12. Fáilte
FáILTE
PATRICK
Patrick was smiling at something one of the customers said and pulling a fresh draft when awareness ghosted over his skin.
It wasn't anything he could have explained. Just a feeling.
He looked up, searching for the source and found Morgan Sullivan standing just inside the door, her eyes fixed on him.
He set the frosted mug in front of the waiting customer without looking and put both hands on the bar.
Her dark hair caught the soft golden light, highlighting waves of auburn as it fell over her shoulders and deepening the warm glow of her skin. Even from this distance, her green eyes stood out.
Her slow blink was deliberate. I’m here, it said. Now what?
He couldn’t have stopped the slow smile curling his lips if he tried.
“What can I get you?” he said, when she reached him.
She looked at the bar for a moment, then at the bottles lined behind it on the glass shelves.
“Jameson,” she said. “On the rocks.”
His grin grew as he reached for the bottle without comment. Pulled a rocks glass, added several cubes of ice, and poured without conscious thought. He was too busy internally celebrating her arrival.
“Nice place,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Who is Jake?”
“My uncle.”
“Ah. Family business.”
“One of them.” He held her gaze. “I’m glad you came.”
“Don't make it weird,” she said, and took a sip of the Jameson.
He laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
Riley appeared at his elbow approximately ninety seconds later, which was about eighty seconds longer than Patrick had expected her to hold out.
She moved in next to Patrick, nudging him out of the way, running off an order of half a dozen drinks for a table in the lounge. Then she zeroed in on Morgan, her violet eyes bright with curiosity and interest.
“Welcome to Jake’s,” Riley said, pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher behind the bar. “First time?”
“In here? Yes. In a bar, no.”
Riley grinned. “So what brings you to town… uh, sorry, what’s your name?”
Patrick kept his expression neutral. He knew exactly what Riley was doing. He counted down silently, curious to see how Morgan would respond.
Morgan’s lips quirked, as if she knew what Riley was doing too. “Morgan. And I’m visiting my grandfather.”
“Nice. My grandfather owns this place. I’m Riley.”
“Your grandfather is Jack?” Morgan asked.
“Yep. How did you know?”
“My grandfather speaks highly of him. He’s the one who suggested I stop by.”
“Then you are doubly welcome. Fáilte,” Riley said, welcoming Morgan in Irish.
“Go raibh maith agat,” Morgan replied in thanks, the lilt sliding smoothly over her lips.
“You speak Irish.”
“Not really,” Morgan said without expounding.
Riley tilted her head toward Patrick and leaned toward Morgan. “Is this guy bothering you?”
“Not yet.”
Riley laughed. “Give it time.”
“Hey,” Patrick protested, but he was smiling too.
“Are you two… together?” Morgan asked carefully, looking from one to the other.
“Since birth,” Riley said with amusement.
“Siblings?”
“Cousins.”
“Ah.” Was he imagining it, or did Morgan seem relieved by Riley’s answer?
“Your order,” Patrick said, sliding the now-filled tray back to Riley.
“Right. Well, Morgan, if you need anything while you're in town—recommendations, someone to show you around—I'm available. Patrick is too, I guess, though he's less reliable.”
Riley went, taking her time about it. Morgan watched her go with a thoughtful expression he hadn't quite catalogued yet.
“Your cousin is interesting,” Morgan said.
“Nosy, you mean.”
“I was going to say protective, but that works too.”
“Are you okay hanging out for a bit? I’ve got an hour left in my shift. Then we can talk.”
She glanced at her watch. “We’ll see.”
A large group came in all at once, and from one minute to the next, the line at the bar was three deep. When things settled, Morgan was no longer where she was.
Patrick scanned the room and found her near the fireplace, in conversation with his grandfather.
The Callaghan patriarch was leaning slightly toward Morgan with the focused interest he gave people he found worth talking to.
And Morgan looked… relaxed. Not the managed composure she usually wore, but actually relaxed. Her hands were loose around her glass, her shoulders settled, and she was giving Jack her undivided attention.
Patrick watched for a moment longer than he should have, vaguely aware of something shifting in his chest.
Then he went back to work.
Morgan was still there as he collected the last of his tips and let his uncle know he was taking off for the night. The knowing glance Jake gave him after flicking to Morgan let him know that Morgan’s presence had been noted by more than just Riley.
Patrick grabbed his jacket and crossed the room, trying not to appear overeager. “Thanks for waiting.”
“No problem. I like your grandfather.”
“Most people do,” Patrick said truthfully. “Want to go somewhere and talk? There’s an IHOP just down the road.”
“What’s wrong with here?”
He glanced back toward the bar, where Riley, Jake, Taryn, Jack, and Ian were now clustered together and looking his way.
She followed his gaze, her cheeks slightly rosier than they had been only a few minutes earlier. “Yes, IHOP is fine.”