Page 30 of An Irish Summer

“As long as you’re ready to hand those keys over,” I said. “And I want Galway.”

I wasn’t sure whether the sound that came out of his mouth was more of a gasp or a laugh, but it was loud enough to make me jump either way.

“She wants Galway,” he announced to no one in particular. “Proper culchie now, are ya?”

“Excuse me?” I said.

He laughed, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “Someone from outside of Dublin, that’s all. Not a city lass.”

“I am a city lass,” I said. “Just not that city.”

“And how’s your city treating ya?” he asked. The question hung in the air just long enough to sting before it dissolved into the crowd.

“Fine, thanks. I applied for a great job last week, actually,” I lied. “Event planning at a boutique hotel outside the city.” I made a mental note to actually apply when I was done running around Galway, doing whatever it was we were doing.

“Aye,” he said after a beat. The following silence was deafening, even in the roar of the stadium.

“So, do we have a deal?” I asked, trying to get back on track.

“It’s hard to say no to you, you know. Even if it does mean betting against my own city.”

“Game on, then.”

His smile returned, hitched up more on the right than the left, and I tried to let the moment slip behind us. There was no reason for it to be tense when we talked about my life in Boston, so I wouldn’t let it be. And I’d apply for the job when we got back to the Wanderer so I wasn’t a total liar.

The match moved at lightning speed, and I had to strain to hear Collin over the noise of the fans. He explained the rules, but between his accent and the jargon I wasn’t sure I caught a word. Not that it mattered. I knew how to read a scoreboard, more or less in this case, and I could see the numbers next to Galway were higher than the numbers next to Dublin. And I could see the wrinkles between Collin’s eyes deepening as the match neared the end.

“Have you recovered from the first loss?” I asked. “In time for the second loss, I mean?”

“Let me ask you something, Chelsea,” he said, leaning dangerously close to my ear. I put my hand around it as if to sayI’m listening. “Do you ever stop talkin’ shite?” he whispered.

“I thought I was supposed to be blending in with the locals.” I laughed. “But if you can’t handle a little friendly competition, you could have just said so.”

“I just thought you’d leave me with at least a shred of dignity, that’s all.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

“Kind of hard when it feels like you’re trying to keep it that way,” he said.

Before I had a chance to respond, a big, fat raindrop landed directly between my eyes. I turned my face to the sky just in time to watch it open. The rain was loud on the metal bleachers, and I couldn’t stop myself from putting my palms out like a child.

I turned to look at Collin, relieved to see the rain was enough of a distraction from our conversation. He pushed his hair from his eyes, then turned his palms up too.

“Told you it’d come bucketing down,” he said.

“Not a hard prediction in this country, is it?”

“There she goes again,” he said. “Taking every ounce of dignity I have left.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so willing to hand it over.”

“Keep myself closed off like you, should I?” He was smiling, but his words burned in my chest all the same.

“I am not—”

The final whistle of the match triggered an eruption in the crowd, and I turned back to the field just in time to see the celebration on the Galway side.

“Fair play,” Collin conceded, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up and down the length of my body. “You know how to pick ’em, don’t ya?”

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