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Stopping and looking at me, she laughed. “Yes! I’ve been having so much fun I didn’t even realize it was so late. Dinner sounds amazing. What did you have in mind?”
“How about we go to my uncle’s place? He owns a beer joint with some of the best food in Boston.”
Giggling, Harmony said, “Sounds like we found our place for dinner. I can’t wait to see it.”
Laughing, I remembered Harmony’s comment about Irish guys. “Oh, I can’t wait for them to see you.”
Grabbing her hand, I called for a taxi. Taking a quick look at her Yankees gear, I cursed myself for not being able to get it off her by lunchtime. I’d tried a few times to get her to buy another shirt. I even bet her once or twice on something and if I won, she had to change. Nothing had worked. I silently said a prayer everyone would take it easy on my girl.
Glancing at Harmony, I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “John’s Place on Broad Street.”
Chapter 11
Irishmen and the Yankees
Harmony
The taxi drove to the financial district as Preston and the taxi driver talked about baseball. Rolling my eyes, I let out a sigh. I never understood why everyone was so crazy about the Red Sox. I think that was the main reason I became a Yankees fan. Because Jake drove me mad with all the Red Sox shit.
The taxi pulled up and parked as Preston paid him and grabbed the two shopping bags. Reaching his hand into the cab, he helped me out.
I wondered if Preston was always such a gentleman, or was it just that he was trying to give me a nice day? My eyes traveled down his well-toned body. Twenty-three. He sure seemed mature for being just twenty-three. Licking my lips, I wondered how good a kisser he was.
Oh, holy hell. I needed to stop this and stop it now.
Taking a few steps down the street, Preston turned and said, “We’re here.”
Glancing to my right, I saw an Irish pub and that was it. “Where is it?”
Pointing to the pub, Preston smiled bigger.
Oh, holy hell. Was Ward an Irish name? One more look at the door caused me to let out a gasp. I was in for a serious shit storm.
Walking closer to the door, I read the sign out loud. “Red Sox fans only.” I jerked my head back to Preston, who threw his head back and laughed.
“Ah hell, this should be interesting. Come on, Harmony, this Irish boy wants to introduce you to some friends.”
No. No. No. No. Grabbing his arm, I glared at Preston with what I was hoping was a horrified look on my face. “Preston! I’m wearing Yankees stuff.”
Tapping my nose with his finger, he chuckled as he said, “I think you’re just pretty enough for them to let it slide.”
My mouth dropped open as Preston pulled the door open. Standing my ground, I refused to move. One quick push by Preston and I was stumbling into the pub. Everyone turned and looked at me. Smiles instantly turned to frowns.
Oh shit. Please let me be pretty enough. Please, dear God, let me be pretty enough.
There was a tall man standing behind the bar. His blue eyes pierced mine and I immediately saw the resemblance to Preston. “Preston, what have you brought us this evening? I’m guessing she didn’t see the sign on the door.”
I could see the papers now. YOUNG GIRL THROWN OUT OF PUB FOR WEARING YANKEES SHIRT AND CAP. The Irish are supposed to be friendly. Aren’t they?
Grabbing Preston’s arm, I pulled him down to me. “Ward is not Irish.”
Laughing, he said, “No, it’s not. It’s British. This is my mother’s brother. Last name is Flanagan. Actually, their parents changed it to F
lanagan when they came to America. It was originally O’Flannagain.”
Shaking my head and letting out a faint whimper, I said, “Oh Lord. I’m never going to forgive you for this, Preston.”
Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulled me closer to him and whispered, “Harmony Banks, by eight o’clock this evening, I promise I will have converted you to a Sox fan.”
