18. Aisling
EIGHTEEN
Aisling
PAST
“Oh, honey, I really should have made you buy a better jacket before we left.” My mom gives me a once-over and huffs.
I look down at the rain jacket I’ve had since high school. It’s basic, black, and keeps me dry. I don’t see the problem here. “What’s wrong with it?” I ask as nicely as I can because, quite frankly, my mood is sour as shit this morning.
It has been ever since I hung up on a certain ex of mine last night.
It pains me to say this, but I really should have listened to her and ignored the asshole’s call in the first place. However, there is something about Theo that always makes me feel…weak. I really hate admitting that.
She looks out onto the fjord in front of us and sighs. I had no idea Ireland even had fjords. “If you think it’s windy now, you’re going to be blown away—no pun intended—by how windy it gets when we’re on that boat.”
I frown. “Now you tell me. I could have brought an extra hoodie or something.” Then I just wave her off. “Whatever, I’ll be fine. I’m from the Midwest. I’m built for cold weather.”
Thirty minutes later, the fjord proves me wrong as the wind lashes around the boat like a cold tyrant. My Midwestern ass is freezing, and I’m about ready to cry.
“You sure you don’t want to go inside?” she asks for the tenth time.
“No.” I shake my head. “We already went inside. You can barely see anything.” And even though my teeth are chattering as I speak, the view is breathtaking, and I would rather be cold than stay in the heated cabin and miss it.
“Okay.” She pats my thigh, snug and warm in her insulated jacket and fleece beanie. “I’m going to get us coffee then. That should help.”
“All right.”
She rises from the bench we’ve been occupying and disappears around the corner, leaving me by myself. I take a deep breath, stand up, and walk to the railing that overlooks the water. It feels about twenty degrees colder here than it did under the roof, but the sun is shining on my face, and when I look up, I can see the whole mountainside from this viewpoint.
“Did you know your nose turns red when you’re cold?” I hear a familiar voice say from my left.
I turn and see Finn standing there, appearing much warmer than I am in a hoodie and jacket, even though neither is zipped.
“I did know that,” I tell him with a tiny grin.
“Goes well with that blush you always seem to have when I’m around.”
That blush he’s talking about makes an abrupt appearance, and he laughs. I roll my eyes but can’t help the grin that slips out. Or the shiver that quickly follows.
“Here,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket. “Take that off for a minute,” he adds, pointing to mine.
“I don’t know how things work in this country, but removing clothing is not usually how we get warm in America.”
“No?” His eyes darken. “Didn’t you know that skin-to-skin contact is the best way to conserve body heat?” I nearly choke on my own spit as an image of our naked bodies tangled together is thrust to the forefront of my mind. “I’m giving you my hoodie,” he clarifies with a knowing smirk.
“Oh.” I bite my bottom lip to suppress a laugh. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to get cold.”
“I’ve been on this cruise more times than I can count. I’m used to the wind, and I’ve lived here my entire life.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve endured twenty-four Midwestern winters. You’d think I could handle a little boat wind, but here we are.”
I watch as he does that sexy man thing, grabbing the back of his hoodie and pulling it over his head. It tugs at the T-shirt underneath, and I catch a glimpse of bare skin. I try not to drool.
He hands it to me, and I thank him before quickly pulling it over my head because I’m so cold. But then the scent hits my senses, fresh and woodsy, and I nearly groan.
Oh god, this man smells good. Is that aftershave? Soap?
Don’t smell the hoodie. Don’t you dare sniff the hoodie.
I manage to pull it all the way down, and by all the way down, I mean the thing hits me mid-thigh. I reach for my jacket but catch Finn in my periphery.
He’s watching me with an intensity that wasn’t there just a moment ago, his gaze roaming over me in a predatory way I feel all the way down to my toes and back up again.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he likes me in his clothes.
That makes two of us.
I pull my jacket back on, and we stand side by side, leaning on the railing. “So, what do you think? Too cold? Rather be back in the mall?”
“The mall with the wall was nice. But no.” I gaze down the fjord. The water appears almost endless. It feels untouched by time. “This is—” I struggle to find the words. “This is perfect. I still can’t believe places like this exist.” I turn and see him staring, and I feel embarrassed. “What?”
“I think I’m beginning to realize just how much I take for granted,” he says, turning his attention back to the water. “I’ve never doubted that Ireland is beautiful, but seeing it through someone else’s eyes makes me suddenly grateful for this opportunity.”
“To be a tour guide?”
He nods. “Let’s just say it wasn’t my first choice out of uni.”
