Page 13 of Shamrock Kisses

“At least two of you.”

My cheeks flush and my mind drifts, imagining him easily picking me up, and I take another sip of my beer to cool myself down. Although he can pick me up and throw me around any time he wants. Chill.

“Have you ever heard of the F.I.R.E. concept?” he asks.

My friends and I all shake our heads.

“It stands for ‘Financially Independent, Retire Early.’ I’m hoping to retire by forty, and I’m pretty nerdy about investing.”

Sarah and Emily both look impressed, and I feel my interest rise another notch.He’s twenty-seven and already planning his future like this?

“I own about five shares of Disney stock that I got from my grandparents when I was a kid. That’s all I know about the market,” I admit.

“I can bore you about it anytime you want.”

I laugh, but my mind is spinning.How is he twenty-seven and this mature?He’s checking every box, and I’m not sure what to do with that.

We finish our beers, and I glance at his empty glass, feeling the moment hovering between us. “Ready for a tour?” I ask, and he nods.

As I slide into my jacket, I catch him checking me out, and a smug smile creeps across my face. I lean in closer, teasing, “Stop checking me out.”

“Why?”

My heart skips a beat.Fuck.I might actually sleep with him—not right now, but later … if this keeps progressing the way it’s been. I want to, but I shouldn’t. I barely know him.But damn, I want to.

I shake off the thought as I turn to hug Emily. “See you later,” I say, and then I move to hug Sarah, who pulls me in close.

“We do not want to see you later,” she whispers in my ear, making me giggle.

“It’s not going to be that long of a tour,” I share as Patrick and I step outside. “Main Street isn’t that big.”

11

Outside of the bar, I contemplate grabbing her hand.I mean, we did kiss.But before I can make a move, she reaches for my hand first. The simple gesture makes me smile, and I squeeze her hand, interlacing our fingers.So easy. So natural.

“Rachel,” I say, breaking the quiet. “What’s your last name?”

“Wagner. What’s yours?”

“Nowak.”

She flashes a smile, then points to a nearby shop. “This is a cute place where you can buy everything your grandma could ever want.”

What a spot-on description, I think, looking at the window display.

“And this,” she points to another store, “is where you can find the stupidest t-shirts you’ll ever see.”

I nod in agreement, reading some of the shirts in the window.

“Should we get one?” she asks eagerly. “Like stupid matching ones?”

It’s a cute idea, but I share, “I’m in a minimalist phase.”

“How hardcore minimalist are we talking?”

“Not too extreme. I’m just trying not to buy stuff for the sake of buying stuff.”

“I feel that, but sometimes you have to make an impulse purchase like the temporary tattoos.”

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