Chapter Six

Norah

My alarm rouses me from a delightful dream I'm having about walking around Temple Bar with Eamon. The thought makes those pesky butterflies come to life. Groaning, I roll over and shut off the offending alarm and check my phone. There are four missed calls and a ridiculous amount of text messages. All from my friends. Groaning again, I open up my inbox.

Layla: Whose SUV is that??? Do you have someone in there with you??

The next message is a group text with all of the girls. Oh lord, here we go.

Layla: Norie, please tell us whose black SUV is in your driveway!

Amelia: WHAT?! NORIE, WHAT IS GOING ON?!

Charlie: WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT?!

Myra: OMG! NO WAY! I NEEEEEEEED DETAILS!!

With bleary eyes, I text the group.

Norah: Calm down. There's not a man in my house. I'm here alone. Someone let me borrow it last night so I didn't have to walk home by myself.

Amelia: WHO??????

Charlie: WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME?!

Myra: WHERE WERE YOU?!

A separate message from Layla pops up.

Layla: I'm coming over!

Sometimes having a best friend for a neighbor is annoying. I roll out of bed and head towards the bathroom. Layla will be here in about two seconds. Sure enough, just as I finish brushing my teeth, I hear the front door open. I regret giving out copies of my house keys to all of the girls now.

"Good morning," I call from the bathroom. "Start the coffee pot, will ya?"

"Psh. You think you can just order me around before telling me who owns that SUV?" Layla has the audacity to sound offended.

"Yes. Yes, I do. You won't get anything from me until coffee hits my veins."

They all know that I don't function without coffee. I will never turn down a cup, no matter what time of day it is. I shuffle to the kitchen to find Layla sitting at the island with an expectant look on her face, fingers tapping on the bar.

"Can I help you?" I ask, brow raised.

"You're damn right you can, chica. Start talking."

Rolling my eyes, I tell her, "You're so pushy. Can't I just explain it to all of you at once? I really don't want to repeat it a million different times."

"Fine. Get your laptop. We're going to Face Time them all," she replies.

Damn it.

Ten minutes later, miraculously, all of them are available. With the screen split into four different sections, I can see that Myra is still in bed, Amelia is driving, and Charlie is applying her makeup in the bathroom.

"Good morning, Norie!" Charlie chirps. She's an early riser and almost always cheerful.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Myra grumbles from under a pink comforter. "Good morning and all that. Now spill! "

"Sheesh," I complain, taking a sip of my coffee. "You don't see me questioning all of you when a vehicle shows up in your driveway. Nosy Nancies."

"Yes, that's because it's not uncommon for us to have strange cars in our driveways! You don't even drive!" Amelia yells at me.

"Maybe if you all would just shut up, she'd actually tell us what happened," Layla barks.

I choke on a laugh. She's usually pretty mild-tempered, but when she's feeling spunky, it's very entertaining.

"Fine," I begin. "On Saturday, I went in to apologize to Pat for my despicable behavior . I jokingly told him I'd wash dishes to make up for it. He thought that sounded like a great idea and told me to be back at seven on Sunday. So I went, still expecting to not do dishes." I pause to take another drink of coffee. "I was very wrong. Apparently, he does Senior Night every other Sunday or something. He was slammed and immediately sent me back to the kitchen, but I wasn't the only one. Good old Pat took it upon himself to have Eamon Kennedy do dishes too."

There's a collective gasp at this point. Myra starts to say something, but I pointedly cut her off. Once she gets started, it's almost impossible to get her to stop.

"Before you start getting any ideas, there was nothing remotely romantic about it. At the end of the night, Pat asked Eamon to drive me home so I wouldn't be walking alone—I guess he lives close to Pat's as well. Anyway, I told him I wasn't comfortable riding in a car with someone I didn't know. Much to my surprise, he demanded that I take his car keys and he would walk."

"Aw!" they all coo at once. I roll my eyes.

"I tried to tell him no, but he wouldn't have it. He told me to drop the car off at Pat's today and call him when it was there. That's all. Nothing exciting."

