Page 14 of Since We're Here
“How do you know my name?” Did she ask around about me? That’d be weird, but who am I to judge someone for being weird.
“You responded to my email this morning,” she says slowly. “So technically, you should know my name as well.”
“Email?” There’s a low buzzing sound in my ears. Time seems to slow as realization dawns.
“Yup.”
Ohhhhh. Oh no.
No fecking way.
“Oh, feck.”
This woman—the hot American tourist from last night—is not a random woman passing through Dingle.
No. She wasn’t. Sheisn’t.
She’s Oliver’s fiancée’s little sister, the one who arrived in Dingle to plan the simplest road trip ever.
“I’m Maddie Hart.”
“Fuck.”
“You said that already.” Maddie lets out a huff of laughter and her face relaxes.
“I said feck before, not fuck.” My face, on the other hand, is definitely not relaxed.
“Whatever. Either way, it’s kinda how I felt when I figured it out.”
I’m not sure what to even say. Oliver is going to kill me. No, forget that, I’mnevergoing to tell him. Then I remember Maddie’s email, where she asked me to keep it a secret from Oliver that she’s here.Done. Jaysus, so done.
“You can, you know, pick your jaw off the table now.” She makes an upward motion with her pointer finger.
“And when...” I gulp. “When did you figure this out?”
Maddie takes a few steps forward until she’s only an arm’s length away from the table. I wish she’d back away, instead of coming closer.
“This morning, when I walked through town and saw you playing soccer.”
I cock a single eyebrow. “You watched the game?”
“Not intentionally.” She glances at the empty chair across from me. “May I?”
“I’m very busy?—”
“I feel so much better getting this all off my chest.” She pulls out the chair and sinks down, facing me, using two hands to pull the thick, long chunks of her dark hair over her shoulders until the tips gather on the table.
“I can’t say I agree.” As a matter of fact, I feel a billion times worse than when she first walked in, when I was fantasizing about what the afternoon could bring with the woman I’d kissed.
Maddie presses her lips together, barely suppressing a smile. It’s true, she looks far less tense now. What the hell is she thinking? I know what I’m tryingnotto think about, and it’s the feel of her hips as I pressed her against the wall last night, the way her lips parted as we kissed, the way the entire pub fell away.
This is not good. I need to get rid of this woman.
“So, Madison Elizabeth Hart,” I say, awkwardly stumbling over the sender name from her email. “What can I do to help you?” The unspoken second part of that sentence iswhat can I do to get you out of my pub and out of my town?
“Madison Elizabeth? What are you, my mother?”
“It was in your email.”
