Page 20 of Since We're Here
He’s still hot as hell. Even with (especially with) that grumpy-ass look on his face. He must only own tight black t-shirts. I would, too, if I were him, because the way the current one hugs his muscular shoulders and fits snugly along his waist, the same waist I got to grab last Friday night... I’m much warmer than I was when I walked in. I can only imagine what his abs look like. No! I can’t. Shouldn’t. I drag my gaze up to his face, where he’s watching me with a hint of amusement in his golden hazel eyes. He’s got the same five o’clock shadow he had the other night. I bet it’s impossible to keep it away. And now I get why our kiss was so disarming. His lips are plump and red andoh my god,I need to stop.
Patrick’s the only person I know in this town—besides Noreen, and I hardly think the real estate agent counts—and we have connections. I’m not some random. I can appreciate his attractiveness without turning it into something more. Even if he’s just the kind of guy I would fall for and then have to get a new job to avoid. Each time it happens, I think I’ve learned some important lesson, but then the next time I think I’m in love or some other bullshit, I make the same kind of mistakes.
I’m done with that part of my life. Kissing him won’t happen again, now that we kind of know each other.
“Madison.”
His deep voice snaps me back to reality, and I realize he’s looking at me like I’m nuts. Got it. Probably am.
“Sorry, zoned out there.” Not thinking about how hot he is. Of course not.“And it’s Maddie, not Madison, which I know I’ve told you before. Can we talk about the road trip? Or are you too busy?” I look pointedly around the empty bar.
“This again? I’ll send you a link and it’ll be done, okay?”
I sigh. “I really want to make this special. I’ll do it with or without you.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them.
“Without me. I choose that option,” he says.
“I take it back.”
“Does this have to do with why you’re hiding out in Dingle and I’m not allowed to tell Oliver you’re here?”
“Yes.”
Patrick narrows his eyes.
“Oh, no, you didn’t tell him, did you?” My heart pounds faster in my chest.
“No, no, of course not.”
“Phew.” I’m guessing I’d already know if he had. Reese doesn’t exactly hold her opinions to herself.
“Not yet, anyway. I don’t really appreciate having to lie to one of my oldest friends.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not like you’re actively lying to him. I bet he’s not asked you anything likedo you ken where Maddie is these days?” I attempt Oliver’s Scottish accent and fail miserably.
But Patrick chuckles and I almost fall off the barstool. I chug my beer and warmth prickles my skin under his gaze.
“Aye. He has not asked me that specific question. Why all the secrecy, though?”
There’s no way I’m telling him my whole sob story. I shrug it off.
I want to get my shit together without my big sister watching. I recognize that as a thirty-three-year-old, maybe I shouldn’t worry about her judgment, especially as she’s only been kind to me since our dad died. I was nine, and Reese stepped in as the mini-mom. Weighed down by grief, our mother withdrew into herself for a time, and Reese, who was six years older than me and four years older than Stella, took care of us. Aunt Evelyn helped, too. It worked until Reese left for college and I started partying, drinking, getting bad grades, dating shitty boys. I pulled it together enough to get into college but dropped out sophomore year.
And Reese’s never stopped being my mini-mom.
“Reasons. My turn: why the super serious face all the time? You work in a pub.”
“Iowna pub.”
“Right. And a brewery.”
He nods.
“Sounds like a dream.”
“It is.” His face clouds over. “My parents wanted to sell the brewery, but I convinced them to let me take over. I’ve only been in charge a few months, and I’m trying to change some things to grow Slea Head into something bigger.” He sighs and runs his hand over his chin, making a scratchy sound. “But O’Brien’s requires so much micromanaging that it’s hard to find the time to focus on the brewery. Especially when people seem to quit every other day.”
People like me. I’m basically the exact opposite of the kind of person Patrick would want, in his personal life or in his pub. I’mflighty, undependable, and quit jobs at the drop of a hat, just like his day manager had.
