“Rude. I have male friends.” She scoffs.
“Your brothers?”
“Shush. They’re not my only male friends. Plus, they’re my brothers, so they don’t count anyway. But we’re not talking about me!” she says hurriedly.
I know she’s right, but I have no idea how to be friends with a guy. I’m polite to the ones in my classes and the drama department. I tolerate the guys at the pub, but I can’t say that I’ve ever actually taken the time to befriend one of them. I don’t see the point, honestly. With my history, there’s no way I will ever be relationship material. That requires trust with your heart and your body, and I don’t trust any guy with either.
“I don’t know if I can do it. Where would I even begin?”
“Well, we all know how much you love Pat O’Nelly. Start there. Maybe he can give you some tips or something. You trust him, right?” Layla asks.
“Absolutely, I do. But he’s older, like a grandfather. Nothing is threatening about him—though he did scold me pretty good today and put me on dish duty.” I shrug.
“Are you serious? For how long?” She laughs.
“I don’t know. He told me to come in tomorrow night at seven. I hope it’s just one night!”
* * *
Sunday night has arrived, and I’m running late. It shouldn’t be a big deal, though. Sunday nights are usually pretty slow, so there can’t be that many dishes, right? And surely Pat was just messing with me. He’ll probably pour me a pint as we gab the night away. It’s ten after seven when I walk through the door and come to a screeching stop. The place is absolutely packed. With senior citizens.What the hell?I glance at the bulletin board to my left, where various groups and organizations post their fliers. Sure enough, tonight is Seniors’ Night. When did Pat start that? I shake my head and walk up to the bar, catching Paddy’s eye.
“It’s about time, lass! You’re late! I’ll have to make you work a second night now,” he says, winking at me.
I laugh and hop onto the bar stool across from him.
“Oh no, you don’t, Miss Grady. You promised dishwashing, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do tonight. I didn’t expect so many people to turn up, and they all drink like fish. We need glasses. Now, get back there!” he orders me.
I’m stunned. He was serious! I hesitantly walk back behind the bar and through the swinging door. To my right is the kitchen, complete with an industrial-type stove and fridge against the far wall and a stainless steel island in the center of the room with a pot rack hanging overhead. Pat doesn’t offer much in the way of food, but he always has stew and fish and chips. The dishes are piled high in the sink, the large dishwasher already running a load. I don’t even know where to begin.
“Norah! Glad to see ya! Grab that apron over there and get to washing! Pat said I wasn’t supposed to let you two do any slacking tonight!” Alicia yells through the door.
“Two of us?” I start to say, just as the door from the pantry opens and Eamon Kennedy walks through carrying an armload of fresh vegetables. He looks just as good as I remember.
He slams to a stop with a baffled look on his face. “If you’ve come for round two, forget it. I won’t be doing dishes for Paddy again after this,” he says as he walks around me to the island and begins sorting the veggies into piles.
“What? I thought I was doing the dishes. What are you doing here?” I ask stupidly.
Eamon lifts his blue eyes to mine and smirks. “Looks like he’s punishing us both for bad behavior the other night. I blame you, you know. Now, if you really are here to wash, then hop to it. I’ve been put on stew duty until Paddy gets things calmed down out there.”
Seething, I say, “Me? You’re the one that started the whole damn conversation! If anyone should be washing dishes, it’s you!”
“Easy, lass. That temper of yours will get you into trouble again.” He chuckles darkly. “And, like I said, I won’t be doing any more dishes.”
Pat chooses that moment to walk through the door. “What’s the raucous back here? Why aren’t those tubers chopped, Eamon? You should havebeen halfway through them by now.”
“Sorry, Paddy. Ginger over here is arguing over who’s supposed to be doing the dishes. Looks like you forgot to mention you had us both on duty,” Eamon says accusingly.
“My name isnotGinger,” I snap at him. He’s infuriating.
“Norah, darling, would you be so kind as to start on those dishes? I’ll be serving stew from my boot before the night’s over. I’ll be holding you to your promise now.” Pat says mischievously.
I look back at the sink. It’s going to be a long night.
An hour into dish duty, Pat comes back to relieve Eamon of making stew. It smells heavenly, but I’m not going to admit it to him. The B&B I stayed in at Clifden was run by an older lady who made the best stew I have ever had. I still have vivid dreams about it on rainy nights. This stew smells similar.
I’m completely lost in memories of Ireland when Eamon’s deep voice says, “I’ll rinse now”.
“Shit!” I screech, jumping sky-high while the dish I was washing falls from my hands.
