Page 22 of Since We're Here
“Right when I got back to town five years ago. I wanted the brewery then, but Dad wasn’t ready to retire. Then O’Brien’s went up for sale and I jumped on it.”
“So it’s just a business rivalry? Between you and Liam?”
“Well—” I start, but stop. I give up counting bottles and stand slowly, careful to wipe any emotion off my face before I look at her.
“Ohhh, come on. Spill. There’s definitely more to this story than beer.”
“No. That’s all.” Why am I telling her so much, and why do I feel a pang of regret for lying? Maddie’s a stranger, and I was this close to telling her about Cara’s connection to this all.
About Cara in general.
Jaysus.
That’s none of her business, and not something I ever want to talk about. Only to Saoirse. My little sister is always firmly on my side when it comes to the Smith family, even though my parents have seemingly forgiven them for the nasty end to my engagement to Cara.
My mobile pings and I glance at the screen, a reminder popping up for the interview with a potential new product development manager in thirty minutes at the brewery.Dammit.
“For feck’s sake,” I mumble as I type out a message to the candidate. I can make it a phone interview and take it from here. If anyone comes in, I’ll put her on hold.
“What?” Maddie presses, and when I look up, her wide eyes are locked on me.
I shake my head. “I have an interview with someone for the brewery, so regrettably, this conversation will have to come to anend.” Which is good, because the tourist is making me want to confess way too much.
“Is anyone coming in to work?” She looks around the empty room.
“No. It’s no problem. I’ll do it via mobile. I just need to send the woman this message.”
“Don’t do that.” She shakes her head and slides down from the barstool. Maddie runs her fingers through her drying hair, and I’m transfixed by the motion.
“Why not?”
“Do you really want to interview them over the phone?”
“No, I’d rather do it in person at the brewery.”
This would be my first important hire. I want someone to help me do market research and develop a five-year innovation plan so we don’t ever fall behind New Dingle again. And then I can focus on the Wellington Pubs pitch.
Maddie walks around the edge of the bar until she’s standing next to me. She surveys the stacks of glasses, the iPads, the bottles of liquor lined up along the wall.
“I can run this pub in my sleep.”
I laugh, because it’s the last thing I expected her to say.
She steps toward me and puts her hand on my forearm, wrapping her fingers around my muscle and gently tugging.
“This is what I’ve been doing for the past decade. My last job was managing an Italian restaurant with a thriving bar.”
I furrow my brow and process what she’s saying, but it’s hard with her standing so close and touching me. The connection between my skin and hers is sending daggers of lightning up my arm.
“Madison.”
“Maddie,” she corrects.
“Madison. You are here for an adventure. Working at a pub is not an adventure.”
“Who are you to tell me what qualifies as an adventure?”
“You’re delusional.” I cringe after the words come out, sure I’ve offended her.
