Page 8 of Wintertime Love (Holiday 2)

“I’m not even sure you’re my friends,” I mutter under my breath as Lucia practically forces the man into the booth. “Assholes.”

“You say something, babe?” Danny asks, innocently.

Finn glances in Danny’s direction but he doesn’t say anything.

I just grit my teeth and put on a forced smile. “Nothing. Why don’t I get you a menu, Finn?”

“That’d be great, Darlin’,” he says, cheerfully.

Lucia fans her face as mine burns red in embarrassment, more so because every time he uses that particular endearment, it makes my insides tingle. I grab a menu and bring it over.

Finn takes a long time going over it, even the breakfast section, and I wonder if he’s doing it deliberately. Seeing another customer wants my attention, I grab one of the part time waitresses. “Stacy, here, will look after you.”

I walk away breathing a sigh of relief.

I know I’m acting weird, even for my standards, but I don’t know what to do. Looking at him simply reminds me of the kiss from last night. I’m not one to obsess over such things for too long of a time or at all, as a matter of fact. So what if this particular kiss made my toes curl? I still have my pride!

If I act strange, my friends are sure to pick up on it. But if I’m nice to him or at least friendly, they won’t suspect much. A sinister smile blooms on my face. I’ll charm his god

damn socks off!

I’m flitting between customers, making sure they’re satisfied, making small chat, throughout the lunch hour. It’s dying down by the time I catch a breath. I sink into one of the empty chairs, my head hurting from the hangover and my stomach gurgling in hunger. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on the table that I’ve just wiped down. I need to eat but I don’t think my stomach will keep anything down. I want to go back home and curl up and sleep for the rest of the day.

A light clunk in front of me makes me open my eyes, blearily. I see the mug in front of me, followed by a hand attached to it. As I look up further, I see dark amber eyes and those lips, attached to a full head of jet black hair. Finn’s face looks like it was sculptured by the angels, with his sharp cheekbones, defined jawline, the man is ruggedly handsome with those beautiful eyebrows hinting at mischief.

I don’t even bother straightening up. “Why are you still here? Didn’t you just have lunch?”

Finn takes the seat across from me, nudging the mug towards me,.“I noticed you didn’t eat anything. Thought you might have a hard time keeping anything down, so I made you this.”

I stare suspiciously at the murky looking liquid in the mug. “What is that supposed to be?”

He grins at me. “Whatever you want it to be, Miss Clara. But it will help with the hangover.”

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” I grumble as I pick up the mug. “Call me Clara, like everyone else. Also, if this is poison, you should know that I’m petty as hell. I will come back to haunt your ass if I die.” Despite my hesitation, I’m desperate for relief so I tilt my head back and swallow the liquid. It makes me want to gag, the disgusting taste making me stick my tongue out. “That was horrible! What was in it?”

Finn is smiling broadly.

I pause as I’ll be damned if I don’t find that a charming sight.

“Just a little bit of this and that. It’s a family recipe.”

I bury my head in my arms again, wanting the effect of the drink to quickly take place, and telling him, begrudgingly, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t leave as I expected him to and when I glance up from where I’m resting my head, he comments, “This really is an interesting concept you have here.”

His accent is still the same, but there is suddenly something more cultured about it, and it leaves me baffled. “W-what do you mean?”

He’s looking over at where Stacy is serving coffee to some customers and chatting and he says, “It’s more relaxed than any kind of diner I’ve seen. Everybody knows everybody.”

I smile, a little proud of my hard work. “Well, it’s a small town. It’s not uncommon for that to happen. But this is a very family orientated place. When I started setting this up, everybody pitched in.” I straighten up enough to look around, happily. “I didn’t have enough money so people would stop by, help me paint the walls, help me set up. It was a joint effort. We look out for each other in this town.”

Finn is staring at me now. “They’re quite welcoming. Reminds me of when I lived in Dublin as a boy.”

My lips curve into a slight smile. “So, that’s where you’re from?”

“Well, no. I lived there till I was fifteen and then I moved to WestHallor to live with my grandmother. Refused to shake off the accent though. She hates it.” He chuckles with the last part.

My headache is slightly subsiding and I’m starting to feel a little hungrier now. I eye the sandwiches in the display case and murmur, “From Ireland to England. That’s a bit far off from our little town here.”

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