Page 67 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

A tall guy steps in casually.

“Hey,” he says.

Nathan nods. “Hey.”

I feel like some guys communicate very differently to us girls, one word is apparently enough.

Since I’m physically incapable ofnotbeing a hugger, I step forward. “Hi! I’m Nataly!”

He gives me a small smile. “Niall,” he says before I wrap him in a quick hug.

Niall. The pilot. Ohhh, this is going to be fun. My brain is already spinning with questions.Do pilots get unlimited peanuts? Do you only go first class now when you’re on vacation and think of us peasants in economy? Do you secretly judge people who clap when the plane lands or do you love it?

Nathan slides a hand to my back, his fingers curlinggently against the fabric of my shirt as he looks at me. That little smile—the one where he already knows where my brain is spiraling—tugs at his lips.

And wow, I love this about him. I’ve got amotormouth. I can talk for days, filling silences with endless thoughts, and sometimes I put my foot straight in my mouth. Some people might think I come on too strong. But Nathan?

Nathan just smiles.

Like he enjoys it. Like I’m something to be treasured, not toned down. Like he’s proud to have me by his side—not trying to tone me down, not even a little.

My heart swells, and I can’t fight the mischievous little grin that creeps up.Alright then.

“I have some questions for you…”

We finished up Sunday lunch at Gran’s house. It went pretty well, I think. I asked plenty of questions and got to know a little more about Sarah & Niall, as well as Graham’s love for natural pressed juices. He’s studied a lot about them. I can tell he’s passionate about it. Gran was also a sweetheart. I still, of course, felt a teeny bit shy compared to my normal overly-bursting self being in a new group of people. I don’t know that the ‘new girl’ feeling will ever fully go away whenever I’m in a crowd of new people. But, that’s okay.

The cheese pudding was also unlike something I’ve ever tasted before. It was what the label says. A pudding of cheese. It’s warm and hearty. Perfect, especially for a cold day outside when you want to be warmed up from the insides out.

Now, Nathan and I are hopping back into the van. He opens my door—chivalry is very much alive, ladies—and presses his hand to my back as I hop in.

Shivers. Actual shivers.

His hand lingers just a second longer than necessary. Intentional? I hope so.

I shoot him a grin as he gets in beside me. “Okay, where to?”

That smile. That dangerous, melting kind of smile.

“Newcastle,” he says.

I blink. “There’s another Newcastle?”

He chuckles as he pulls onto the road. “The one in England is Newcastle upon Tyne. This one is just Newcastle.” His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel. “It’s a beach town. I used to go there every summer. I want to show you my favorite beach.”

Beaches are my thing. My heart thing. There’s something about the waves, the endless horizon, the smell of salt in the air that feels like home.

“You had me at beach,” I say, beaming.

The drive is quiet as the scenery shifts—rolling hills, winding roads, the kind of landscape that reminds me of studying W.B. Yeats in English Lit. And the sun is still out. Apparently, a rare Northern Irish phenomenon. I’ll take it.

Then, as we pass the Mourne Mountains, something clicks.

Wait. WAIT.

I grab his arm. “Nathan.”

He laughs. “What?”

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