Page 7 of Beautifully Complicated

I find myself trying to bite back a smile. “So, you’re a frugal connoisseur?”

“That’s one way to put it.” His cheeks flush slightly.

“What’s another way?”

“Cheap.” He shrugs bashfully, like that’s some kind of flaw, though I find his honesty endearing.

“A cheap man wouldn’t have offered to buy me a drink.”

Another modest shrug. “Looked like you needed another one.”

“Perceptive.”

“I try to be.” Aiden’s voice drifts off as his brow furrows slightly, giving me the distinct impression there’s something distressing behind that angelic exterior. But the self-assured, sweet boy is back so fast I wonder if I imagined that brief moment of sadness. “So, how does a guy with Irish parents end up a beer drinker?”

I hold up my pint glass and study it curiously, wondering where that question came from. “Lots of Irish people drink beer.”

“I’m sorry, anot Guinnessbeer drinker?” he clarifies.

“What sort of crap did your brother-in-law teach you about the Irish?” I arch a playful brow.

A cute little wrinkle separates his. “That they only drink whiskey and Guinness, apparently.”

“And you believed him?” I don’t know why, but I get the sense Aiden is too smart a man to accept such a simplified, stereotypical classification.

“I was twelve, so yeah. And I never really had a reason to question it until now.”

That pink flush is back, and it’s doing things to me I’m not proud of, so I try to steer the conversation back to something that isn’t likely to bring out his bashful side.

“You’ve had a brother-in-law since you were twelve?”

“My sister’s thirteen years older than me.”

“How many siblings are between you two?” I sip my beer, expecting him to rattle off a list of names or use his fingers to keep track of them all. Needless to say, I’m shocked when he says “None.”

“None?” I repeat. “That’s…”

“I was quite the surprise.” Aiden rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

Is there any topic that doesn’t make this man blush?

Taking another sip, I prop my foot on the rung of the barstool to ease the pressure in my pants. “I was too. For my birth parents anyway.”

“You know who they are?”

“I do, and let’s just say I dodged a bullet.”

“Same. Being so much younger than my sister I mean. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but she’s very dramatic, and I like calm.”

Such an old soul.

“That explains why you like this place.” I glance at the room around us, which resembles the pubs my parents took me to in Ireland.

“I’ve actually never been here before,” Aiden says thoughtfully. “I just saw the flag in the window when I was passing by and figured I’d check it out.”

“Same.”Same? Since when do I talk like a college student?

Aiden must find that as out of character as I do given the curious smile he gives me, but oddly, I don’t feel foolish for using the term. I feel strangely comfortable.

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