“No?” I scoff. “But you seem perfect for the role. Whenever my mom returns from an O’Connell tour, she talks nonstop about all the strapping young lads who led her tours.”
He laughs. “That is what sets us apart from our competitors, yes.”
“Well, I think you make a great tour guide,” I tell him. “Even though I was a little disappointed we didn’t get the guy who collects plants while on tour for his wife.”
“That’s Seamus,” he states. “He’s grand. Lives in Belfast, and yeah, he loves his wife something fierce. Spends half his tour sharing stories about her and their kids. It sounds like it’d get annoying, but people live for it.”
“That’s what my mom said.” The wind sends a wisp of hair cascading across my face. Finn absently reaches out and tucks it behind my ear. I don’t think he even realizes he’s done it until his fingers brush against my earlobe, and he quickly pulls back. “She—um.” I try to remember what I was about to say. “She’s a hopeless romantic, despite being married to my abusive father and losing my stepdad to cancer. You would think that would make her a cynic, but she’s the exact opposite. She loves experiencing other people’s joy.
“Your father is abusive?” His voice becomes hollow, and I notice an intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“He was,” I answer. “To her.”
“But not to you?”
I shake my head and watch his shoulders drop as he exhales. “I barely remember him—just fleeting glimpses here and there. He, um—” I hesitate with how much to reveal because while I know my mom isn’t ashamed, I also know it isn’t my story to share. “It reached a point where she had enough evidence to press charges and send him to prison.”
“He’s still there?”
Another shake of my head. “He died,” I answer. “Got assaulted by another inmate a year or so after he went in.”
He grunts. “That’s fitting.”
As much as my mom didn’t want to admit such a thing, it had been a blessing. My dad would have eventually gotten out. The prison sentence for domestic abuse was never long enough, and the moment he got out, he would have sought his revenge.
“What are your parents like?” I ask, needing a change of subject. I also realize I’ve never heard him mention his family—not once. He shares little tidbits about his life while talking on the bus, but it’s always about shenanigans on tour or at school—never about his family.
“My mom is lovely. Dad is a bit rigid,” he says with that casual shrug I’ve gotten so used to.
“Any brothers or sisters?”
“Only child, like you, I’m assuming?”
I nod. “My stepdad didn’t have any kids. He was older when he met my mom, and I think they were both content with just the three of us.”
“And he was good to you?”
“My stepfather? Yeah, Saul was great. Never missed a dance performance or?—”
“Bollocks, I nearly forgot about the Irish dancing.” His eyes sparkle with amusement. “What I wouldn’t give to see you all dressed up in one of those costumes with your hair in curls.”
“Never gonna happen.”
“Just one dance?”
I snort. “No.”
“Not even a little one?” His grin is at a total panty-melting level now.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re daft if you think I’m letting this go.”
“Why do you even care?” I ask, feeling that fluttery feeling deep in my belly. “It’s not like you haven’t seen a girl dance before. I’ve heard Irish dancing is kind of a thing here.”
“I have, yes.” He leans in ever so slightly. I can see his breath as he speaks, and he’s so close that it almost brushes my cheek. “But none of them are you.”
* * *
My mother is meddling again.
After she went to “get coffee” on our morning cruise, she didn’t return for over thirty minutes. When she finally did, she threw up her hands in feigned exasperation and told Finn and me, “They were out! Can you believe it? I stood in line forever, and then the espresso machine just broke!”
“So, were they out, or did the machine break?” Finn asked, not even trying to hide his amusement.
“Both,” she answered. “When the machine breaks, they’re obviously out of coffee.”
Obviously.
Now, it is later in the afternoon, and we just had a light lunch at the café here at Kylemore Abbey. We are finishing our tour of the castle. It is self-guided, and like most self-guided tours, I lost my mom about halfway through when she got bored of my stopping to read every single detail about everything.
I majored in history for a reason. Sue me.
Just as I step out of the Abbey, I spot Finn talking to my mom and a group of women from Arizona. My mom’s face lights up when she sees me and immediately waves me over. When Finn looks up, our eyes meet for a brief moment before his gaze travels over the hoodie I’m still wearing.
His hoodie.
I tried to give it back to him after the boat docked this morning, but he told me to keep it.
How long, though? Forever? Because I was starting to get attached. To the hoodie or the man, Ash? I let out a sigh as my fingers curl over the cuffs and close the gap, joining them on the trail by the water’s edge.
“Hi, sweetheart,” my mom greets me, wrapping her arm around the crook of my elbow. She has her long hair down today, topped with a cute wool hat she bought at a shop in Galway. “Did you enjoy the Abbey?”
