Page 30 of An Irish Hope

“Ah, don’t be like that now. You’ll be thanking me, I know it.”

“Bye.”

Grady laughed as he took his seat by the window, but it wasn’t long before Andy saw him talking with a woman. Seriously, the dude was impossible.

And his suggestion? No. Andy could count on one hand the number of women he’d kissed. And sure he might’ve kissed one of those women hundreds of times, but it didn’t mean he was someone to meekly follow his friend’s dumb suggestions. And he definitely wasn’t about to start following in Grady’s footsteps and live like a playboy from the 1960s and kiss every woman in sight. That wasn’t his scene.

Although Grady had been right about Aisling noticing them. Noticing Andy, he hoped—

But no. That was exactly why everything about him staying at the Castle Griffin Hotel was a bad idea. He couldn’t afford to get carried away.

He drove through Killarney, stopped at the Ross Castle and took a photo. He’d seen a few castles in his time—growing up in Ireland meant they were nothing new. But this one was prettier than some. Of course, it was nothing compared to the one nearest where he lived, with its famous stone people came from all around the world to kiss.

There was that word again! He braked suddenly, as a family of ducks waddled across the road in front of him. Clearly it was a good thing that Grady had left, because he was getting into his head too much. He would not think about kissing. He would especially not think about kissing a woman the likes of Aisling Fairall.

Why? Because despite what Grady might think, Andy wasn’t convinced that she liked him. Plus she lived with her family in a castle that her family owned. Hello? He lived in his family’s granny flat. He and Aisling might both be Christians, and care about their families, but apart from that they had little in common.

“Lord, you know that the woman I’m meant to be with has to love sports like I do. At least enjoying exercise would be a plus.”

And on top of all that, he wasn’t that kind of guy who could just kiss a girl and move on. It wasn’t part of his genetic makeup. He’d always been more serious than that.

The ducks finally moved on, and he headed along the drive that took in the scenic way over the mountains. Ladies View was a famous spot named after Queen Victoria’s ladies-in-waiting, or so the guidebook at the resort had said. He stopped, but it was very busy, packed with tourists, so it took some time before he had a clear enough shot of the lakes and mountains. This certainly was a pretty part of Ireland.

The road back to the resort wended through the pretty village of Kenmare, where he stopped for a pint before making his way back to the resort. Should he stay? It felt like a waste of money. But his room was already paid for, so the waste of money might be not taking the Fairalls up on their offer to use his credit.

Which meant he’d go back and use these next few days, and pray that God would give him the courage and strength to avoid temptation. And that He would lead Andy into the future God had planned for him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Why was it that working off the foods one enjoyed was a thousand times harder than what it took to eat it in the first place?

After a brief but thorough workout using the weight machines, she’d moved to the rowing machine. And sure, ten minutes on that mightn’t seem long, but for a girl who was starting out in the fitness world she had to make it manageable. There was no point going so hard that her body protested so much it convinced her to give up. She’d gone down that road before. And yes, already her muscles were protesting being forced to work, her abs screeching that they really didn’t like being used, thank you very much. But apparently exercise was good for her, so she’d beat these muscles into submission, one way or the other.

Rain pattered against the gym’s window, the clear skies of the weekend feeling far away. She moved to the exercise bike, tempted to check her phone once again. But already in the past three days of attending the gym she’d discovered that being hunched over on her phone was not exactly conducive to staying focused on the job. Which basically had been her problem. She was far too prone to thinking a million different things but not following through on any. Did that mean she had ADHD?

But it was like her mind couldn’t help it, filled as it was with rabbit trails that wove and twisted, one idea sparking another that often led her far away from her original intention. So the fact she’d actually made a decision—train at the gym for half an hour each day—and stuck to it for the past three days felt like a huge win. Of course, she wasn’t doing this at the same time each day, more like fitting it around her other duties. But she was doing it. Even if she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was doing some of these exercises completely correctly.

Still, it was good to have a new focus. To prove that she wasn’t as wishy-washy as some people—like Aunty Aine—seemed to think. How could Aunty Aine think that Aisling wouldn’t make a good teacher? And while teaching hadn’t ever felt like a calling since she was young, Aunty Aine’s words had goaded her, daring Aisling to prove her wrong.

She pumped up the resistance level a little more. People had always been quick to judge her, to write her off as silly just because she didn’t have Fiona or Colin’s steely focus, or had sometimes let her emotions get the better of her. Okay, well that last one she probably had let her emotions get the upper hand a little too often but it didn’t mean she couldn’t exhibit self-control. “Look at all the self-control you’ve been doing this week! You’ve barely eaten any chocolate.”

And boy, hadn’t she noticed. And others had noticed too. Chocolate seemed to have a sedative effect, making her a nicer person than who she was right now. Still, one couldn’t get fit by constantly stuffing her face with bad foods and hope to lose that bit of softness around her middle that hadn’t been there a couple of years ago.

She sucked down some water, her legs screaming at her to stop. But no, she’d keep going, even if it killed her.

Speaking of being killed, where had Andy been? She’d barely seen him since Monday at breakfast. It was like he’d dropped off the planet, even though he hadn’t checked out, and his room was booked until Sunday. She’d checked. Maybe he’d just perfected the art of disappearing when she was around.

She pressed her lips together. Did he really dislike her that much? Was it her looks or her personality that had turned him off? Because she could’ve sworn that he liked her on Sunday. Why else would he have said yes to lunch with her and her family? So what had happened to change his mind? Was it his friend? Something else? Or had she just naturally managed to get things wrong and turn him off all by herself?

She sucked in more water, cranked up the resistance a little more. By now her legs were like jelly. And given that this wasn’t her normal, maybe she should ease back a little.

She slowed down the machine, her head a little woozy. Oh. This wasn’t good.

She glanced around the gym but it was empty, as was usual at this time of day. She reached for her phone. Missed it. Tried again. Missed once more. The next minute she was sliding from the seat, her muscles like water, unable to support her, as she scraped her leg along the apparatus. “Ow!”

The next moment the room got blurry, then she was seeing stars, before blackness swallowed her entirely.

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