Chapter Five #2
“We chose well.” She wasn’t the only one who’d narrowed in on that location.
“Let me know what you think of the boys playing trad tonight,” he said. “I think they’d be a good choice for Sterling’s do. I’ve hired them on before. Reliable. Talented.”
“They sound perfect.”
“That’s the hope.”
She laughed. Man, that felt good after the day she’d had.
He watched her with his brow pulled a little. “You look tired.”
“I worked nonstop today,” she said. “I got everything done I possibly could, and a few things that were barely possible.” She rubbed at her tired eyes. “Maybe Sterling won’t lecture me tomorrow morning.”
“He lectured you?” Conall signaled to the server, not missing a beat in their conversation. “What about?”
“I told him all the things we’ve figured out and finalized. He kept saying ‘Really? That’s done? Are you sure? You really got that done?’ It was like he was convinced we hadn’t accomplished anything.”
“Did he do that ‘Hmm’ thing?”
Keighley bit back a smile.
Conall’s jaw clenched a bit. “That sound makes a person want to punch the man in the nose.”
“Punching him never entered my mind,” she said.
“I was too caught off guard to do anything but sputter through a bunch of reassurances. It was just so frustrating. He knows I’m reliable and that I do good work.
It’s the whole reason he brought me here to plan this event.
But he was acting like I was a total flake. It was stupid.”
“Well, Sterling Westcott may be wealthy, but he’s not that bright.”
The server arrived, her paper pad ready to take their order.
“How ya, Mary?” Conall greeted her.
“Well,” she said.
“This here’s Keighley, from New York. Her day’s been a misery. I figured I’d best fill her up with good food so she doesn’t tear my head off.”
Mary nodded. “A fine idea.” She turned a friendly smile on Keighley. “All the food’s good here. And Jackie and the lads are playing tonight. That’ll liven up the place.”
They put in their orders, then talked, but not about Sterling or the event they were planning.
She asked about Conall’s other job, the one he’d been working on that day.
He asked about the events she’d planned in New York.
She showed him some of the TikToks she’d posted and the pictures she’d taken of their day of touristing, earning one of his bubbling laughs.
“A fellow doesn’t often get to be a tourist in his own hometown. It was fun to pretend for a day.”
“It was fun.” She took a bite of the shepherd’s pie Conall had suggested she order. “Oh, this is good.”
He grinned. “Did you think I was lying?”
“You did tell me yesterday that you kissed the Blarney Stone.”
“That makes a person talkative, not dishonest.”
“And what does shepherd’s pie make a person?” she asked after another bite.
“Very, very happy.”
The rest of the night went like that. Bantering and laughing.
Swapping stories of events gone awry, childhood mishaps.
She laughed more than she had in a very long time.
It was fun and relaxing, and she still managed to get some work done.
The band was perfect, and, before the night was over, Conall arranged for them to play at Sterling’s mingle.
She was a good event planner and a hard worker, but Conall was teaching her something about making that work fun and making time for something other than planning other people’s memorable moments.
If she didn’t have her standing morning meeting with Sterling, she would have been happy to stay all night, chatting and listening to music, laughing with Conall and the friends he introduced her to. But she wanted her next meeting with Sterling to go better than her last.
“I probably need to go,” she said.
“Really?” He sounded genuinely disappointed. That did her a world of good.
“I have my daily meeting with Sterling in the morning. If he lectures me again and I’m exhausted, I’ll probably either tell him off or cry.”
Conall smiled. “I’d enjoy watching you tell him off.”
He lightened her heart. She appreciated that so much. “And cry? Would you enjoy watching that too?”
“No.” He set his hand on hers where it rested on the tabletop. “Not at all.”
“Then I should go.” She kept her hand in his. She liked the feel of it. “The event we’re planning is going to be great, and I don’t want to undermine that by making Sterling think I’m an idiot.”
Conall shook his head. “If he thinks that, he’s the idiot.”
She kind of loved the way he said “idiot.” His Irish accent turned it into something more like “idjet,” and it made her smile.
“Come on, then,” he said. “I’ll walk you back.”
“I won’t say no.”
They moved toward the door, still hand in hand. She couldn’t remember the last time she held hands with someone. It was sweet and tender, and she loved it.
He waved to a friend they’d chatted with. “We’re gonna head on.”
His friend nodded. “Ah, sure. Come ’round again, Keighley.”
They stepped out. Conall made a quick check of the street, then, tugging her along by the hand, crossed quickly.
“What time do you meet with Sterling tomorrow?” he asked.
“Eight o’clock.”
That brought his eyes to her again. “In the morning?”
She laughed out loud. “You Irish aren’t fans of the a.m., are you?”
He shook his head. “Don’t believe in it.”
“I’ll text you tomorrow and tell you all about it— sometime after noon.”
“That’d be appreciated.”
The walk back to the Marker felt shorter than she knew it was. She enjoyed being with Conall, and he seemed to enjoy her company as well.
He rode with her up the elevator. He even slipped his arm around her and tucked her in close. She could grow used to that.
At the door to her room, he leaned against the wall beside the doorframe. “Don’t let Sterling talk down to you tomorrow. You’re planning a great event for him; he shouldn’t get to make you feel otherwise.”
She looked up at him. “You’re right. I’ve wanted him to approve of me so badly that I basically let him decide if I deserved to be approved of.”
“You do, though. Every person I introduced you to tonight liked you straight off. The more I know you, the more I like you. If Sterling Westcott can’t see that, he’s not worth your worry.”
She set her hand on his arm. “Thank you.” Keighley stretched up enough to press a quick, light kiss to his lips before stepping back again.
She could tell she was blushing a little, but he grinned, clearly not offended.
“Sleep well, Keighley. Fight the good fight in the morning and tell me how it goes. But do wait until a less miserable hour.”
“I will.” She stood in the doorway and watched as he walked back down the hall, his hands stuffed in his pockets, whistling one of the tunes the band had played that night.
Keighley couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her heart flip around like it was doing now. He was wonderful. She had spent so many weeks wondering what it would take to catch Sterling’s eye and what it would be like to have him fall for her and. . .
And maybe she was the “idjet.”