“It probably had more to do with my whisky intake, not the food itself.” I try to save the conversation.
“Could be,” he says, coming over to Effie and kissing her cheek. “Shortbread is in the kitchen, Nan.”
“Oh, you’re leaving so soon?” she says, glancing over at me and then back at her grandson.
“I’ll be back later to work on the sink,” he tells her without another word.
As soon as I hear the click of the back door, I turn to Effie. “I just said his food made me sick,” I say, sliding my hands down my face and taking a seat at the dining room table. “Nothing on this trip is going right. Maybe I should just fly back.”
“No. You can’t leave, you only just got here. You haven’t even gotten to experience everything we have to offer.”
I wonder why she cares so much, the room is paid for no matter what.
“I don’t know, Effie,” I groan, and she places a gentle hand on my back.
“At least give it till the weekend.”
I sigh and give her a nod. Birdie would be devastated if I left. These past two days have been tough, and I’m one more inconvenience away from not being able to function.
“Alright, I’ll at least give it till the weekend,” I tell her and she smiles at me sweetly.
I get up from the table and go to phase two of my apology tour. Next stop, and the main source of my humiliation, iswith an absolutely gorgeous ginger-haired man who carried me home.
My mom always told me to not show up empty-handed, so I grab a coffee and scone from Craic Cafe, before heading to Greer’s.
Part of me hopes he isn’t working, while the other just wants to get this over with. Most of all, I hope I don’t run into Effie’s grandson again.
I steel myself, open the door, and head to the bar.
There’s a pretty Beta woman with long red hair behind the bar. She greets me with a smile.
“Ah, the damsel,” she says, and I’m really wondering when the hole in the floor is going to open me up and suck me into its depths.
“Is Greer here?” I ask.
“Greer!” she shouts loudly.
“The fuck you shouting for, Sorcha?” He walks through the kitchen door, behind the bar. “Maisie,” he says, his voice softer.
“Do you have a moment?”
“Aye. I’ll be right back, Sorcha,” he says to the woman, who smirks.
Greer follows me to an empty table by the window, and we both sit. I slide over the coffee and scone.
“What’s this?”
“The coffee is an apology, and the scone is a thank you. I came to apologize for my behavior last night and to thank you for making sure I got back to my room safely,” I say, glancing up at him.
God, he’s handsome.
His ancestors probably fought in the Nine Years War with the size of him. Alpha genetics passed down from generations to make this fine specimen before me.
I shake my head.What the fuck, Maisie?
Greer grabs the coffee and takes a sip.
“Everyone’s had a drunken night they wish they could take back. Nothing to apologize for, I was just being decent.”
