“Mr Harrington,” Dylan greeted. “May I introduce you to my date, Evelyn Flynn?”

The older gentleman turned to us with a kind smile. “You can, of course, but be warned, I might have to steal her because she is ravishing.”

“Hello, Mr Harrington,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your flower display is amazing.”

“The pleasure is all mine, dear, and please call me Frank. My staff made the display. I’m just the old codger who pays their wages.”

“Don’t listen to him. He does a whole lot more than that,” Dylan said.

“Oh well, please let them know they did an incredible job,” I added.

“Evelyn here is a gardener, too,” Dylan went on. “I used her flowers in my very first perfume.”

Frank’s eyes widened with interest. “Really? And where do you work now?”

My chest constricted at his question, and all of a sudden it was harder to breathe. I didn’t expect to react this way. I also didn’t expect the excitement that lay beneath the difficulty breathing. I was excited to talk to someone who owned a flower farm, someone who let his workers create beautiful displays with the things they grew.

But then, I felt unworthy, because I had no achievements of my own. No farm to boast about.

“Oh, I don’t garden anymore,” I said.

“I’m trying to convince her to start again,” Dylan added. “But she’s a stubborn one.”

Frank’s expression was amiable. “Well, if you ever want to dip a toe, I’d be happy to have you at my place. We always need extra pickers, though we’re coming to the end of fall now, so things are quieter.”

“That’s very kind of you, but—”

“She’d love to,” Dylan said, and I shot him an irritated glance.

Frank chuckled, obviously noting Dylan’s enthusiasm and my apprehensiveness. “Why don’t you both drop by this Saturday and I’ll give you a tour?”

“We’ll be there,” Dylan replied and then Frank excused himself to mingle with other guests.

Dylan turned to beam at me. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think he’s only being so welcoming because of his business relationship with you. I could be anyone.”

“But that’s the thing. You aren’t just anyone, and once he gets to know you he’ll see that.”

“Hmm,” I said, feeling like this whole evening had been a trap, even if it was a well-meaning, kind-hearted trap on Dylan’s part.

He slid his hand affectionately down my arm. “Think about it. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m going to the bar.”

I felt his eyes on my back as I walked away. Conor stood by the bar, sipping on a drink.

“Is that a Bellini?” I asked, amused by his choice.

“It’s cheat day and I’m partial to fruity cocktails. So sue me.”

“I didn’t see you ordering any of those when we were out with Yvonne.”

“That’s because I need her to see me as a big, sexy manly man. I’ll wait until the fourth or fifth date to reveal my girly preferences.”

I chuckled. “Speaking of, did you invite her tonight?”

“I did. She said she was working.”

That lying wench.

Conor grimaced. “I take it from your expression that was a lie.”

“My aunt has issues.”

He held out a hand. “Totally understandable given she knew me when I was a skinny little kid with acne and giant glasses.”

“That shouldn’t matter. I can tell she likes you. It’s just, Yvonne’s never excelled at relationships. I think she prefers the controllable predictability of being single. That way she doesn’t have to worry about getting hurt.”

Conor nodded, thoughtful for a moment. “Can you talk to her for me? Let her know I really, really like her. She can pretty much have me any way she wants me.”

Well, that was interesting. It’d be sexy if he wasn’t talking about my blood relative. I studied him speculatively. “What is it about my aunt that you like so much? I mean, you must have your pick of the ladies over here.”

His lips curved in a smirk. “Is that a compliment?”

I poked him in the arm. “You know it’s true.”

He took a sip of his drink and shrugged. “I just really like her. She doesn’t judge people, you know? Back home I was so used to everyone looking at me funny because of the colour of my skin. They’d do this little double take when I came around a corner. But Yvonne never did that, she just smiled and spoke to me like I was a normal person.”

My chest ached a little at his explanation. “You were a normal person.”

“I know that now, but it was hard to feel that way when I was younger.”

