” I said, trying my hardest not to slur.

I wasn’t looking at him, but I practically heard him roll his eyes.

“Sit on the ground,” he said, grabbing my hands and pulling me up from the chair despite my weak protests. “I’m doing this

for your benefit. Sit.” He pointed to the ground right in front of us, and I obeyed.

What I didn’t expect was for him to then sit in the chair right behind me. “Are you serious?” I asked. “You made me sit on

the ground so you could sit in the chair? Even for you, Collin, this is—”

“Lean back,” he said. I groaned like a child but ultimately did as I was told. I had no idea what he was getting at, but I

was too drunk to care.

I nestled my shoulder blades between his knees, relieved I no longer had to look at his face in the moonlight. The distant

thump of the bass was the only sound save for the animals in the garden, and I hoped the silence would make my ears stop ringing.

I focused on the feeling of Collin at my back, his warm hands brushing my hair off my forehead, trailing down the sides of

my neck.

“Is this another weird Irish old wives’ tale?” I asked. “Are you casting a spell?”

He didn’t answer; instead, he gathered my hair off my shoulders and split it through the center, working his fingers through the knots.

It was impossible to ignore the gentle way he untangled them, especially compared to the way he pulled my hair in the kitchen the other night.

How anyone could be both so soft and so rough was beyond me, and my stomach twisted at the thought.

Eventually, he dropped one side of my hair back over my shoulder and began dividing the other into parts, and it was only then that I realized he was braiding.

“Coll, are you—”

“Just let me,” he said. Of all the things I secretly wanted Collin Finegan to do to me, this hadn’t even crossed my mind.

For the first time in my life, a man French-braided my hair.

I watched the stars form in the clear sky as he turned lock over lock, winding my waves into two tight braids with expert

fingers. He stopped periodically to run a hand through whatever hair was still loose, despite having already gotten the knots

out, and I wasn’t sure which of us was enjoying it more.

“How’d you learn to do this?” I whispered eventually, trying not to break the spell.

“Sisters,” he said, and the silence returned for a while until he continued. “Our mam wasn’t around much, and Da didn’t have

the foggiest how to do this stuff. They begged me to learn, and it’s hard to say no to ’em.”

I wasn’t sure what answer I expected, but it wasn’t that. I suspected Collin Finegan had a soft side, but not the braiding-your-sisters’-hair-because-mom-isn’t-around

kind.

“Is it working?” he asked.

“If I say yes, will it go straight to your ego?”

“You sound better already.”

We both let out a gentle laugh that quickly disappeared into the night.

“Thank you,” I said as he wound a rubber band around the bottom of the second braid, letting his fingers linger against my back.

“You didn’t have to do this.” I spun around to face him for the first time since we got outside.

The heaviness of his gaze settled into my bones, and I wore it like a weighted blanket.

“Not doing it ’cause I have to, Chelsea,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “Doing it ’cause I want to. ’Cause I want you , more specifically. And if you haven’t already realized, there’s very little I wouldn’t do for ya.”

His eyes were clear as day, even in the dark. Bright and honest and pleading, and I owed him the truth in return.

“Me too.” I exhaled, and he raised his eyebrows. “I want you too.” My voice was soft and small and hardly my own, but there

was no mistaking my honesty. Especially because it was probably also written all over my face. Still, he looked surprised

to hear me admit it. Hell, I was surprised to hear myself admit it.

He ran his fingers down my arms until they reached my hands, shaking them a little so I’d look up at him. “Is that why you

looked so terrified when I was telling that story?” he asked, and I was both embarrassed he could see right through me and

grateful I didn’t have to confess anything on my own.

“It wasn’t part of the plan.” I laughed, and he did too. “And then you were telling such an emotional story, and I’d been

trying to ignore my feelings for you all day, and it just felt like a lot all at once.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It was just a story.”

“You know better than I do that the fairy stories are never ‘just stories,’” I whispered.

“And you know now they have a different meaning for everyone. It doesn’t have to be so extreme as love and death. It can just be about inspiration, feeling, time.” His tone slipped back into the hypnotic, lyrical voice he used onstage.

“What does it mean to you?” I asked.

“Right now, it’s about cherishing the time I have with a beautiful woman before she’s gone. It’s about letting her in now,

no matter what might happen later.”

“Even if it’s dangerous?”

“Especially if it’s dangerous.” He smiled, and I wanted to trace the lines of his lips with my fingers.

“And the kiss?” I knew I was asking too many questions, but his certainty was soothing.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to,” he said, holding his palms up in surrender, “but I have a feeling

you might, so I think we should make it mean something.”

I swallowed. He watched. “What do you think it should mean?”

“A lot of questions tonight, huh?”

“You are the tour guide, aren’t you?” He chuckled at that and I relaxed further, my shoulders dropping an inch.

“Fair play,” he said. “I’m not proposing anything crazy here, Chels. I know you’re planning to leave, but all summer flings

end eventually, don’t they? Doesn’t make them any less worth it while they’re happening.”

The way he’d said planning to leave instead of leaving wasn’t lost on me, but I didn’t correct him.

“So you think we should just... have a fling?”

“Why are you saying it like I’m suggesting something insane?” He laughed. “Yes, Chels, I think we should have fun. I think

we should stop fighting what’s going on here and enjoy the next few weeks together. Feel however we feel, and let this run

whatever course it’s meant to run.”

I mulled it over, trying to keep my face arranged in a way that seemed totally cool and casual and not at all like I was freaking out.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is so easy.”

Silence stretched between us, long and charged, though Collin didn’t look like he wanted to be anywhere else. No rush, no

pressure, just patience.

“Where do we begin?” I asked eventually.

“Is that a yes?”

“Honestly, Collin, I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to,” I confessed. “But this is your territory, so you have to lead the

way.”

“Music to my ears,” he said. “And we’ve already begun, don’t you think?” He pulled me into him, resting a warm hand on the

side of my neck.

“I’m serious,” I said.

“You’re always serious.” Okay, rude. True, but rude. “So... We begin with a date. A real one.”

“I can handle a date.”

“But can you handle a ceilidh?”