Page 69 of One Night Only
I take the hint, reaching for one of the small booklets in front of us. “What’s your poison?”
“I think whiskey’s their specialty.”
I do my best to look enthused, remembering what happened the last time I tried it.
“They do a tasting session on Thursdays,” Matthias continues, reading the menu. “We should see if they can—”
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
My head snaps up at the familiar voice, not fully sure if I imagined it or not. For one wild second I wonder if this is another Josh-in-the-park moment. If my mind is playing tricks on me.
But it’s not.
Declan stands behind the bar, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A black name tag is pinned to his chest, like the other staff wear.
Holy crap.
Holy freaking crap.
“Trust me,” he continues, looking at Matthias. “I’m speaking from experience with this one.” His eyes flick to mine, holding my gaze, but I don’t speak. I can’t speak.
I can’t believe it.
It’s been weeks. Weeksof nothing. No texts, no calls, no communication at all except for dropping by the apartment the one night I’m not in and now he’s justhere? He’s here and he’s gorgeous and I’m—
“Do you two know each other?” Matthias glances between us, obviously confused.
“We—”
“Declan is my best friend’s brother-in-law,” I jump in before he can say anything. “We were just at their wedding.”
Matthias’s face clears in understanding. “Right. Harvey said you were abroad. It was in Ireland?”
I nod. There’s a beat where I’m supposed to say something else, but God knows what that is, so I keep my mouth shut.
Declan begins to smile.
“Well,” Matthias says gamely. “If whiskey is out, then what are you thinking? You guys have a lot of summer cocktails.”
“I don’t do sugary drinks,” I say quickly. “Or anything sweet really.”
“So that’s why you never eat the pastries I bring in,” he says with an amused look. “I was beginning to think it was me.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Can I recommend our pale ales?” Declan interrupts loudly. I sit back as he leans over the bar, trying to keep as much space between us as possible. “This one is brewed in Dingle. A beautiful part of County Kerry. Have you been to the Emerald Isle?”
Matthias shakes his head. “Never.”
“Ah, it’s gorgeous. Do you have any family in—”
“We’ll take two beers,” I say before he can launch into his business pitch. “Thank you.” The firmness in my tone only makes him smile more.
“Anything in particular?” he asks.
“You choose.”
“Sounds good to me,” Matthias says.
