Chapter 12

Avery was in the Blind Piper bar in Caherdaniel, tapping her foot to the speedy Irish jig playing over the sound system. The whole day had been your basic nightmare. Because first Cathal; now Dec.

Dec had taken it into his Neanderthal skull to pester her. He wouldn’t leave her alone. Sorry, Pierce Brosnan, Michael Fassbender, and Liam Neeson, but Irishmen are going way down in my estimation as of today. While trying to dodge Dec’s clumsy advances all day, she’d missed out on learning about the local history, famous local people, the original language, the sheep farming industry, dog training, and so much more.

She wasn’t going to avoid the evening’s entertainment because of some spotty-faced twenty-two-year-old, but she did have to play it smart. As a precaution, she’d made sure to enter the pub as last of the group, taking a booth furthest away from the stag lads, maneuvering things so that Rosemary and Finbarr sat on either side of her.

She certainly understood the pressure among young men to put on a show in front of each other. And badgering women was an easy way to do that. But did Dec really have to interrupt his friend’s stag party to prey on her? It was clear he wanted to get her on her own to make some kind of dastardly “move.”

Maybe she was extra-sensitive after her experience last year on a train when she’d visited Chicago. Having already switched cars to avoid a group of young men who'd started haranguing her, she’d found herself in a car that was empty save for a man with a bicycle. He’d sat down in the seat across from her, leaned in, and started flirting. She’d looked him in the eye and said, “Please leave me alone.” He’d become agitated, and jumped up and began punching the walls. It escalated to him shouting sexual threats and threatening to shoot her.

She’d been so scared. She’d only narrowly escaped, and it had replaced her naïve trust in humanity with a feeling of paranoia that refused to fade away. It made her furious that it happened so many women—and men too—and that as a whole, mankind really hadn’t evolved past brutish caveman tendencies. She’d taken up judo.

She should have been better prepared for Dec—she should have noticed him before now. Then again, he hadn’t been a problem before today.

She twirled her vodka martini and tried to focus on what Rosemary was saying to Finbarr. Maybe she was too idealistic, hoping that even just one man would turn out not to be an asshole, just this once. Not that it was her life’s mission to find one or anything, but statistically speaking, surely there had to be one somewhere?

The pub door swung inward and the doorway was darkened by a large figure. With a lurch of her insides, she recognized the diffident shake of the blond head. Cathal’s eye caught hers across the heads of the crowd. So much for being invisible.

She returned his gaze with a heart of stone for about three seconds. Then she looked away and tried to focus on Rosemary’s chatter. The woman was saying something about her grandkids’ schools in Donegal. After a while, Finbarr got up and ambled toward the bar to get a drink, leaving the seat vacant beside her.

To her dismay, Dec immediately came and plonked himself down. She got a whiff of his horrible cologne.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked awkwardly.

“No thanks.”

“Ah, go on. Another G&T?”

“No, Dec, I’m good.”

“Well, is it all right if I sit here?”

“You’ll have to ask Finbarr.”

She gazed around hoping to catch the old man’s attention, but he was deep in conversation with another old guy at the bar. Then she felt a bony knee bumping against her own. Sickened, she tucked her legs in, but Dec’s knee followed. Alcohol had emboldened him.

“It’s my last night,” he said, grinning. “Come on, let’s be friends.”

In the corner of her eye, the stag lads were watching every move—filming it too, with their phones poised in a row. She cleared her face of all emotion. She didn’t want to be the latest sensation on YouTube, especially if they tagged it “Crazy Bitch Loses It In Irish Pub” or similar—which would immediately go viral because that sort of crap always did. She didn’t want such a video showing in the “also viewed” list alongside her Star Wars vlog.

“You’re the Obi-Wan for meeee,” one of the lads called over.

“No, Yoda one for me,” another said.

They fell against each other, pushing and sniggering.

She couldn’t win. Patience was needed, something she had in short supply this evening. Also, politeness and strategic thinking. Maybe judicious use of brown belt judo techniques.

“Dec,” a voice said. “How are ya?”

It was Cathal. He sank down on the seat the other side of Dec, trapping him in.

She groaned inwardly. Great, now he’d rub in how “brilliant” Skellig Michael was. Seriously? Could this day get any worse? Well, she wasn’t going to entertain him or show the slightest inkling of disappointment.

“Did you enjoy Derrynane fort?” Cathal asked Dec with an edge to his voice she hadn’t heard before.

Dec heard it too, because he straightened and responded immediately. “I did indeed.” His knee removed itself from hers.

She tossed her head and smiled snarkily at the guys at the bar, who had all stopped filming and were fumbling with their pints, apparently uninterested now.

Nice.

“Did you go over to Skellig Michael?” Dec asked Cathal, now sounding timid.

“I didn’t,” came Cathal’s curt reply.

She glanced at him in surprise. He intercepted her with a level gaze. “The weather was too bad. It would have been a death trap. And in way, it was for the best.”

Hah!

She warmed with the bliss of vindication. There was justice in the world after all. “Really?” she asked, unable to hide the glee in her voice. “You turned back? At what point?”

