Page 15 of An Irish Summer

“Didn’t quite have you pegged as a morning person, that’s all.”

“And what did you have me pegged as, hmm?” I crossed my arms, knowing I was taking the bait.

“Oh, you know. Just away with the fairies is all.”

I most certainly did not know. His accent was challenging enough on its own, made only more difficult by the slew of idioms I didn’t understand.

“Away with the fairies?” I asked.

“Just out of touch a bit. Distracted. Like your body is here, but your mind is someplace else.” That was putting it lightly.

“Does being away with the fairies mean I get to miss the early morning ridicule?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him. “Do I get to do whatever the fairies are doing instead?”

“Aye, you want to know about the fairies?” He ignored my jab, and I watched his eyes light up at my question.

“You may have piqued my interest,” I confessed.

“I don’t know if you’re ready yet,” he mused, eyebrows lowered as he pretended to study me. “Fairy stories can’t be wasted on skeptics.” The longer we stared at each other, the more I realized he was serious.

“So you’re a storyteller too, huh?” I asked. “That’s your, what, eighth job here? Ninth?” I pretended to count on my fingers, though I really couldn’t keep track.

“Storytelling is not a job,” he said, still serious. “It’s an art. Especially in Ireland.”

Duly noted. My cheeks reddened at yet another thing I felt I should have known before I arrived. Or maybe at the way he sounded when he was talking about art.

I checked my watch, secretly hoping it was time to return to the Wanderer and get to work. There was a certain intimacy creeping into the early morning that I wasn’t prepared for, and I needed to get myself in check before he could see the effect he had on me.

“Always eager to get to the next thing, are ya?” he asked, nodding toward my wrist. For a man with a million jobs, he seemed to have plenty of time for observation.

“Just want to make sure I’m not late,” I replied, forcing his question to stay on the surface. If I let it in any deeper, I might have to consider it.

“Ah, you’ve got plenty of time for that still. Mornings are slow in Galway.”

“So I’m learning.” We fell into step beside each other, tracing the path back toward the hostel.

“I’m thinking we start your formal education this weekend. Neither of us has to work on Friday, so we can jump right in.”

“How do you know I don’t have to work on Friday?”

“Schedule’s posted in the staff room,” he said, smiling in away that made me want to roll my eyes out of my head and into the pond.

“Sounds like you have it all figured out, then,” I said. “Do you even need me?”

“Deal’s a deal,” he said. “We shook on it, remember? You wanted nothing to do with Ireland, I charmed you into agreeing to let me show you the country, now you’re bound to fall in love with it before the summer’s over... ringing any bells?”

I wish I didn’t remember, I wanted to say.I wish I hadn’t been thinking about the feeling of my hand in yours since you let it go.

“Friday it is,” I said eventually, taking a deep breath.

“Right then,” he said. “You can exhale, you know. I’ll go easy on ya at the beginning. We can start slow. Work our way up to the big stuff.”

“Do I even want to ask what the big stuff is?”

“All in good time,” he said. I hummed, and we walked in silence the rest of the way. For a supposed storyteller, he was painfully cryptic. I had a feeling the week was going to crawl to Friday, which meant I was going to have to find a way to pass the time that didn’t involve trying to uncover Collin Finegan’s secrets.

We reached the hostel just as the night staff was turning over, and Flo was already laying out a small breakfast buffet. As soon as the bell chimed above the door, she snapped her head in our direction.

“Good morning, you two,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the buffet table. “I take it drinks went well last night?”

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