Page 70 of An Irish Summer

Moments after I hung up the phone, Collin was leaning on the reception desk, wiping his hands on the bar rag hanging from his back pocket.

“You rang?” he asked, crossing his arms. His sleeves were rolled just above his elbows, exposing the ink that crept down his arms.

“You have that connection at the Kylemore Abbey, right?” I asked, trying to remind myself why I called in the first place.

“Ah, it’s Eamon you’re looking for, is it?” he said. “Just when you think a girl comes looking for you—”

“Oh, come off it.” I laughed. “Can I ask a favor?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“That’s not how favors work.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, turning toward the door.

“Collin.”

“I’m just taking the piss.” He grinned, returning to the desk, shrinking the space between us. “What can I do for ya?”

I gave him the rundown of my plans for Fayola and herfriends, trying and failing to ignore the way he was smiling at me while I spoke.

“What?” I asked eventually. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You love it here,” he said. “Deny it all you want, but the Wanderer is becoming just as much a part of you as the rest of us.”

“It is not,” I said, but I couldn’t keep a straight face no matter how hard I tried. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Like I said, deny it all you want. I know the truth, just know that.” His smug grin made it even harder to suppress my smile.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Do you want the favor or not?” he said. “Last time I checked, only one of us had Eamon’s number.”

I groaned, having no choice but to admit he was right. About Eamon, anyway.

“That’s what I thought.” He beamed, pulling out his phone and making a show of calling Eamon. I tried not to roll my eyes, because I really was grateful he was phoning this in.

After a few minutes of enthusiastic conversation and a handful of Irish phrases I didn’t recognize, Collin informed me we had a reservation for the brunch tent.

“You’re all set then,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Leading my eyes to the sliver of skin above his waistband.

“I can’t thank you enough,” I said. “Seriously. Fayola and her friends will be thrilled.”

“I didn’t do this for Fayola and her friends,” he said, heat creeping into his gaze.

“Collin,” I chastised, swatting at him, but failing when he caught my wrist in his hand.

“And I don’t think you did either.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off. “And don’t even say you did it for your résumé, because we both know that isn’t the truth. You did it because you love it here.” He let go of my hand and pushed off the counter, heading back down the hallway before I could say another word. How it was possible for someone to be at once so charming and so infuriating, I had no idea.

But I did have work to do, and it didn’t matter why I was doing it. There had to be some separation of church and state, or something like that. Except for the fact that I’d never been to church, the idea of Collin standing in for where I’d get on my knees and pray was doing the opposite of what I needed it to do.

I physically shook my head like the motion would somehow dislodge every indecent thought. I settled my hands over the keyboard like a pianist getting ready for a performance. In a way, this was my art, and I needed to treat it as such.

Fortunately, once things were settled at the abbey everything else fell into place. Since I’d grown accustomed to Boston attitudes over the years, it was a pleasant surprise to speak with vendors who seemed interested in pleasing their customers. Either that or I was just really getting the hang of my life here, which I wasn’t prepared to acknowledge.

By the time Fayola and her friends returned from exploring the town, I was ready to present them with a plan.

“Oh, girl, you work fast,” she said, complimenting me as they settled into the lobby. “You must have been made for this job.”

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