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“I like your smile.”
I hadn’t realized my lips had gathered into a grin. When my eyes landed on Adam, however, he was already looking away from me and down the brick path that led from the garden to the street.
“This place hasn’t been open long, and it’s one of the best kept secrets in Dublin.” He crossed the street, where cars drove down the opposite lanes as in America. I’d almost forgotten about that until I’d gotten inside a cab yesterday at the airport.
I followed after him, noting the number of motorbikes. There were a lot more than in the U.S., and they weren’t like the big Harleys at the small biker bar that lurked on the outskirts of my town. No, these almost looked like upgraded bicycles. They were compact and colorful—milky blue, bright red, blazing orange. I wanted one the more I thought about it.
I jaywalked like Adam, fanning away a puff of smoke as a bus zoomed past in front of me.
Adam stood in front of a set of steps, his hands clasped, his eyes on me. On each side of the door were two black statues of Dobermans. There was no sign and no name on the door. Was Adam playing a joke on me? Was this someone’s house?
“Come on.” He touched my back, and the gesture should have felt odd—too intimate for someone I had just met—but it didn’t. I put my trust in him and allowed him to lead the way.
“This was a hotel before it was renovated and converted to an exclusive member’s club.”
“Oh. Do you have a membership?” The hall was dark as we entered, and I still saw no signs of life. Maybe I was out of my mind for trusting this guy—maybe his name wasn’t even really Adam. What if Leslie really had been a woman and he killed her . . . and now I was next?
My skin started to crawl, and I began to rehearse my defense. Knee to groin, scream, run away. I had taken a few self-defense classes this summer. Would that be enough?
“It’s open to the public now,” he said as he opened one more door. I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of people. Normal-looking people, instead of a cult of serial killers.
Calm the hell down.
But when I scoped out the crowd of people gathered in the room, which had a wall with shelves upon glass shelves of multicolored alcohol bottles on it—I had to wonder why we were at a bar at ten in the morning.
“Do they serve food here? Or do y’all drink beer for breakfast?”
A low rumble sounded from his lips as we made our way to one of the only empty tables near the back of the large room.
“We do eat—we’re not all a bunch of drunks like your American movies make us out to be.”
“Oh. I’m sorry—”
“Just kidding, love.” He smirked. “But we really do have leprechauns,” he said, exaggerating his accent, and then gave me a wink.
I laughed this time.
“Have a seat.” Adam pulled out a chair, and I nodded my thanks for the gesture as I sat down.
“What do you recommend?”
“There’s only one option—they’ll just bring it to the table.”
“Oh. How interesting.” I clasped my hands on the brown walnut table and glanced around. The high ceilings were decorated with strands of what looked like twinkling green Christmas lights, all weaved between the beams. The long bar spanned across the one side of the room and two dozen tables crammed together opposite of it, maximizing every bit of available space.
“So, what makes this place so special?”
“No tourists.”
My cheeks burned, and I chewed at my lip, worried about how I’d keep up with him through the course of breakfast.
He tapped his fingers on the table and looked up as a woman approached. She had large green eyes and flowy red hair—the quintessential Irish lass. Or was that Scottish? I wish I’d had more time to research before I’d come here, but everything had happened so fast. The waitress directed her attention at Adam and propped her hands to her hips. “A sight for sore eyes. Where have you been these days?”
“Been busy, as always.” Adam leaned back in his seat and pointed to me. “Elise, this is Anna. She just got in from the U.S.”
The woman slapped her hand on my back and nodded my way. “You just got here and you already landed yourself a man like Adam?” Elise smiled and nudged me in the shoulder. “He’s a keeper.”
Why did I feel like she was trying to convince me to date him? I wasn’t here to fall in love. Or even have a fling. Hell no.
