Page 115 of The Matchmaker
“On it,” he says.
We get to work.
It takes an hour before we manage to get everyone where they need to go. The hotels are quick to react and, in no time at all, we’re out on the street directing cars and minibuses and trying to keep track of everyone as best we can so we know who’s getting home okay.
I thought people would be mad, but, for the most part, they’re pretty understanding and know that it’s out of our control. A few even ask if we can put on the fireworks for tomorrow, treating this as just part of the experience, and I go along with it.
I’m exhausted by the time we’re done clearing up the pub with the few others who stayed behind so we’re not walking into a giant mess in the morning. I offer to lock up the pub while Adam walks Gemma and a hyper Noah home and am halfway across the parking lot before I spot Callum lingering by his van.
“Where are you going?” he calls.
“Home.”
“I’m not letting you walk home in the pitch-black.”
“I’ve walked home a million zillion times before.”
“In those heels?”
Well. No. I glance down at my stupid stilettos and scowl. Why do things so pretty have to hurt so much?
“Give me a ride then. Is Granny still here?”
“She’s already left with Susan,” he says, and I pause. Susan lives by herself at the other end of the village and hates the blackouts. She sometimes comes to stay with us during them if they go on long enough. Which means I’ll be on the couch tonight.
“Just come home with me,” Callum says, not even waiting for a response as he strides toward his van. “I’ll make you French toast in the morning.”
I huff a laugh, sorely tempted. Our couch isnota sleeping couch. Does Callum even have a sleeping couch? Would he take the couch? Would neither of us take the couch? Would he—
“Stop thinking and get in the van, Katie.”
“Says themurderer.” But I do as I’m told, climbing into the pristine vehicle, and putting my seatbelt on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“I’m still not sure this isn’t my brother,” Callum says, as he turns left onto a side road and pulls up beside a small house.
“Are you imagining him climbing an electricity pole with a pair of wire cutters?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
I smirk, climbing out onto the gravel. I don’t know how, but I know this isn’t on Jack. He’s an asshole, yes, but I don’t think he’d put people in danger just to be extra petty.
“You know, we might have escaped it,” Callum says hopefully, as he unlocks the door. He reaches inside to flick on a light switch, only for his face to fall when the house remains in darkness. “Or not.”
“Welcome to Ennisbawn.”
“I’ve got this. Wait here.”
“I can help.”
“No. Don’t move or you’ll walk into something.”
I roll my eyes, but the man isn’t wrong. It’s pitch-black inside and, in this dress, I’d like to keep my knees unbruised, thank you very much. I wait by the door as he disappears into the house and emerges a second later with a flashlight to illuminate the space.
“Look at you, all prepared,” I tease, and he grins.
“And they try and tell me I’m not a local.”
