Page 13 of Taming Irish

A few times I have to close my eyes and clench my teeth to keep from letting out a little squeal as she weaves through the narrow streets. And I understand why Colleen didn’t recommend me getting a rentalcar.

It’s not just driving on the opposite side of the road, or how unnatural making any turn is, but it’s the speed at which the other drivers approach, looking like they’re about to take off your mirror as they pass. A few times, I have to force myself not to let out the gasp that forms in my throat as Nora navigates throughtraffic.

As we start west, the roads turn into more of a highway, and I’m able torelax.

“So, this is yer first time to Ireland?” Nora asks, tucking her hair behind one ear and exposing more than a handful ofpiercings.

“First time outside of North America,” I admit, taking in the rolling green hills that replace the old buildings ofDublin.

“I know why my sister wanted to do this, but she didn’t tell me why ye want to comehere.”

I shrug. “Just needed achange.”

“Well, if endless fields of sheep are what ye’re looking for, then ye came to the right place.” She gives me a side-glance andwinks.

“I’m kind of looking forward to the quiet.” Or rather, the seclusion. The lack of prying eyes wondering if I’m going to eventually lose my shit again, like the tabloidsreported.

Not that they were completely wrong. The large dent I’d put in the side of Chad’s Mazda convertible, the one I’d bought with my own hard-earned cash that he somehow convinced the judge belonged to him, wasn’t my smartest move. Not when his apartment cameras had picked up the images of me doing it. And then, the bastard had sold them to the paparazzi with a sob story about me being a crazy stalker who couldn’t come to terms that he’d movedon.

Asshole.

“Are ye a writer like my sister?” Noraasks.

“No.”

“Really?” She lifts one blonde brow, the one with the piercing through it. “Ye’ve got that look aboutye.”

“Whatlook?”

“The dreamer look. Same as Colleen. She always had that look, like she was searching for something. Something she couldn’t find here. That’s why she left.” Nora shrugs. “But maybethisis whereyerstory starts. It islovethat ye’re lookingfor?”

“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “It’s what I’m trying toforget.”

She frowns. “So ye’re running from a brokenheart?”

“Isuppose.”

“Well, ye won’t have many men to bother ye in our small town. Nothing exciting ever happens here. Unless ye’re a Wild Irishfan.”

“WildIrish?”

“The band.” She blinks at me like I’ve just grown two heads. “Ye really don’t know who theyare?”

“No. ShouldI?”

“What rock have ye been living under? They’re only the hottest rock band to come out of Ireland since U2. Here…” She picks up her phone and scrolls through it. A second later a familiar song begins to play through the speakers. “Ye have to have heardthis.”

“I see her face. Blurred by time. Arms outstretched, but nevermine…”

I know thesong.

“I have. Just didn’t know the band’sname.”

She gives a small, dissatisfied grunt, then says with a touch of pride, “They grew up in the next town over. I can introduce ye if yewant.”

The last thing I need is another celebrity in my life, but I can tell Nora is proud of her connection, and I don’t want to burst herbubble.

“They still livethere?”

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