I pursed my lips, remembering some of the mean, backhanded comments people would whisper about him. It wasn’t outright bullying or racism, but I was sure it made Conor feel like crap sometimes. Like he didn’t belong. And aside from his family, it wasn’t like there was anyone else who could relate to his situation. Where we lived, everyone was white. Then Yvonne came along, full of sunshine and pretty smiles, and she treated him like any other person. I wasn’t surprised she’d made a lasting impression.

I reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’ll talk to her, okay?”

Conor shot me a grateful smile before Dylan appeared at my side. “Everything all right?”

I nodded, still a little put out by him foisting me on Frank Harrington like some sort of charity case who needed a job. I had a job. It just wasn’t as fulfilling as Dylan thought flower farming would be. He was right, of course. I think it bothered me even more that he was right.

“Yes, fine,” I said finally.

“Hey, do you two want to find a quiet bar somewhere for a few drinks? I’m not really feeling the stuffy atmosphere in here,” Conor said and an idea sprung to mind. After our little heart to heart, I wanted to do something nice for him.

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we all go back to my place? I have some beers in the fridge.”

“Are you sure Yvonne won’t mind?” Conor asked warily.

I waved him away. “Not at all. Yvonne loves company.” I knew she be annoyed at me for outing her lie to Conor that she was working tonight, but he already knew it was an excuse, so there was no point keeping up the charade.

Besides, if everything went to plan, she’d be thanking me for my determination to get them together before long.

* * *

I slotted my key in the door and led Conor and Dylan inside. The living room was empty, so I thought Yvonne must’ve gone to bed. I hoped she wasn’t asleep yet.

“Make yourselves comfortable. I’m going to get out of this dress.”

Dylan gave a sultry look. “I can help with that.”

“Nice try. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I went into my room to change into my pyjamas, navy sweatpants and a Wicked T-shirt that read, ‘Defy Gravity’. Yvonne took me to see the show the week I arrived, and I bought the T-shirt from the merchandise stand, cracking a joke to the girl by asking if its witchy magic would ensure my boobs defied gravity. I told the same joke to Yvonne every time I wore it, but she stopped finding it funny after the fourth or fifth time.

I went to knock on her bedroom door, but when I didn’t get an answer I ducked my head inside. She sat in bed reading a book, her hair in a knot, eyes wide.

“Who’s out there?” she whispered.

I closed the door and stepped inside. “Just Conor and Dylan. We got bored at the gala and decided to come here. I hope that’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t okay. Conor invited me tonight and I told him I was working. I’m going to have to hide in here until they leave.”

“Yvonne, I’m pretty sure Conor knows that was a lie. He isn’t stupid. He knows you don’t want to date him.”

She chewed on her lip, looking torn. “Do you think I should go out there and apologise?”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate your honesty.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, just let me fix my hair first.” She went over to her dresser, pulled her hair out of its knot and ran a brush through it. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous. Now come on. We have visitors waiting.”

When we emerged, Dylan and Conor sat chatting on the couch. I went to grab the beers from the fridge while Yvonne approached Conor.

“Hey,” she said, voice quiet. “I’m sorry for fobbing you off about tonight.”

He gave her a soft look. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

His expression warmed. “Sure.”

She approached him and threw her arms around his shoulders. He held on to her for a long moment, squeezing tight before he let go. I shared a look with Dylan. We both wanted something to happen between them, but we knew there was no point meddling. Well, not any more than I’d already meddled by bringing Conor to the apartment.

I set the beers on the coffee table and told everybody to take one. Yvonne declined, instead opting to make herself a cup of peppermint tea.

“Oh, Ev, you’re wearing the T-shirt. Tell them your joke,” she said as she came back in and settled down on an armchair.

I shot her a wry look. “I thought you hated that joke.” Also, it wasn’t so much a joke as a funny statement. At least, I found it funny, because I was a dork.

“I do, but that’s only because I’ve heard it twenty times.”

“What’s the joke?” Dylan asked, gaze skimming the curve of my hip. I thought of our phone call last night and flushed all the way to my toes.

