“Patrick,” my husband said with a nod, shaking Charlie’s hand. “Me wife, Amy.”

“Nice to meet you, Amy.”

“She’s workin.’ Ye can talk to me.”

I felt my face heat over the way Patrick was behaving. He might as well have pissed on my leg. The guy was just being nice, and he hadn’t even tried to flirt.

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea,” Charlie said, chuckling.

Patrick’s fingers began to tap on the bar top, and before I knew what I was doing, the palm of my hand slapped down over them, pinning them to the polished wood. “Knock it off, Patrick,” I warned through my teeth.

“Vera!” Charlie yelled across the pub. “Come over here, baby.”

A thin woman around my age stood up from where she’d been sitting surrounded by a big group of rough looking men and strutted toward us, her eyes never straying from Charlie’s. “Whattya need, baby?”

“Patrick and Amy, meet my wife, Vera,” Charlie said proudly.

I snickered, looking over at Patrick, whose expression hadn’t changed.

“Nice to meet you, Vera.”

“Whoa, you’re American.”

“Born and raised.”

“Well, shit,” she pushed Charlie out of the way and slid onto a barstool. “It’s nice to finally hear someone who sounds like home.”

“Where are you guys from?” I asked, wiping my hand down the cool wood of the bar top.

“I’m from Washington, but Charlie’s from Oregon, so we live there. How about you?”

“I’ve lived all over. Moved here less than a year ago, though, and it looks like I’m staying since I married an Irishman.” I smiled at Patrick, who still hadn’t said a word, and watched his eyes go soft.

“Well, hello there, handsome,” Vera said, following my gaze to Patrick. “Vera.”

“Married,” Patrick replied, making me want to flick him in the forehead.

“Yeah, I got that from your wife.”

“Get your man a beer, Amy,” Charlie said, sitting on the stool between Vera and Patrick. “On me.”

“I’ll buy me own,” Patrick argued.

“After the first one you will. I just made a new friend and I’m gonna buy his ass a drink.”

“Yer delusional.”

“I’ll grow on ya.”

“He will,” Vera piped in, nodding her head. “I didn’t even like him at first.”

“Sounds familiar,” Patrick mumbled.

“You just watch, man. You’ll dig me.”

My gaze shot between them as I watched them banter back and forth, and for the first time in weeks I saw my husband’s shoulders lose a little of their tension.

“What are you guys doing in Ireland?” I asked Vera as Patrick and Charlie started talking about motorcycles.

“We’re on our honeymoon. Well, sort of.” She sighed. “His club had some business over here, so Charlie brought me along, promising a romantic getaway. Romantic … shit. You see the big one over there, bigger than all the others? His room is next to ours in the house we’re staying at, and when he busts ass at night, we can fuckin’ smell him through the vent.”

I snorted. “Sounds romantic, for sure. Club?”

“Motorcycle club.”

“Oh,” I whispered, not really sure what being in a motorcycle club entailed.

“It is what it is. That’s life, ya know? I married him knowing that this was how it would be, no use bitching about it now.”

“I can understand that,” I replied quietly, glancing at Patrick.

“Yeah, your man’s got that same look about him.”

“What look?”

“That hard look. You know, always ready for something bad to happen—almost like they expect it.” I nodded. “It’s worth it, though, I think, living with that look. Because we get the other looks, too, the sweet ones and the sexy ones and the exhausted ones. They only share those looks with us.”

“I like the sexy look best,” I murmured as Patrick glanced up and met my eyes, his lips tipping up a fraction until his dimple came out.

“No doubt.” Vera laughed.

“Is your husband a mechanic?” I asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Sure, he works on bikes and shit.”

“Patrick’s a mechanic, too, but I think he works mostly on cars.”

“That right?” she glanced over at the men. “Well, maybe they’ll hit it off and then me and you can hang out more while we’re here. I’ve been bored outta my mind.”

“Sounds good to me,” I answered with a grin. I knew plenty of people, but I think Vera was my very first girlfriend in Ireland.

We chatted while I worked, our husbands moving off at some point to talk to the rest of Charlie’s friends, and I learned that Vera had run away from home at sixteen. She was a year older than me and had been with Charlie off and on for the past two years, the last ‘off’ ending with a marriage proposal. They hadn’t been married long, but it sounded like they’d been living together for a while. She didn’t have that starry-eyed newlywed look about her that I knew I still had. It was a more full-bodied look, comfortable, solid.

The night went by more quickly than it usually did, and before I knew it, I was closing down and locking up. My boss let me work a couple nights a week on my own, usually when it was slow and he knew Patrick would be there. I loved those nights, when Patrick and I would work together to close up. It gave us a few minutes alone that we wouldn’t have had otherwise in our packed house.