Dylan jumps out and reaches for my hand. We both turn towards the castle, I immediately turn my phone off. This is the type of moment you have to give your full attention.

“The castle dates back to the late 1400s. It’s technically the third castle built here and these are the original remains.” Gerald closes his door and stands beside Dylan. “Inside you can tour the castle, gardens, the Blarney Stone. It can take thirty to forty-five minutes or hours. My time is yours.”

“Knowing this one,” Dylan looks over at me, “we’ll need a couple hours.”

“Sure. I can accompany you inside.”

“I think we have it under control. I have your number if anything changes. Should I call when we’re ready?”

“No, I’ll be here with a book.” Gerald smiles and climbs back in the car.

“Ready?” I’m ready to get inside. My research this morning did this place no justice.

“Lead the way babe.” I drag him along pushing aside Impose Brew and BrandShare.

Dylan buys our tickets and we pass through the gift shop. The area before us is green and full of colorful flowers. We both have to duck to keep the trees from whacking us.

Then the sidewalk transforms into a gravel path, surrounded by plush, thick grass and aged stone. The Blarney River is our companion as we inch our way through the magnificent gardens.

“The grounds are impeccable.”

“And peaceful.” He kisses me as if he can’t help it and I kiss him back. We continue our slow tour talking about everything but work. Taking every left and right available exploring every inch until we enter the castle.

The stone is an ashen gray covered in moss. I look up and the roof is exposed. Dylan notices a sign affixed to the wall. We are standing in the Family Room and it tells of the windows and fireplaces to liven up the space.

“That’s pretty cool.” I take his outreached hand entering the castle. We move from room to room. They have updated the stairs but the beauty of the ruins are left intact. The inner area has high ceilings that are a mixture of smooth and rough textures, aged and decaying, is part of its authenticity.

Next, we climb a narrow stairway following the signs to the stone. The tight squeeze leads us to the top of the tower. I step out with Dylan’s assistance and all I see is treetops, fluffy white clouds, and endless sky.

He pulls me to him. “This puts life into perspective.”

“It does.” I wrap my arms around his waist. This brush with the beauty of the past fortifies my resolve to excel in the challenge posed by Jake and create a full life outside of work. I glance up. “I kind of like being your woman.”

“Well, I am a catch.” He winks barely holding back his smile.

I laugh and it reaches the depths of my soul echoing off the ancient castle. Heads turn in my direction and I could care less.

“Watch it buddy or I’ll throw you back out to the sea. Come on, I’m ready to kiss the stone.”

I reach for the handrail and Dylan places a protective hand around my waist guiding me forward to kiss the stone. The legend says if you kiss it you’ll have the gift of gab to charm people. Sounds a little like luck to me. I stand in line waiting my turn to seal the deal with my destiny. To find a new client, help S&J get Impose Brew as a vendor, and have a future full of success, happiness, and yes, more Dylan.

“You ready?” The worker is moving the line along.

I nod. It’s my turn to hang 90 feet above the ground to kiss an ancient stone.

“Hold the bars and tilt your head to the bottom.”

I follow his instructions lowering down, gripping the rusty bars tight and I kiss the stone with hope dancing in my belly.

The rest of our excursions went by in the blink of an eye. The Cliff of Moher turned me into a lover of all things Ireland. We cross the countryside heading back to Dublin with only three days left before returning to Texas.

“Thank you for sharing this trip with me," Dylan whispers near my ear.

“Thank you for having me since I sort of invited myself.” His laugh ripples through his chest against my back. I fall asleep with him promising to wake me once we arrive in Dublin, I close my eyes ready to take on my hectic life.

I wake in the middle of the night with a plan. I look over and Dylan is knocked out. I slide out of the bed quietly. The last time I left his bed I was frightened by the thought of love. This time I’m leaving to help S&J get Impose Brew.

I tiptoe to the small office and turn on my computer. I put on coffee and get to work. I rewrite their proposal. Impose Brew wanted to remain family owned and partnering with S&J could extend their family. S&J is a family owned company that supports other lesser known brands. This would expand their market while adding to their bottom line.

“Brilliant.” I sip the hot coffee and type like a mad woman thankful my man sleeps like a log. I pull the facts and figures from the original proposal, a few calculated predictions, and some graphics of their unique labels. The S&J logo adds the finishing touch.

Pleased, I stretch and glance at the clock. It’s only eleven o’clock. Impose Brew is a bar, what bar closes before midnight? None that I can think of. I toy with the idea of waking Dylan. What if the owner isn’t there or declines my request?

I’ll go and return before he knows I’m gone. And when the owner agrees, I’ll call and wake him from his peaceful slumber. Satisfied with my plan I tiptoe across the room, grabbing some clothes and my makeup bag. In full ball buster mode, twenty minutes later, I’m in Temple Bar.

“I’ll wait here for you.”

“Thanks, Art, I’ll be right back.” I’m glad I’m not alone. I enter the bar and its crowded from wall to wall. It’s a multilevel structure with bookcases lining the walls and self-serve taps at the tables. I cross the room, heads turn.

As a younger woman, I hated looking different. From the slant in my eyes to the hue of my skin, I know my uniqueness opens doors. All I need is a crack, from there I will kick the door down until I reach my destination. Hopefully kissing the Barney Stone actually works tonight because I’m strolling to the bar and I’m not taking no for an answer.

I order a beer and listen to the chatter at the bar. I see a man interacting with the bartender and the waiters. He opens a door and disappears.

“What can I get for you?” I return his smile.

“Five minutes with him,” I point towards the closed door, “and a mug of your best ale.” I put a tip on the sticky bar and his eyes widen.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He places a mug in front of me and pockets the money.

I take a drink of the cold beer, stopping to stare at the glass with appreciation. The flavor is robust, silky on the tongue with a hint of fruitiness. Damn. Not only are they positioned in the market but this is what my guys need.

“Good evening beautiful.”