Page 31 of An Irish Summer

“If I can squeeze you into my schedule.” I sighed. “I’ve been so busy seeing the country and appreciating the culture that

I’m not sure when I can find time to date, and I just—”

He pinched my waist hard enough to make me squeal, then immediately softened his grip and ran his fingers over the spot that stung.

I risked another glance up at him, but the heat in his gaze was so intense I had to look away before I melted on the dance

floor.

With my head against his chest and his strong hands tracing patterns over my back, everything outside that moment was forgotten.

For a few blissful minutes there was no Boston, no job applications, no résumés or studio apartments I couldn’t afford. There

was only the ceilidh, the security of Collin’s arms around me, and the rest of the summer stretching its languid arms out

before us. And for the first time, it didn’t feel so terrifying.

It felt good .

By the time the caller returned to her platform we’d been too deep in the bubble of our slow dance to recover that level of

energy, and I was relieved to be ushered off the dance floor before the band restarted the upbeat trad music.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Collin whispered as we made our way back to the table where I’d left my bag.

“Are you propositioning me?” I teased.

“If the proposition is to get some fresh air and a moment alone, then yes. Very much so.”

“Lead the way.”

He pulled me by my hand through the crowd and out of the barn, looking around for spectators before dragging me around the

side of the building and pushing me up against the wall.

“Collin,” I said with a laugh as I took a second to look around myself. “There are tons of people out here.”

“If by tons you mean those few smoking and that couple behind the tractor who may or may not be shagging, then yes, there are tons.” He

tightened his grip on my hips and dropped his forehead to mine, which instantly made me forget the people I’d been worried

about a second ago.

“So you’re the guy who kisses on the first date, huh?” I whispered.

“I’m whatever guy you want me to be.” He touched our noses together, and my sharp inhale echoed in the silence. “Just say

the word,” he said. “Am I the guy who kisses on the first date?” His hands found their way up to my waist. “Yes”—he squeezed—“or

no.”

His breath tickled my lips, and I had to suppress a groan that almost escaped my throat. Our kiss the other night did nothing

to dissolve my nerves, and the intimacy of the darkness outside the barn threatened to undo me before he could.

A month ago, I might have said there were a thousand versions of the man I wanted Collin to be. Someone who understood the

city life I thought I wanted; someone who wasn’t hell-bent on getting under my skin and keeping me up at night; someone who

didn’t draw me to him like a magnet no matter how hard I tried to resist.

But in that moment, pressed up against the barn with his lips an inch from mine, he was exactly who I wanted, exactly as he

was.

“Yes,” I breathed, and before the syllable was even out of my mouth, his lips were on mine, hot and desperate. The moan I’d

tried to suppress rolled out of me the second he pressed the length of his body against mine. I laced my fingers through his

hair, already wishing he was closer. Wishing there was nothing between us at all.

He ran his fingers down my body until they were under my thighs, lifting me so I was wrapped around him, holding me like I weighed nothing at all.

His biceps flexed under my hands, and the noise he made when I trailed my fingernails up the back of his neck was enough to make me forget we were in public entirely.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he mumbled with his lips against my jaw. “Watching you on that dance floor, the

way you move your body—”

“Are you sure you were watching the right girl?” I teased. “Because the way I move my body on a dance floor is—”

“Intoxicating,” he finished, kissing me again before I could argue. The firmness of his fingers on my thighs threatened to

leave a bruise. While I was certain I’d never forget this kiss, I was secretly thrilled at the idea of having something tangible

to remember it by in the morning.

As I wrapped my legs tighter around him, trying to feel every hard ridge of his body, we heard an unmistakable throat clearing

entirely too close for comfort.

Flo stood nearby with her arms crossed, clucking her tongue and shaking her head slowly. “You two are lucky that was so hot.”

She looked amused as Collin set me back on the floor. “Otherwise, it’s so cliché.”

“Ah, Flo, hi, we were just—”

“You’re right,” Collin interrupted my fumbling. “We are lucky that was so hot.”

I elbowed him in the ribs, but it did nothing to wipe the smirk off his face. Thankfully, it was impossible to scandalize

Flo. I had a feeling she might have watched for a few minutes before making herself known.

“You two.” More head shaking. “I came out to tell you that we’re leaving, just in case you wanted to head home together. But if you want to do your own thing, I can leave and pretend this never happened, yes?”

“Well, you’ve ruined the mood now, haven’t ya?” Collin teased. “We’ll meet you at the front in a minute.”

“I’m holding you to a minute,” Flo said. “Any longer and we’re leaving without you.”

Collin saluted her as she rolled her eyes and headed back to the entrance, then turned his gaze back to me.

“Some way to end a date,” I said with a fake pout.

“Chelsea, this date could have ended in the apocalypse, and it still would have been the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“Which is a good thing, I guess, since it would be your last.”

“The thought of only getting one date with you is even more frightening than the apocalypse itself,” he said, pushing a stray

lock of hair behind my ear. “Especially if that one date ends with us being interrupted by Flo. Please say you want to do

this again.”

His candor was so disarming I would have been hopeless in resisting, even if I wanted to.

“I’d like that,” I said without hesitation. After the whirlwind of the last few hours, agreeing to a second date was the easiest

thing I’d done all night.

Fortunately, our night ended alongside everyone else’s when we returned to the Wanderer, which was for the best because anything

more would have made me forget about Fayola altogether, and I needed to focus on my plans for her event.

