“So . . . Where’d you meet this guy?”

“At the park one day. He kind of . . . ran into me.” I toy with a coaster to avoid her gaze.

“Sounds romantic.”

“It was, in a way.” If pipe bombs could be called romantic. He did save my life, though, and that’s romantic, on steroids. And he brought my wallet back to me, cash and all, which tells me that he’s honest, a quality I admire. “Whatever. I’m only here for another week anyway, so . . .” Next Sunday will come too soon.

“So don’t waste time being so . . . you.” She sticks her finger into her glass and spins it around. “What’s his name again? River?” Before I can ask why, she’s yelling it across the bar.

Green eyes flash our way and I hold my breath.

She holds up two fingers. “Two more, please!”

I exhale with relief as I watch him grab the freshly cracked bottle of Jameson from behind him and pour.

“Oh, and Amber’s only here for another week, if you want a chance with her. She’s a bit uptight, so you’ll have to make the first move.” Ivy points at me, in case any people in the immediate vicinity couldn’t figure out that I’m Amber on their own.

The drunken patrons around us start spouting all kinds of encouragement. A dimpled grin fills River’s face as he waves their words off with a dismissive hand.

“Why would you do that to me?” I push through barely moving lips, trying to keep my face expressionless as my cheeks burn.

The blond waitress with the gap in her teeth and giant boobs swoops by then, leaving two shots and a wink at our table.

“That’s for being a snob in high school.” As Ivy picks her drink up, her chest lifts and she sighs, as if in some monumental gesture. “Now . . . to new beginnings.”

“You’re such a bitch,” I mumble. Lifting my shot, I clink her glass just hard enough to splash a little of it on her fingers. “To new beginnings.” I inhale a nervous, shaky breath as I finally dare glance over at River. To see that his eyes are locked on me. A thrill courses through my spine. “And to an interesting week in Ireland.”

THIRTEEN

River

“Just gave her back her wallet, did ya?”

Rowen elbows me in the ribs but I ignore him, pouring pints and watching Amber giggle at something her friend said. And pretend she doesn’t know I’m watching her. After five whiskeys, she’s doing such a piss-poor job of it, I want to walk over there and tease her.

And kiss her.

Whatever good intentions I may have had have poured down the drain along with the tap runoff.

“So? Is that why you’ve been wearing that dopey look all night?” Rowen pushes.

“What are ya going on about, now?” I give the bar area a quick scan. Everyone’s got their hands wrapped around a pint and the printer is staying quiet for the moment. Finally. I’ve been waiting for this break.

He leans in to ask, “What’s her friend like?”

“Borderline hostile.”

“Really . . .” Rowen’s face lights up and I roll my eyes.

Pouring myself a Guinness, and a couple of tall glasses of ice water, I announce, “Taking five,” and round the bar with my hands and my smile full. Amber jumps when I set the drinks down on the table.

“Drink these so your heads don’t split tomorrow.” Now that the first round of drunken fools have called it a night and staggered out of here, there are a few vacant stools around. I grab one nearby and drag it over. “Are you ladies enjoying yourselves tonight?”

They share a secret look that I don’t understand. Then again, most women baffle me.

“I am,” Amber says. “How about you, Ivy?”

“I’m having a great time, actually,” her friend admits with a furrowed brow, as if she’s surprised by that.

“How do you two know each other, anyway?” Both beautiful women in their own right, they but couldn’t look more opposite if they tried. Amber’s got that girl-next-door-who-bakes-cookies-in-high-heels look. Ivy looks like she could star in the next Kill Bill film.

“We actually just met today,” Amber says, winking at Ivy, who, after a short delay, responds with a smirk.

“Making friends everywhere you go, are ya?” I lift my pint to my mouth at the same time that someone bumps me from behind, sloshing my beer up my nose. “Fuck!” I wave off his apology—after all, I’m the arse who’s sitting in the middle of a throughway—and shift my stool closer to Amber.

“So, you said this is your family’s pub?” Amber asks, twirling her hair between her fingertips as she stares at me with those translucent eyes, unabashed. The liquor must be giving her some courage.

“It is. Going on two hundred years now.”

Both their mouths drop open.

I like that reaction, when I tell tourists. I’ve never been to America, but I’ve heard everything is new there, and one family owning the same pub for two hundred years is unheard of. With a smile, I move to take another sip, only to get bumped from behind again.

Another curse, another apology, another wipe across my face.

“Move out of the bleedin’ way!” Rowen bellows from somewhere behind. I respond with a middle finger.

“Here.” Amber makes an effort to shift her stool, but it’s already as close to the wall as possible.

I drag myself over until my stool is butted against hers, resting my foot on the rung and the inside of my leg against her backside. Bloody hell. Just a bit closer and my cock will be lying against her bare thigh.

I sigh as the cool, delicious beer slides down my throat, uninterrupted.

“Long night?” Amber asks.

“Yeah. And it’s not over yet. I’m just taking a quick break.” I check the far side, where a table of brazen Londoners holler and laugh, one of them ogling Nuala as she passes by with a tray. She warned me that they’d be a problem before the end of the night. There’s always at least one here, every Saturday. We have a doorman for that reason, but sometimes Rowen and I end up giving someone a forceful hand out.

For now, though, I want to find out as much as I can about the American girl looking for a torrid affair. “So tell me, what brings both of you to my country?”

“Your country?” Amber mocks.

I grin. “My country.”

“Well . . .” She rests her chin on her palm. “I’m actually on this big trip around the world. I just finished traveling across Canada, and Ireland is my first stop on this side of the ocean. I’m going to England and then Spain, France, Italy . . .” Her eyes search the ceiling as she recites all the countries I saw on the list now safely tucked into my wallet.

“Don’t forget Greece,” I add, struggling to keep my face deadpan.

She snaps her fingers. “Yes! Of course, Greece and—” She cuts off and her eyes narrow as they dart to me.

Naked on a beach. Oh yeah. I remember. I hide my smile behind a sip of my pint as her cheeks burn, waiting for her to ask about it. “That’s a lot of traveling.” And a shit ton of money. The girl must be rich. She certainly carries herself like she is.

“That’s two years of cleaning vomit and sticking thermometers up rectums,” Amber says, as if reading my mind.