Page 98 of Bad Bishop
“We do terrible things for family.”
“You consider me family?” A warm tremor passed through my chest.
He jerked his head in a nod. “Now, what do you consider romantic?”
I was out of ideas. I never had a boyfriend, and the little curated romance my mother allowed me to consume, in the form of books and old films, was set either in a fantasy world or a war.
“I don’t know. What do you usually do to woo a woman?”
“Tip her handsomely.”
Good point. I rubbed the space between my eyebrows.
“We can go on a date.” He dropped his gaze to his wingtips.
“No, thank you.”
He lifted an eyebrow questioningly.
“You acted like a jackass yesterday and then gifted me a human penis.”
“Make you a deal. If you go out with me, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
“What kind of woman would exchange her favors for money?” I stared at him, scandalized.
“Most of them.”
“That’s very misogynistic.”
“I happen to share the same sentiment about men. Humans are easily corruptible. It’s how I stay in business. So. Date?”
“No.”
“If you come, I’ll answer any of your questions, nothing off limits. You’ll get an hour.”
This did the trick. I was thirsty for his words, for his story. He watched my face intently, knowing his offer was too good to pass up.
“Bastard.”
He grinned. “Get your jacket.”
_______
We went downstairs to Fermanagh’s.
The place was hot, humid, and stank of sweat, stale alcohol, and fried food.
As soon as the patrons spotted us, they stood from their seats, clapping and whistling, like we were some kind of royalty. Tiernan slung his arm over my shoulder, yanking me to his side. A mixture of pride and embarrassment fizzed in my stomach. I’d spent my entire life trying to avoid attention just to land in the center of it now.
My husband’s eye landed on a table at the far corner of the pub, and the two men occupying it immediately grabbed their pints and shuffled to the bar. Tiernan pulled out a chair for me, but I chose to slide into the long, red vinyl couch opposite his seat.
Before we managed to settle, Fintan materialized with two sticky menus and a broad smile. “Hello there, brother, sister-in-law.” He bowed exaggeratedly. “What can I get ya?”
“I’ll have a pint and vinegar crisps.”
“All right. Lila?” Fintan turned to me.
“Lemonade with some ice, please.” I smiled.