Since reception was slow the morning after the ceilidh, I spent half my shift googling phrases like “can you drink alcohol at high tea,” “champagne tea castle Ireland,” and “custom vintage dress fitting.” Eventually, Fayola’s event began to materialize before me.

There might be a way to please all four women after all.

Between checking in guests and answering the phone, I made a few of my own calls to set things in motion. My fingers hovered

over Collin’s name on my phone while I contemplated whether it was too soon to ask a favor. We hadn’t spoken since we’d said

good night in the hall, and I wasn’t sure if it was tacky to ask for something before so much as saying good morning. Then

I reminded myself it was a work-related favor, and we were, in fact, coworkers, so I called. While it was ringing, I chastised

myself for nearly letting one good date interfere with my job.

Moments after I hung up the phone, Collin was leaning on the reception desk, wiping his hands on the bar rag hanging from

his back pocket.

“You rang?” he asked, crossing his arms. His sleeves were rolled just above his elbows, exposing the ink that crept down his

arms.

“You have that connection at the Kylemore Abbey, right?” I asked, trying to remind myself why I called in the first place.

“Ah, it’s Eamon you’re looking for, is it?” he said. “Just when you think a girl comes looking for you—”

“Oh, come off it.” I laughed. “Can I ask a favor?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“That’s not how favors work.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, turning toward the door.

“Collin.”

“I’m just taking the piss.” He grinned, returning to the desk, shrinking the space between us. “What can I do for ya?”

I gave him the rundown of my plans for Fayola and her friends, trying and failing to ignore the way he was smiling at me while I spoke.

“What?” I asked eventually. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You love it here,” he said. “Deny it all you want, but the Wanderer is becoming just as much a part of you as the rest of

us.”

“It is not,” I said, but I couldn’t keep a straight face no matter how hard I tried. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Like I said, deny it all you want. I know the truth, just know that.” His smug grin made it even harder to suppress my smile.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Do you want the favor or not?” he said. “Last time I checked, only one of us had Eamon’s number.”

I groaned, having no choice but to admit he was right. About Eamon, anyway.

“That’s what I thought.” He beamed, pulling out his phone and making a show of calling Eamon. I tried not to roll my eyes,

because I really was grateful he was phoning this in.

After a few minutes of enthusiastic conversation and a handful of Irish phrases I didn’t recognize, Collin informed me we

had a reservation for the brunch tent.

“You’re all set then,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Leading my eyes to the sliver of skin above his waistband.

“I can’t thank you enough,” I said. “Seriously. Fayola and her friends will be thrilled.”

“I didn’t do this for Fayola and her friends,” he said, heat creeping into his gaze.

“Collin,” I chastised, swatting at him, but failing when he caught my wrist in his hand.

“And I don’t think you did either.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off.

“And don’t even say you did it for your résumé, because we both know that isn’t the truth.

You did it because you love it here.” He let go of my hand and pushed off the counter, heading back down the hallway before I could say another word.

How it was possible for someone to be at once so charming and so infuriating, I had no idea.

But I did have work to do, and it didn’t matter why I was doing it. There had to be some separation of church and state, or

something like that. Except for the fact that I’d never been to church, the idea of Collin standing in for where I’d get on

my knees and pray was doing the opposite of what I needed it to do.

I physically shook my head like the motion would somehow dislodge every indecent thought. I settled my hands over the keyboard

like a pianist getting ready for a performance. In a way, this was my art, and I needed to treat it as such.

Fortunately, once things were settled at the abbey everything else fell into place. Since I’d grown accustomed to Boston attitudes

over the years, it was a pleasant surprise to speak with vendors who seemed interested in pleasing their customers. Either

that or I was just really getting the hang of my life here, which I wasn’t prepared to acknowledge.

By the time Fayola and her friends returned from exploring the town, I was ready to present them with a plan.

“Oh, girl, you work fast,” she said, complimenting me as they settled into the lobby. “You must have been made for this job.”

I tried to laugh, but it got stuck in my throat. “I’d hold on to that endorsement until you see the plans,” I said. “Let’s

make sure you’re pleased first.”

I was met with four pairs of expectant brown eyes, but I didn’t feel nervous. I had a good feeling about this one.

“So,” I continued, “I’m thinking champagne tea at the Kylemore Abbey. They do one on Thursdays, and I’ve secured a private

tent for you in the garden.”

“That’s perfect,” one of the women said, clapping her hands together.

“That’s not all.” I was suddenly giddy to give them the rest of the pitch. “I’ve also arranged for a vintage dress fitting.

People often dress up for the champagne tea at the abbey, so I have some rental dresses arranged for the four of you. Period

pieces, that kind of thing.”

“Stop,” Fayola gasped. “You’re lying.”

“Cross my heart.” I smiled, and the women talked over one another sharing their excitement.

“And you just put this together this morning?” one asked, grabbing my forearm.

“Yeah, I mean, it was just a few calls, really, and—”

“Can I praise you now?” Fayola interrupted.

“Go to the event first,” I said. “Then we can talk.”

“And you’re sure it was no problem to get us in on such short notice?”

“Positive,” I said. “I have a connection.”

Fayola jumped off the couch and threw her arms around me, pulling away only to thank me profusely on behalf of the four of

them.

Maybe Collin was right. Maybe I wasn’t giving myself enough credit, and I actually was better at making connections than I

thought.