I took a swig of beer. “So, I got this T-shirt when Yvonne took me to see Wicked, and I asked the girl on the merch stand if it had magical powers, and if so, did it enable the wearer’s boobs to defy gravity.”

“That is one terrible, cheesy fucking joke,” Conor chuckled.

“Yeah, I never knew your sense of humour could sink so low,” Dylan added teasingly.

“Hey, I have a great sense of humour,” I protested, smiling. I felt a little tipsy from the wine at the event and the beer I was currently drinking.

“If by great you mean an eighties sex comedy,” he said, hoping to get a rise out of me. I could tell by the shine of mischief in his eyes. I wasn’t going to let him win, trying to think of a snappy comeback.

“Well, you . . . you have the sense of humour of a politician making a joke about a rival politician, like he’s wants to fix the problems in education, but he can’t even fix his own hair in the morning, and then everyone in their party starts laughing like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.”

Dylan chuckled loudly. “That is quite possibly the most specific putdown I’ve ever heard.”

“Didn’t you ever watch Oireachtas TV back home? They’re always cracking jokes like that,” I said. “It’s upsetting.”

Yvonne laughed. “Upsetting?”

“Yes, anything that cringe-worthy is incredibly upsetting.”

We spent the next hour chatting and drinking, and it all felt so effortless between the four of us. In fact, it was really nice, like a little slice of home. I’d been distracted by a story Conor was telling when I noticed Dylan staring intently at my chest. I cleared my throat. His attention lingered then rose to my face.

I mouthed a quick, What?

Are you wearing a bra? he mouthed back.

Instantly, my nipples hardened at the thought of him studying me, trying to decide if I was wearing one. My T-shirt was extra baggy, and I wore a small vest underneath, so it wasn’t immediately obvious. I simply cocked a brow at him and ignored his mouthed question. He knocked back a long gulp of beer and frowned. Maybe he was annoyed that I wasn’t wearing a bra and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Jeez, it’s getting late. I better call a taxi,” Conor announced. “You ready to head back, Dylan?”

Dylan cast me frustrated look, then brought his attention to Conor. “Sure, why not.”

A few minutes later their taxi arrived. Dylan came and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before they left, whispering in my ear, “You just love to torture me.”

I only smiled in return and then they were gone.

“I’m going to bed,” Yvonne said, yawning.

“Go ahead. I’ll clean up out here.”

My phone buzzed with a text when I was in the kitchen. I picked it up.

Dylan: Wish I could’ve stayed over again. I missed you last night.

I thought about how to reply. He was being too romantic, and I couldn’t handle it. I already felt like I was falling for him way too quickly, which was why I responded with humour.

Evelyn: Boob oglers don’t get to stay over.

Dylan: Not even if they pay fealty to said boobs?

Evelyn: I’d advise you to remove ‘pay fealty’ from your dirty talk repertoire.

Dylan: Too medieval?

Evelyn: Makes me think of a nerdy guy in a cosplay outfit who wants to be dominated.

Dylan: Enough said. It’s out.

Dylan: Just out of curiosity, what should be in my repertoire?

Evelyn: I can’t give you answers to the test. That’s cheating :-P

Dylan: Just looking for some pointers.

Evelyn: Okay, here’s one: Go to bed. You have work in the morning.

Dylan: Have you thought any more about Saturday?

I hesitated before typing out a reply.

Evelyn: I’ll go, but only because I want to see the farm.

Dylan: Great. I’ll pick you up at 10. Xxx

A few minutes went by and I was just climbing into bed when my phone buzzed again.

Dylan: I know I already said it, but you really did look beautiful tonight.

I swallowed down the flutters his text solicited and typed back.

Evelyn: And you looked very handsome.

Dylan: See you Saturday, Ev.

Evelyn: See you Saturday, Dylan.

I slid my phone onto my dresser, switched off the lamp and closed my eyes, a smile on my face as I fell asleep.