Page 23 of Since We're Here
“Sure, no arguments there.” She grins brightly at me. “But I can do this.” Maddie slides her hand down to grab my fingers and reaches out and takes my other arm, and now we’re in some kind of awkward pose like middle school kids at a dance. “Come on. Let me. Please. I need this.”
“What are you hiding from, little tourist?”
She huffs with offense. “I am not a tourist.”
I cock my head to the side and narrow my eyes.
“Okay. I’m planning a trip during which I’ll be a tourist. But right now? I’m basically a local.” She bites her lip and smiles up at me.
This girl is flirting with me, which never happens when women are sober in the light of day. Usually, they’re scared off by... well, me. The things I say. The natural look of my face.
“You’re not going to work at this pub.”
“How long until that interview you have scheduled?”
“Feck. Probably about twenty minutes, now that you’ve distracted me.”
“I bet that woman is already there waiting for you. You’re going to force her to take the interview from her car. In the parking lot.”
She’s right, and it annoys the shite out of me.
“You’re still all wet.”
Maddie glances down at her shirt, still clinging to her stomach, then back up at me.
“There are O’Brien’s t-shirts for sale right behind the bar. I’ll wear one of those.” She nods her head to the unorganized stack of shirts behind me. “By the way, you are missing out on a huge merchandising opportunity. Why don’t you have long-sleeved t-shirts? Hoodies? Pint glasses? Key chains, bar mats, pens... youcould pick anything and put an O’Brien’s logo on it. Tourists would love it.”
I ignore the last comments. I’ve got about one minute to make this decision.
She could cover for an hour or two, then I’d take back over. And deal with the rest of Beth’s scheduled shifts later.
“And I can cover whatever shifts you have open tomorrow. And the next day. The rest of this week, even.”
“This is the worst idea ever.”
“Says the guy who now has fifteen minutes until a very important interview.”
“It’ll be a disaster.”
“No, it won’t.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m here anyway; just let me help. I have nothing else to do.”
I narrow my eyes and study her eager face, still flushed from her poorly planned bike ride.
“I suppose it would be helpful.”
“Great, I accept! Only if you give me one unique thing you’ve done in... Dublin.”
“For the road trip?” I pull away from her.
“Yup.”
I sigh loudly and she grins.
“Guinness Brewery.”
“Nope, try again. I don’t need you to tell me that one.”
“Temple Bar.” I turn toward the stack of t-shirts. “What size are you?”
