“We could get both and share,” Penny offered.
The way his nose crinkled made her regret it.
“You’re one of those,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Or not…. Sorry, never mind. Anyway, get whatever you want. My treat. It’s the least I can do for having you show me around.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.Here she was, back to old habits, apologizing for herself before she thought better of it.
“Grand. Fish ‘n’ chips for me. You get what you want.” His tone was gentle but firm on the matter. “You don’t look big enough to eat too much,” he added.
Penny looked at the menu again. “Maybe I’ll just get the goat's cheese salad with grilled chicken breast.”
“Suit yourself.”
Things started to go a little smoother once the alcohol arrived. Penny, always interested in people, found herself asking questions. As an only child, she found it fascinating that he came from a family of seven children, with him firmly in the middle. He spoke fondly of his family and growing up in Dublin. She learned he had only been living in Cork for the last six years. Before long, they’d finished their food and drinks.
“Come on,” he encouraged, “We’ll take the tour around and then stop in The Mutton Lane. If you like older bars, you’ll love that one.”
It felt a little more natural as his hand circled around hers this time. Or maybe it was the warm feeling flowing through her veins from the cocktail, but Penny decided not to care. She was always so careful, always played it so safe. It was time to let herself have a little fun.
A light mist had started to fall when he showed her the way into a tight alley, one side covered in a mural of bright colors and giant people she didn’t have time to examine fully. The other side had a black door with a sign advertising Beamish above it. A chill ran through her. She appreciated it when he pulled her a little closer. They passed a handful of smokers, and he paused at the door, pointing farther down the alley, “Just down there is the English Market. All kinds of food stalls, fresh fish, breads, and an olive stand—really good stuff.”
“Oh,” she said appreciatively. “Sounds lovely.”
“Come on.” They passed through the door into a bar very similar to Clint’s. This bar, however, was long and narrow. The actual bar took up a lot of space in the middle of it, with stools and small tables pressed up against the darkened windows across from it. When she looked to the right, she saw low round tables of different shapes and sizes crowded with people sitting on small stools. To her left was a partition that made that area harder to see into.
Seamus pointed to the left. “Head into the snug there and see if you can find us a seat. I’ll get the drinks.”
She nodded, hesitant to leave the heat he radiated, but doing as instructed. She made her way through the press of people, wondering if they were going to have any luck here. Then her eyes landed on a small bench in front of a table. The stools from the other side had obviously been taken elsewhere, but she was pretty sure they could fit on the bench—or at least she hoped so.
It took him a minute to locate her when he came in with the drinks. Seamus was carrying a Guinness for himself and something clear in a glass for her, with a little bottle hooked in his pinky. When he zeroed in on her, his lips lifted in a warm grin.
“Well done,” he congratulated, slipping in next to her, filling up the remaining space.
“What’s this?” Penny asked, indicating her drink.
“Bombay and tonic. You ordered one at the end of the evening the other night.”
“Did I?” She had thought he would bring her a cider, something not so strong, but it was sweet that he remembered her drink. “Thanks,” she said warmly.
His arm moved to rest on the back of the bench around her shoulder. Was he making a move, her now happily fuzzy brain wondered, or just too big to fit in the seat comfortably?
“So, what do you think of the place? Old Irish enough for you?”
Her eyes traveled around, examining the different liquor bottles with candles stuck into them, the blocky, worn wooden furniture, and the dim lighting that hid things she probably didn’t want to know about.
“It’s perfect.”
“Thought so,” he smirked. Then he lifted his hand to touch her cheek lightly, “Did I mention how nice you look?”
Her breath caught in her throat, making her answer come out as a whisper. “No.”
His other arm came down to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. “Cold?”
Even though her body was flooding with a different kind of heat, she nodded, “A little,” afraid he might take the offered warmth away.
It wasn’t long before her pleasant buzz had spread through her whole body. She was enjoying the atmosphere, the sound of rock music playing not overbearingly in the background, people talking in the accent she was slowly growing used to, and the way Seamus’s eyes would look down at her now and then, seeming to take all of her in and enjoying what they saw.
She’d missed the sound of his phone ringing, but suddenly it was up to his ear, and he looked less than pleased.