“I did,” I say, adding with a slight chuckle/ “I’m sorry I bored you. Again.”
“Nonsense,” she says before turning to the group. “Ash majored in history at Notre Dame with a minor in art history.” The women nod eagerly. Finn simply stares at me as if he’s absorbing this new piece of information about me. “She’s always had a passion for it, which is why I knew she’d enjoy going on this trip with me.”
“Sounds like it took some convincing,” the frizzy blond wearing too much perfume asks. “What was the holdup? I would have jumped at the chance to spend a week with my mom when I was your age.”
“I just had a lot going on,” I answer politely, through a tight smile. Like a whole life to try to put back together…
“Finn just told us about all the homemade products the nuns make and sell in the gift shop—soaps, chocolate, and even pottery. We were planning to check it out.”
“You’re not going to walk down to the old chapel?” I ask. We’d talked about walking the trail together at lunch.
Her eyes dart to Finn and then back to mine. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh, not this time. I think I’ll find a nice spot by the café and just enjoy the weather and chat with the ladies for a while. But you go ahead. Maybe Finn could join you?”
“I’m sure Finn has things he needs to take care of,” I say to her, hoping she hasn’t put him on the spot. He is, after all, working.
She looks over to him, and he smirks. “Finn doesn’t mind.”
She returns his grin with a broad smile. “See, Ash? He doesn’t mind. Do you want me to get you some soap?”
“Obviously.” And then I add as she starts to walk away, “And don’t forget the chocolate.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Finn and I begin down the trail, walking side by side as the mature trees close in around us.
“I think your mam loves me.” Finn chuckles.
“Well, not to burst your bubble, but considering the last guy I dated, her standards are quite low at the moment.” When his brow lifts in amusement, I realize I’ve messed up. “I didn’t mean to imply that we were dating or that we’re going to date.” I let out a sigh and add, “Shit. Can we just forget I said that?”
He laughs. “Absolutely not.”
“I hate you.”
“Ouch, and here I thought I was doing so well, winning over your ma like that.”
“Well, she did seem to like Clint decently well?—”
“That daft eejit?”
I let out a laugh. “And then there was the cab driver who took us from the airport.”
“What?” he nearly groans. “And here I thought Deidre and I had something special.”
I shrug. “Sorry.”
We walk in comfortable silence for a while until he finally asks, “What were you doing in Dublin that night—when we ran into each other?”
I think back. It feels like a lifetime ago, but in reality, it’s only been a few days. “Mom had succumbed to her jet lag and gone to bed early, and I just needed to get out of the hotel for a bit. I don’t know why, but I decided to take a cab back into the city instead of wandering the sleepy streets around our hotel. Of course, I got lost?—”
“Not lost.” He flashes me a grin.
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “Not lost. Just searching for something . By the way, I still maintain the belief that you made that up on the spot.”
“Then you’d be absolutely right.” He laughs. “Total bollocks on my part. But it got you to stop and talk to me, didn’t it?”
“It did,” I reply and can’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you follow through? I kept expecting you to invite me to the pub or ask me out to dinner.”
“I should have.”
“Why didn’t you? Did you have plans?”
For once, Finn genuinely looks embarrassed. “No, my best friend, Rian, had to catch an early flight and canceled on me, so I was on my own for the night. He was actually headed to the States.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Seattle. He thinks they might move him there permanently.”
“That’s a beautiful part of the country. Rains a lot, but I suppose he’s used to it. I’d take rain any day over a blizzard.”
“I can’t say we see many of those around here.” He pauses and turns his head. “I regretted not coming after you almost immediately.”
“Is that why you ignored me the next day at the pub?” I don’t intend for it to sound as harsh as it does, but I might still be a bit bitter about how our second meeting went.
“No.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze shifting to the water. “I was frustrated.”
“Frustrated?”
“Yes.” It’s then that I realize we’ve both stopped walking, standing in the middle of the trail, facing each other. “I’d sat for hours at a pub a couple blocks away from where we ran into each other, hoping I’d see you walk through the door. But you never did. And then the next day, there you were at a completely different pub, only this time, I?—”
I bite my lip because I know what he wants to say. Now that I’m on his tour, things are different. He can’t act on whatever we might have felt that night because this is his job, and our relationship must remain professional for the entirety of my time in Ireland.
“Well, regardless of what pub it was, I’m just glad we found our way back to each other,” I say. “I could really use a friend in my life right now.”
He swallows and then eventually nods, letting the lie slide from my lips as effortlessly as his. “Yeah, me too.”