“Very soon into it, five minutes.”

“Jaysus,” Dec said. “Were they afraid of a few waves or what?”

Cathal ignored him. “Did you want to check Freddie’s Bar across the way, Avery?” His tone was still curt. “Change of scenery.”

It was clear what he meant, but she was confused. She hated him, but was so glad he was here. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of obeying him, but anything was better than having the stag lads leering at her and secretly filming her all evening. And there was one huge point in favor of his plan: He couldn’t gloat about Skellig Michael.

She was never one to dither over decisions, so she nodded and rose. Dec let her past like the gentleman he wasn’t. She didn’t even have to ask.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said to Cathal when they got outside into the cool fresh air and began walking along the narrow road with the ubiquitous stone walls. “Don’t think just because I agreed to come out here with you that I’ve forgiven you for one moment.”

“You’re not mad at all.” He stopped walking, moved in close, and looked down at her face. “You look happy—all bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked.”

“Happy at your misfortune, that’s all.”

“I’m feeling lucky at the moment.” He gave an insolent, Han Solo-esque grin. His gaze roamed her body in a way that made her heart skitter. They were no longer strangers. This reunion changed the rules because her heart had spoken—and, despite everything, she’d missed him. Damn him anyway.

“Avery,” he said, breaking the unbearable silence. “I rented a car.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll drive you around.”

“Why would you want to do that? Why would I want to do that?”

“Brenda’s tour is going to be too far away to get to Portmagee easily from now on as they’re headed east.”

“I’ll get off the tour.”

“And spend all your cash on taxis to Portmagee every morning?”

“I’ll drive.”

“You won’t find a car this side of Tralee.”

“I’ll hire a bicycle.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Why would I want to share a car with someone so mean as to snatch a place on the boat before my very eyes? You’ll do it again—”

“Is that your best argument against hanging around with me?” They’d reached the wall of the pub. His body seemed to be everywhere, all massive shoulders, chest, arms, closing her into a special space that belonged to the two of them.

“It’s right up there. Top ten,” she said, in a thin, breathless voice.

“You better think of something else because it doesn’t wash. Here’s the deal. I’ll drive you around and we’ll go to Portmagee every morning. If there’s only one seat on the boat, it’s yours. I’m here for ten days and that’s what I’m doing every morning. So, join me.”

She pressed her hand against his chest, which made the intensity in his eyes reach the burning point. “You’ve got it all planned out. What if I say no?”

He backed off. “Take it or leave it. It’s just a suggestion, Avery.”

“No, it’s more than that.”

He crossed his arms, making them bulge, straining his jacket at the seams. He glanced up and down the road and over the fields before he brought his gaze back to her. “Enlighten me.”

“You can’t bear to be the bad guy in this story, can you?”

He shook his head. “What I did this morning was wrong. I know that—”

“Yeah, and I’m saying it’s fine. You were a total dick. Own it. You can’t undo it by performing some kind of penance, driving me around like freaking Miss Daisy. That’s just... messed up.”

He exhaled at length, pressing his lips together. A gust of wind blew his hair, turning it into a yellow nimbus in the stark street lighting. “What if,” he began gruffly, “what if I said I wanted to do it… to be with you a little longer?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Filled with glee, she strolled nonchalantly past him and leaned her butt against the wing of a ridiculous-looking car parked in front of the pub. “Now that you’re back down on the level of us mortal sinners, you might be more fun. What kind of car did you hire anyway?”

Triumph lit up his face. “You’re leaning on it.”

She backed off to look at it. It was bright red, and wouldn’t look out of place in a sixties caper. “What the hell?”

“It’s a Ford Capri. It’s all I could find.”

She walked around, inspecting the paintwork. “Well, it’s flashy, ostentatious, and if there was ever a car less like you, this would be it. Where on earth did you dig up this old fossil?”

“Got it off a man called Jimmy. It’ll get us from A to B, where A won’t be far and B is Portmagee.”

She peered inside the passenger window. At least it looked clean. “So what’s your plan?”

“If there are no boats for us in the morning then you’ll be back in time for the rest of Brenda’s tour.” He scuffed a cigarette butt with his foot. “If that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?” She perched herself on the bonnet of the car, swinging her legs.

“I just told you.”

“Good, you’re being consistent. I’d like to spend time with you too, Cathal. You fascinate me. I’d definitely like to hear more stories of Ireland’s ancient past. I can’t get enough of those. And I may want to video you talking.”

He moved toward her. She stopped swinging her legs.

“That’ll cost extra,” he said, and there was that gleam in his olive eyes again. He was now only a foot away, near enough to reach out and grab. The crisp evening air crackled with excitement.

“I have the credits.” She smiled up at him. “You get two thousand now, and fifteen thousand when we reach Skellig Michael.”

He leaned even closer. “And what can I get… with fifteen thousand?”

“You get nothing yet.” She pushed his chest and jumped down from the bonnet. “You have to keep your end of the bargain.”

“Always a catch,” he groaned.