Page 69 of An Irish Summer

“Collin,” I said with a laugh as I took a second to look around myself. “There are tons of people out here.”

“If bytonsyou mean those few smoking and that couple behind the tractor who may or may not be shagging, then yes, there are tons.” He tightened his grip on my hips and dropped his forehead to mine, which instantly made me forget the people I’d been worried about a second ago.

“So you’re the guy who kisses on the first date, huh?” I whispered.

“I’m whatever guy you want me to be.” He touched our noses together, and my sharp inhale echoed in the silence. “Just say the word,” he said. “Am I the guy who kisses on the first date?” His hands found their way up to my waist. “Yes”—he squeezed—“or no.”

His breath tickled my lips, and I had to suppress a groan that almost escaped my throat. Our kiss the other night did nothing to dissolve my nerves, and the intimacy of the darkness outside the barn threatened to undo me before he could.

A month ago, I might have said there were a thousand versions of the man I wanted Collin to be. Someone who understood the city life I thought I wanted; someone who wasn’t hell-bent on getting under my skin and keeping me up at night; someone who didn’t draw me to him like a magnet no matter how hard I tried to resist.

But in that moment, pressed up against the barn with his lips an inch from mine, he was exactly who I wanted, exactly as he was.

“Yes,” I breathed, and before the syllable was even out of my mouth, his lips were on mine, hot and desperate. The moan I’d tried to suppress rolled out of me the second he pressed the length of his body against mine. I laced my fingers through his hair, already wishing he was closer. Wishing there was nothing between us at all.

He ran his fingers down my body until they were under my thighs, lifting me so I was wrapped around him, holding me like I weighed nothing at all. His biceps flexed under my hands, and the noise he made when I trailed my fingernails up the back of his neck was enough to make me forget we were in public entirely.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he mumbled with his lips against my jaw. “Watching you on that dance floor, the way you move your body—”

“Are you sure you were watching the right girl?” I teased. “Because the way I move my body on a dance floor is—”

“Intoxicating,” he finished, kissing me again before I could argue. The firmness of his fingers on my thighs threatened to leave a bruise. While I was certain I’d never forget this kiss, I was secretly thrilled at the idea of having something tangible to remember it by in the morning.

As I wrapped my legs tighter around him, trying to feel every hard ridge of his body, we heard an unmistakable throat clearing entirely too close for comfort.

Flo stood nearby with her arms crossed, clucking her tongue and shaking her head slowly. “You two are lucky that was so hot.” She looked amused as Collin set me back on the floor. “Otherwise, it’s so cliché.”

“Ah, Flo, hi, we were just—”

“You’re right,” Collin interrupted my fumbling. “We are lucky that was so hot.”

I elbowed him in the ribs, but it did nothing to wipe the smirk off his face. Thankfully, it was impossible to scandalize Flo. I had a feeling she might have watched for a few minutes before making herself known.

“You two.” More head shaking. “I came out to tell you thatwe’re leaving, just in case you wanted to head home together. But if you want to do your own thing, I can leave and pretend this never happened, yes?”

“Well, you’ve ruined the mood now, haven’t ya?” Collin teased. “We’ll meet you at the front in a minute.”

“I’m holding you to a minute,” Flo said. “Any longer and we’re leaving without you.”

Collin saluted her as she rolled her eyes and headed back to the entrance, then turned his gaze back to me.

“Some way to end a date,” I said with a fake pout.

“Chelsea, this date could have ended in the apocalypse, and it still would have been the best date I’ve ever been on.”

“Which is a good thing, I guess, since it would be your last.”

“The thought of only getting one date with you is even more frightening than the apocalypse itself,” he said, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Especially if that one date ends with us being interrupted by Flo. Please say you want to do this again.”

His candor was so disarming I would have been hopeless in resisting, even if I wanted to.

“I’d like that,” I said without hesitation. After the whirlwind of the last few hours, agreeing to a second date was the easiest thing I’d done all night.

Fortunately, our night ended alongside everyone else’s when we returned to the Wanderer, which was for the best because anything more would have made me forget about Fayola altogether, and I needed to focus on my plans for her event.

Since reception was slow the morning after the ceilidh, I spent half my shift googling phrases like “can you drink alcohol at high tea,” “champagne tea castle Ireland,” and “customvintage dress fitting.” Eventually, Fayola’s event began to materialize before me. There might be a way to please all four women after all.

Between checking in guests and answering the phone, I made a few of my own calls to set things in motion. My fingers hovered over Collin’s name on my phone while I contemplated whether it was too soon to ask a favor. We hadn’t spoken since we’d said good night in the hall, and I wasn’t sure if it was tacky to ask for something before so much as saying good morning. Then I reminded myself it was a work-related favor, and we were, in fact, coworkers, so I called. While it was ringing, I chastised myself for nearly letting one good date interfere with my job.

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