Page 10 of An Irish Hope

Amen.

* * *

O’Shea’s was like many pubs Andy had been to, a traditional pub the locals gathered at and not one focused on tourists. There wasn’t a shamrock or little leprechaun to be seen, although the black stuff was still the drink of choice.

He nursed a Guinness at a wood-panelled booth as Grady flirted with some American girls at the bar. He bet that any second now Grady would wink and bring them over here, and the first test of his new resolution would begin.

But he could do this. He could—would—still be friendly, just not so friendly one might think he was flirting. Besides, there was no point encouraging a woman when she lived overseas. That was a recipe for heartache.

Another sip and swallow later and, sure enough, Grady winked. Andy sighed. Here went nothing, then.

“Hey, Andy, meet Brandy.” Grady winked.

Seriously? That was her name? “Hi, I’m—”

“Andy, I know.” She giggled.

Oh, right. Grady had just said that.

“And this is Meghan.”

“Hey, Andy. Nice to meet you.”

Andy nodded. “Where are you visiting from?”

“How did you know we’re tourists?”

Saying, I recognise that twang from movies didn’t seem polite. And while he was only a mere man, he knew that Grady seemed to have a superpower to find available women he could practice his schmooze on, or so Beth, Andy’s eldest sister, had always liked to say. Saying that didn’t sound like it would fly too well, either.

So he shrugged. “You looked like you’re not from around here,” he said lamely.

They were both blonde, tanned, with the kind of eyelashes that made him think of caterpillars crawling over one’s eyes. Most women around here went for a more natural look, although Greta had been a fan of those kind of furry eyelashes too. It had always made him wonder: how did women see through those things?

“Are you a local?” Brandy or Meghan—he couldn’t tell the difference—said, eyelashes fluttering.

He had to be careful, otherwise he’d stare too long and wonder whether her eyelashes ever got tangled up so she couldn’t see. “Local enough,” he admitted. Like from this country, at least.

He sipped his drink, his gaze moving back to the corner where a band had set up. Grady had asked at the bar but it looked like karaoke was still thirty minutes away, which meant he’d been sitting here for an hour already, even if he had enjoyed a great steak at Grady’s expense.

The two women seemed to sense his disinterest, pecking Grady with questions like they knew Andy wasn’t available. And while it was good they got the message, it still felt a little impolite, something Grady mentioned when the two went to the jacks together to “powder their nose”.

“What’s wrong with you?” Grady bumped his arm, sloshing his drink. “I get two hot women to come sit with us and you barely look at them.”

“We both know you got them more for your own amusement than mine.”

Grady shook his head. “You’re still pining?”

“No. But I don’t need two women I will never see again to get me back into dating again.” Was now the time to tell Grady about his resolution? It wasn’t like he’d get a better chance. “Look, I’m not like you—”

“For sure and for certain,” Grady mocked.

“I don’t want a fling. I actually don’t want to have to worry about dating for the next little while, if that’s okay with you.”

“Hey, I’m only trying to be a good friend.”

“I appreciate that. But I don’t want to feel like you were pushing me for something I’m not ready for just yet.”

“It’s been over a year now.”