Chapter 37

thirty-seven

DAGR

Dagr was already at the airport, pacing nervously in the lounge provided for private jet customers. Bébhinn should be landing in four minutes.

He couldn’t believe he’d asked her to come. Even though it was a charity event, it felt very much like a date.

“Because it is a date, you pillock,” he chided himself.

Had he given himself thirty extra seconds from the time he climbed out of her Jeep that night to when he opened her driver’s door, he might have kept his mouth closed.

All he could remember was that he didn’t want the night to end. He didn’t want months to pass before he could see her again. He wanted to walk by her side and feel her warmth on his arm.

So, he’d asked her out and not to a simple dinner. A black-tie affair that would have many people wondering about who she was and what she was to him.

He’d looked up the O’Faolain family, and though they were more well-known in the States, their business dealings in Ireland were impressive enough that once Bébhinn’s name was discovered, there were many people who would recognize who she was.

A good friend of his, Lee Whiten, a London-based solicitor with a second office in Dublin, mentioned to Dagr a few weeks back when they’d met for drinks that his biggest clients in Ireland were looking to buy a considerable tract of land.

He would like to hire Dagr’s firm to oversee that the wildlife preservation compliance laws were followed.

When he found out the clients were Bran and Patrick O’Faolain, he’d about shit himself. The thought of entangling himself further in Bébhinn’s family had him breaking out in a cold sweat.

He knew from the hundreds of conversations he and Bébhinn had shared that her family was close and clearly loved one another, but if he were to help Lee on the case, he feared that they might think he was attempting to ingratiate himself into the family once they found out that he and Bébhinn were good friends.

And they would find out. He hadn’t told Bébhinn about the offer to work with Lee because he knew what she’d say. She would ask him to do it because her family deserved a solicitor who cared about the land.

Consequences—he was currently reaping them with his spontaneity.

The good news was that Bébhinn hadn’t been acting differently since she’d said yes. Texts and calls remained as lighthearted as ever. They always discussed their days and work.

She was on summer break, which meant taking on more responsibility with the family’s businesses, including board meetings. He loved hearing about her design ideas, and he could listen to the stories about her mom and aunts’ antics for hours.

He’d almost convinced himself that he was making too much of the so-called date when he saw Bébhinn through the terminal’s windows disembark from the plane, and sweat immediately beaded his brow, and his heart tried to beat out of his chest.

She was wearing loose-fitting blue jeans and a navy t-shirt with white sneakers. Her stunning dark hair was swirling around her shoulders and down her back. She smiled at the attendant as she passed, looking fresh and lovely. And young.

Swallowing his nerves, he shoved out the heavy glass door and started in her direction.

She yelled, “Dagr!” and waved, picking up her pace even though she was dragging a huge suitcase behind her.

When they were close, there was an awkward moment where they both had their hands stretched toward one another, each going in for a hug and then thinking better of it.

He settled for placing one hand on her hip and leaning in to kiss her cheek. A hug would have been less intimate. She looked bemused and patted his arm like she was placating his odd behavior.

He pulled away and pointed to the cream-colored monstrosity at her side. “That suitcase is bigger than you are. I promise, my guest room has perfectly good pillows. You needn’t have packed bedding,” he teased.

“Shithead,” was her immediate response. “You clearly don’t know how much space is required to pack for a fancy dress event. Gray said I was being foolish for not shipping it straight to your place.”

She rolled her eyes at the thought, but as he took over pulling a suitcase that had to weigh eighty pounds, he couldn’t say Gray’s idea didn’t have merit.

“I told you that you didn’t have to meet me, Dagr,” she complained as they made their way to his black and white Range Rover parked in the small lot next to the lounge. “Though I can’t say I’m sorry to see your handsome face.”

He felt his face flush at the compliment even though she was clearly teasing him. He really needed to pull his head out of his ass and stop overanalyzing…her…their relationship…everything.

“I’m happy to see you.” At his serious tone, she looked across her shoulder where he walked next to her, surprise widening her eyes.

“I’m happy to see you too,” she admitted before asking, “is it me? Or are we less awkward over the phone?”

He coughed out an unexpected laugh at her honesty. “You aren’t wrong,” he answered as he placed her suitcase in the rear and opened the passenger door to let her in.

Before he could shut her door, she touched his hand to get his attention. “How about we agree to have the same relationship in person as we have online. I’m not an indecisive person, and you sure as hell aren’t. From now on, we say what we want, when we want. Deal?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re brilliant?”

“Often,” she grinned.

After that, the drive held no side glances or silences.

They were back to their comfortable selves.

They spoke of the evening ahead and how long she would need to “beautify” herself.

He couldn’t imagine a woman as stunning as Bébhinn needing two hours to accomplish what was already done, but what did he know?

They headed straight to the antique wallpaper place to pick up some paper for her mother before going to lunch and then his flat. When she was silent for more than a few minutes, he glanced over, not wanting to take his eyes off traffic for longer than that.

She was typing on her phone with a strained look.

“Everything okay?”

She sighed heavily before answering, glancing at him with a sheepish expression. “There’s a member of my Dublin hiking club that’s got a thing for me. I’ve known her—him—I should say for quite a while now. Justin, who used to be called Jina, has made his interest known for over a year.

“My friends think Jina became Justin when I made it clear I wasn’t into girls, but I would certainly hope someone wouldn’t change their whole identity just to date a person. Justin is a great person to hike with, and I’ve always enjoyed his company, even when he was still Jina.

“I’m trying my hardest not to hurt his feelings, but our group communicates through our group Facebook chat, and Justin keeps private messaging me.”

“It’s never a comfortable place to not reciprocate a person’s feelings. I’ve had that happen in the workplace before. Not a good time,” he admitted.

“Oh, really? I’ll want those stories and their names in case I need to fend off women tonight. That way at least I’ll be prepared,” she joked.

Bébhinn sounded like she might not be joking, and he couldn’t help but feel the satisfaction that came with knowing she might be the tiniest bit jealous.

“Tell me what Justin messaged.”

After explaining that she’d forgotten to message the group until that morning, that she wouldn’t be able to make it, she said that Justin had messaged, “I hope everything is okay. I’m so disappointed you won’t be able to come.

I was hoping that this was a trip we could get to know each other better. ”

“He isn’t subtle, I’ll give him that.”

“Not at all,” she said glumly, still staring at the message. “What would you reply?”

He thought about it for a minute as he maneuvered into a parking spot a few blocks from the antique store. “If it were me, I would want absolute honesty. Make sure there is no room for misunderstanding or hope. How about, ‘Everything is fine, I just completely forgot to message everyone.’”

“Speak slow,” she interrupted, “I’m typing.”

“Okay,” he chuckled, “then write, ‘I’m spending the weekend with my…’” He hesitated. “‘With my boyfriend.’” FML.

He saw her fingers falter. “I only thought if you wrote boyfriend, it would soften the blow. A ‘It’s not you, it’s just that I’m already taken’ kind of a thing,” he quickly added.

“You’re a genius.” She looked up from her phone and grinned. Pressing send on her phone, she said, “Done and done. Whew! That’s a relief. Let’s go look at wallpaper.”

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