Wearily, I climb the stairs, wondering not for the first time, what Micheál might be doing. I pull out my phone to see if he has rung, or at least sent a text message. It’s futile, really, as I had my phone right beside me on the table all afternoon in case he rang or texted and it did nothing.
I stand under the shower for a really long time allowing the water to wash over me. I recall Micheál’s touch and the sound of his voice and shudder with pleasure.
Cop on girl! He probably thinks that I’m some kind of stalker, turning up at his house like that this morning. And what about that girl, Siobhán? Is she his girlfriend? Is he just some kind of playboy?
I think about his words and the sincerity I heard in them. Maybe I’m the easy touch. Maybe I’m just a naive little fool happy to be taken in at the first cute guy who pays me any attention.
I scrub myself clean and get out of the shower, resolving to never approach another man again, and to cut that prick Micheál dead if I ever see him again.
Just as I’m finishing dressing, Ridlee comes through the door flushed and happy.
“Well, well, well, no need to ask what you’ve been up to,” I observe drily.
She grins devilishly. “Who knew that farmers could be so talented with their hands?”
“Well, I think you’ll find that it’s a well known fact actually, Rid.”
“Mmm…” She flops on the bed, sighing dreamily. “What’s the plan, Stan? You seeing Loverboy tonight?”
“I hardly think so. He’s probably doing something with his girlfriend.”
Ridlee sits up on the bed and pulls a face. “So it is his girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. Who else could it be—his mother?”
“Looked a bit young to be his mother,” admits my friend ruefully. “Never mind, Erin, plenty more fish in the sea, and we’re on the coast, so cheer up!”
“Fuck it. I’m done with men.”
“Right. So, what’s the plan for this evening?”
“I’ve got an appointment with a matchmaker in Lisdoonvarna.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RIDLEE
ERIN’S GRUMPY AND IN NO mood to hang out with old dudes making matches, but we go to the bar where Mr. O’Henry is holding court anyway and order a couple of pints. She slouches over her beer with a scowl on her face.
I nudge her on the arm. “Come on, cheer up. You don’t know for sure that’s his girlfriend. He didn’t look worried to me that you were standing there on the stoop, seeing her up there on his balcony.”
“He didn’t look worried because he’s probably used to it. He probably takes all the girls out on his punt and feels ‘em up on his little island.”
I lift an eyebrow, not sure whether I’m hearing about something that actually happened or some sort of Irish expression. “Punt? Island? Say what?”
She shakes her head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” After taking a long pull from her beer, she sits there like a zombie, not even bothering to wipe off her foamy mustache.
I use a bar napkin to clean her up and put my arm around her, squeezing her tight against my side. “Okay, you get ten more minutes of pity party and then you’re done.”
“I need more like ten days.”
I look at my watch. “Nine minutes. You have nine minutes left.” I let her shoulders go and leave her to wallow, knowing she just needs to get this battle over with in her head and then she’ll be back to her old sassy self. Erin never lets a guy get under her skin for long. I’m actually kind of surprised that she cares so much about this particular one. He is, after all, Irish, and she hates Ireland.
I feel a presence behind me before I hear his voice. Turning in my stool, I take in the cream-colored wool sweater and the jeans as his words come to me.
“Evenin’, Ridlee. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
My grin stretches from one side of my face to another. Man, he sure does clean up nice. “Hello, Donal. Are you following me?” I give him a saucy wink, sure we’re about to embark on a seriously fun flirting session. It’s so different, to be doing it with a man who always keeps me guessing like he does. Half the time I think he knows exactly what he’s doing and the other half I’m thinking he’s completely clueless. I cannot figure him out and that’s a first for me.
He smiles, a rare thing for him. And if I’m not mistaken, his face takes on a reddish tint. “Following you? No, not that I’m aware.”
“Would you like a Guinness?” I ask, holding up my pint as an example of the black goodness that could await, should he decide to stay a while and order one.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he says, taking mine from me and finishing it in one giant gulp. He looks off in the distance as he puts the glass down on the bar.
I’m left sitting there speechless.
“Well, hello, Donal,” Erin says, turning around to face us. “Fancy meeting you here. Is this supposed to be a date or something? Am I the third wheel now?” Her bitterness level has creeped up to nine at this point.
“A date?” he asks, sounding a little scared. “Me?” He looks at me. “And her?” He takes a step back, once more glancing around the bar. “No, there’s no date. Not for me.”
I frown at the hurt feelings that shoot through me at his full-force rejection. This is making no sense. I thought we were flirting. Weren’t we? I mean, we spent half a day together and had a ball. Or at least, I was having a ball. I rode on his Big Dick. He showed me his crops and his barn and his plans for expansion. I’ve never seen a gentler, sexier man than this giant before me, and now he’s acting like I’m some sort of stalker woman trying to trap him into a date? I look around the room, wondering what kind of witch is casting this crazy, effed up spell on us.
That’s when my eyes fall on Henry O’Henry. We lock gazes and he nods his head once.
I grab my purse from the back of my chair and slide off it to the floor. “Come on, Erin. Time to go make a match.” Escape is my plan. It’s not elegant, but it’s better than sitting here on this stool feeling like a desperate fool.
“What? Wait. I’m not done with my beer.” She slides off her stool to the floor too, looking from Donal to me.
“Take it with you.” I grab it and thrust it out at her.
“You’re here to see Henry?” Donal asks.
My heart is kind of burning in my chest, maybe with a little pain involved, so I can’t look him in the eye. “Yep. Gonna go find us some true love. Excuse me.” I push past him and go straight for the corner of the room, Henry O’Henry in my sights.
“What in the hell was that all about?” Erin asks me, whispering loudly in my ear as we move across the room.
“Nothing at all.” I’m barely holding in my anger. How dare he act like we didn’t connect today. How dare he hurt my feelings like that. I’m not just some girl…
My heart fell down into my abdomen as I realized that this is exactly what I am to him. Just some girl, here visiting from another country, leaving in a few days. Why was I thinking anything different? I must be insane. This Irish mojo is really messing with my head.
“Hello, Mr. O’Henry,” I say as we approach his chair. He’s facing out into the bar, using a tiny side table as his desk. His log book is sitting on it, closed. There are two people nearby, but they don’t appear to be using his services. I say this because both of them are about a hundred years old. “Do you remember me?” I ask.
“Indeed an’ I do. It’s Ridlee from America, isn’t it? And how are ye this fine evenin’?”
“I’m great. And how are you?” I turn on the charm, relieved to have something to do other than nurse my hurt feelings.