Page 35 of Our Radiant Embers

We snagged a couple of bar chairs in an alcove, aged wood framing tall, arched windows that offered a partial view of the palatial building across the road. A drink rail served as our table. I tried to ignore how the lack of space pushed us close together, knees bumping, while around us, local gossip, political debates, and travel tales blended into a low-level buzz of conversation. The sweet, bready scent of beer hung in the air.

After the kind of deliberation that hinted pubs weren’t his usual routine, Adam had ordered a pint of Oliver’s Island ale. I watched him dip a finger into the foamy head on top. When he brought it to his mouth, I glanced away.

Deliberate? Maybe.

I wrapped a hand around my pint glass. “Okay, so. Question for you.”

He slid me a bright look. “Who am I wearing?”

“Someone who’s in the ‘if you have to ask, you can’t afford it’ category, no doubt.” I snorted. “No—if our proposal really goes through?—”

“It will,” Adam interjected.

“—wouldn’t it usually take, like, a year to organise permits and things like the environmental impact assessment and all?”

“Ah.” Adam took a sip of his ale and then wiped his mouth. “Someone asked the internet, it seems.”

Guilty as charged. “I figured asking you would prompt another monologue about how unprepared my family is for a project of this size.”

“One, rude.” His voice dipped. “Two, you are. But for better or worse, we’re in it together. So.”

I felt my jaw tighten, exhaled, and swallowed my protest. His tone had lacked disdain, and he was right—of course I was unprepared. Woefully so. If sheer insanity had swayed the government into handing the job to only me, I would have regretfully declined.

“We’re in it together?” I repeated instead, letting a grin twitch around my mouth. “Not how I would describe your initial reaction.”

“Let’s just say…” Adam didn’t finish, opting for another mouthful of ale instead. I watched his throat, caught myself, and drank from my own glass, slightly too aware of the press of Adam’s knee.

“Let’s just say…?”

“Certain members of my family were displeased to learn it was a joint venture.” Self-deprecating humour tinged Adam’s voice. Oh, I could just imagine his father’s reaction—Benedict Harrington had a reputation, and adjectives like easygoing and pleasant were conspicuously absent. No reason to believe he’d be more lenient with the son who carried the sole burden of the family’s expectations.

“Certain members of your family,” I told Adam, “need to get over themselves.”

Adam shrugged, his suit jacket shifting with the motion. “This project is a huge deal, Liam.”

“Oh.” I widened my eyes at him. “Thanks. I wasn’t aware.”

“Chill. I wasn’t casting shade, okay?” He sent me a quick smile while somewhere behind us, a glass clattered to the ground, followed by laughter and hollering. I had to lean in to catch Adam’s next words. “I’m just trying to explain why my family cares a lot more than they did, say, about the Kellys’ security overhaul. Words like legacy were thrown around.”

What other words had they thrown around, I wondered. Affront? Grounds for lethal action? They wouldn’t be that reckless, though—and strangely enough, I trusted Adam. Just not his family.

“For the sake of my sanity,” I said, “can we agree that going forward, it’s still you and me? Because if I have to deal with your father ...”

“Actually, I’d pay good money to see that.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Adam tucked a laugh into his palm. “I’m honoured by your desire to spend more time with me.”

“It’s all relative. If the choice is between the plague, cholera, and a mildly irritating cold…” I followed it up with a wink to show I was teasing.

“Mildly irritating, huh?” Adam glanced over his shoulder before he focused on me again, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “That’s not how it seemed when you had me on my knees.”

Yeah, all right—definitely deliberate. It occurred to me that the last time we’d had pints together…yeah. Well.

“I’m a poor judge of character when most of my blood is south of my beltline.” Another wink, and this was…flirting. I was flirting with Adam. Bad idea. Terrible idea. “Anyway, so what I meant to ask before you derailed this conversation…If our proposal goes through, when do you expect construction to start?”

It was admittedly late in the game for me to ask that question. But it had all seemed so abstract before and like I’d jinx it by considering the practicalities. I was unprepared, completely so.

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