Page 5 of Shamrock Kisses

“Look at her,” Emily says. “When was the last time she looked this excited?”

“Catch a girl up!” Sarah says, noticing the shift in my body language.

“There’s this guy,” I say, unable to suppress a smile. “I asked him to come here. He’s staying at the Dubois house.”

Sarah lets out a mock gasp. “Big money … a pot of gold! That’s a St. Patrick’s Day reference!” She cracks herself up, clearly pleased with the connection.

While I’m laughing with her, my eyes are again on the door.

Was I being too obvious yesterday?Probably. Mr. Rawr is worth it. He’s hot, but there’s something else too. The way he looked at me … it wasn’t just the typicalhey, you’re hotglance. There was this uncertainty, this mix of fear and interest, like he was both scared shitless and intrigued all at once. It was cute, in a shy, quiet sort of way. I love nerds, not that I go for them as much as I should though.

Emily nudges me, breaking through my thoughts. “You never get this worked up over guys.”

“Worked up?” I squint then wave a hand dismissively. “Please, I’m as cool as a cucumber.”

Sarah shoots me a skeptical look, eyebrow raised. “Sure, that’s why you’ve been checking the door every five seconds.”

I squint at both of them, unwilling to give in to their teasing. They know me too well, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let on how much I want him to show up. My heart rate elevates when I think about seeing him again, but I play it cool, sipping my drink.

Our favorite bartender and Sarah’s new boyfriend, Aaron, slides over to our table. He sets a pitcher of water down in front of us. “Remember, ladies, today is a marathon, not a sprint.”

We all laugh, but as soon as Aaron walks off, I seehim. I loudly inhale, my breath catching. There he is—Mr. Rawr—walking through the door like a damn dream.

5

Istare at the hole-in-the-wall bar in front of me, my heartbeat already outpacing my breath.What the hell am I doing here?My anxiety spikes, and I find myself second-guessing every decision that led me here. What if she isn’t here yet? St. Paddy’s is more of a day-drinking holiday … I hope my assumption is correct that she would be here now. Tugging at the collar of my denim jacket, I’m suddenly aware that I’m underdressed with not a hint of green in sight.Idiot.

I swallow hard and step inside. The scent of old wood and beer smacks me in the face. It’s busier than I expected. Was coming here a mistake? People are already crammed into corners, pint glasses clinking as they celebrate. I scan the room, trying to blend into the shadows when?—

There she is.

Sitting with two other girls, laughing easily, completely at ease. She’s so beautiful, her energy filling the space around her, while I feel like an outsider. My palms are damp.Why did I think I could do this?My legs are locked in place, but I force myself to move. I’ve come this far—I can’t back out now. I take a deep breath and start walking toward her, my heart beating so fast. It feels faster than it did in my workout this morning.

She looks amazing, leaning back at the table like she owns the place. Confidence just radiates off her. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a perfect face. She’s wearing a shirt that says “Here for the Paddy,” with green jeans and white sneakers. She looks effortlessly cool—wayout of my league. My mind screams at me to turn around, but instead, I open my mouth.

“Hey.”I said that too loud.It’s loud in here.Before I can overthink my volume, my eyes lock on a tiny shamrock tattoo near her temple.Why is that so cute?My brain stumbles over itself. I have to remind myself to inhale.

“You made it!” She seems surprised … in a good way. Her blue eyes are brighter than I expected. Like she’s excited to see me.Wait, what?

When I reach the table, I go for the handshake, which feels wrong the second I extend my hand. “I’m Patrick.”

The other two girls burst out laughing, and I feel my cheeks heat up. Was it weird to shake her hand? God, why did I do that? But then she firmly shakes it with a smile.

“I’m Rachel.” I notice a bit of blush on her cheek. Maybe there’s some inside joke I’m not aware of instead of the alternative—that they’re laughing at me for shaking her hand. “And this is Emily and Sarah.” She points at her friends. Emily’s wearing a t-shirt that says “Lucky,” and Sarah’s t-shirt reads “Cheers, Bitches.”

“Where’s your friend?” Rachel asks.

I hesitate, deflated. Of course she’d be interested in wealthy, stereotypically attractive Brandon. “He’s sitting this one out.”

“Too cool for a townie bar?” She raises an eyebrow, and with that tone in her voice, relief washes over me. Maybe I was wrong.

“No, uh … he’s sober.”

“Ah,” Rachel says, and the mood shifts before Emily jumps in. “Where’s your green?” she asks.

“I wasn't planning on celebrating the holiday.”

“Patrick doesn’t go all in on St. Patrick’s Day?” Rachel teases.

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