“Ach, an American!” Moira says knowingly. “Is it your first time visiting, love?”
“No, I’ve been one other time, but it’s been several years.”
“Just couldn’t stay away, could ya?” Moira asks with a wink.
“Definitely not. It’s lovely here. This place is amazing, by the way,” I gush. “I love the decor.”
She beams. “That’s kind of ya. Now, how do you take your coffee, love? Milk and sugar?”
“That would be great, thank you.”
“Be back in a tick!” Moira promises, turning back towards the swinging door.
I turn my attention back to Eamon, finding him watching me with a bemused expression. “What?”
“Ireland suits you,” he says with a shrug, picking up a menu.
I pick up my own menu and ask, “You can tell that just in the short time we’ve been here?”
“Aye.”
I wait for him to continue, but he’s looking back at the menu. “That’s it? No explanation?”
Eamon strokes his chin in mock contemplation. “For starters, your whole face has been lit up like a firework since we got here. You’re practically glowing.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, considering the circumstances. Maybe I should tone it down a bit,” I say apologetically, biting my bottom lip.
Eamon’s eyes zero in on my mouth. “No. I love seeing this side of you. You’re always beautiful, but seeing you here in my home country? Breathtaking. And quit biting that lip. It’s giving me impure thoughts.”
I gasp. “Eamon Kennedy, behave. We’re in public!”
He chuckles, leaning closer. “I didn’t say I was going to act on those thoughts…yet.”
Moira comes bustling back to our table, placing a saucer in front of each of us. She puts a French Press full of dark coffee and pours cream into the milk carafe in front of me before setting a pot of hot tea in front of Eamon.
“Here you are, loves. Have you decided on food, or do you need a minute?”
Eamon looks at me expectantly. “After you.”
“I can’t decide. It all sounds wonderful,” I say. “What’s your favorite, Moira?”
“Nobody’s ever asked me that!” She taps her ink pen on her chin. “The smoked bacon and leek quiche is my go-to. With a side of breakfast mushrooms, of course.”
“I’ll have that, please! With a brown scone,” I add quickly. There’s no way my first meal in Ireland isn’t going to include a brown scone.
“Good, lass. And for you, lad?”
“Full breakfast for me, Moira. I’ll have a scone as well. It’s been a while.”
“You’re Irish, young fella, how long could it have been?” Moira raises a brow.
“Ah, this is my first time back in several years. I’ve been in the States going to university and playing football,” he tells her.
She nods towards me. “That where you met this one?”
“Aye, she challenged me to a drinking contest,” he says, winking at me. “The black stuff too.”
“Catch yourself on!” Moira laughs, looking at me with wide eyes. “And did you win, lass?”