Page 22 of Surrender
Gwen hesitated, then glanced out the window, the odd image still fresh in her mind. She looked back at Sophie and ordered a pint of Guinness with a bit of blackberry in it, then said, “Do you know, I saw the oddest thing just up the down there. A group of—tourists, I should think—were passing a herd of sheep, and each of them was shielding their eyes like this.” She held up her hands, blocking her view in demonstration.
Sophie burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s my fault.”
Gwen blinked. “Your fault?”
“If a tourist annoys me, I tell them that if they look a sheep in the eye, it’ll drop dead,” Sophie said matter-of-factly, completely unbothered.
Gwen snorted and then laughed outright. It had caught her off guard, bubbling up too fast to suppress. That was the last explanation she’d expected.
“That’s… diabolical,” she managed, grinning with admiration.
Sophie shrugged, clearly pleased with herself, and reached for a clean glass. “They come into the countryside acting like they own the place, and complain they can’t charge their stupid phones. The least I can do is mess with them a bit.”
“Well, it worked. They were practically falling over each other.”
She pulled the tap with the kind of practiced rhythm that only comes from muscle memory. Gwen watched as she built the pint of Guinness with easy precision, letting it settle halfway before topping it off with the perfect creamy crown.
It was oddly soothing to watch.
After pouring in the blackberry, Sophie set the glass down in front of her. “Cheers to the sheep.”
Gwen raised her glass, still smiling. The tension in her chest hadn’t disappeared, not completely—but it had loosened, just enough to breathe. She hadn’t expected Sophie to be funny. Or so disarming.
Still, she reminded herself, this wasn’t friendship. It was reconnaissance.
She had to stay sharp.
Gwen took a sip of her pint. “You’ve done a brilliant job with the place and I love the mural outside.”
“Thanks very much. Our friend, Emma Young, painted that and it’s my brother really you should be complimenting. He selected this place. In fact, this really is all his fault—er I mean, his dream come true.”
Gwen chuckled a little. Although she hadn’t expected to, she liked Sophie. “Well, no matter who’s responsible, it’s lovely. Fair play to you both.” That was a genuine compliment whether she had rehearsed it or not.
“Are you from around here?” asked Sophie.
“I live in Dublin.”
“Oh, so you’re traveling around?”
“Something like that. I, well, I decided it was high time I saw what the country looked like beyond the city walls.”
What just happened? That wasn’t the story. That wasn’t what she’d rehearsed at all!
Great. Now what?
Gwen took another sip of her pint while she thought. Don’t panic. This wasn’t so bad. Sophie seemed to buy it, so all wasn’t lost.
But if that were really true, guilt wouldn’t be creeping up her spine like it was.
“Would you like to order some food?”
Food yes. Food was what she needed. “Definitely. What would you recommend?”
“Honestly, everything’s delicious. My brother’s the cook,” Sophie said, with only a hint of smugness. “His special today is game pie—melt-in-your-mouth kind of stuff. Or if you’re in the mood for something lighter, he does a Caesar salad with his own dressing. Secret recipe. He guards it like it’s the crown jewels.”
“Can I order the salad as a side?”
Sophie’s heart sank a little. Why? She didn’t know. Salad just felt like a red flag. “Sure, you can.”