"You're joking, right?" Amelia asks in disbelief, eyes darting back and forth between her phone and the road. "This is the epitome of exciting! He cares about your safety, trusts you with his car, and gives you his number! He wants you to call him!"

Myra adds from the cocoon of blankets, "Why not just call him over to your house? Thank him properly !"

I cringe. "Ugh. No. You're all wrong. He was just being nice. That's all."

"Whatever. You guys are totally going to hook up!" Myra sing-songs.

"I mean, it wouldn't really be a bad thing! He's super hot!" Charlie says while she coats her lashes in mascara.

Rolling my eyes yet again, I look at Layla. "Please talk some sense into these crazies."

"I don't know, Norie. It kind of sounds like he's interested," she says carefully, head tilted to the side as she observes me. "Guys, maybe Norah isn't interested in him," Layla finally says. "He may be hot, and he may be nice, but maybe—just maybe—Norah has no desire to be with him."

Well, let's not get carried away.

"If Eamon Kennedy doesn't stoke your fires, who does?" Amelia asks curiously. "Unless you're not into men anymore. Which is understandable."

I glare at her. "Did you really just ask me that? Do I really have to explain my hesitancy to get involved with someone?"

I'm on the verge of tears now. It's all too much. Yes, I'm physically attracted to Eamon, but given my past, I don't think that there's any way I'll ever be able to make a relationship with a man work. Those scars run too deeply.

"Okay, Norie. Take a deep breath," Charlie says softly, sensing my rising anxiety. "We all know why you haven't been in a relationship. We know it's hard for you, but we all just want to see you happy and to find someone that truly brings you joy. That's all. We love you."

They all murmur their agreement as I sniffle and wipe the corner of my eye. I know they have my best interests at heart, but I'm still terrified.

"Thanks, girls. I love you too. It's just overwhelming. I will freely admit that Eamon is very attractive and the fact that he's Irish doesn't hurt." I pause for a moment to breathe slowly before continuing, "But I just can't bring myself to consider a relationship with anyone, let alone him. That's if he's even interested, which isn't likely. "

"Stop that. You obviously don't know just how gorgeous you are," Layla says sternly. "Before you roll your eyes at me, hear me out. You're stunning! You have flawless skin, and your eyes sparkle when you talk about something you love, and you're a ginger. What's not to love? No, we can't all be like the other skinny bitches in the group—sorry, ladies, we still love you—but your curves are in all the right places . I don't want to hear that talk out of your mouth again."

I sniffle again, but a smile plays on my lips. "Now that I've been put in my place…"

They all laugh, and I reassure them that I'm okay. We chat for a few more minutes until I realize that I really need to head to class. I end our little conference and hug Layla goodbye before racing to my room to throw on some clean clothes. I'm going to be so late.

* * *

I pull into the same parking spot that I left from last night and sit there trying to convince myself to call Eamon. When was the last time I called a guy? Just as I'm about to dial his number, there's a knock on the driver's side window. I shriek, tossing my phone into the air. The man in question is standing there peering in at me with a wicked grin on his face. I glare at him, and he holds his hands up in surrender.

I open the door and climb out of his SUV. "Oh my god, Eamon, you scared the shit out of me!"

We're standing mere inches apart, and I have to tip my head back to look at him. The sun is behind him, encasing him in a soft morning glow. At certain angles, you can see hints of red in his dark hair and beard. And he smells so good.

"Sorry, love," he smirks. "I won't lie and say it wasn't funny, but I truly am sorry for scaring you. Thought I'd save you the trouble of deciding if you were actually going to call or not."

I take a deep breath in an attempt to steady my pounding heart. "I was going to call. That's what I was actually getting ready to do before you scared the daylights out of me."

His perfect mouth lifts on one side before he says, "Allow me to make it up to you? Let me buy you a coffee and breakfast this morning,"

My eyes widen in surprise.

"I have class at nine…" I say hesitantly.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time. "I don't think you'd make it even if you left right now, I'm sorry to say. When's your next class?"

He's got me there. If I'm being honest, I don't hate the idea of spending some one-on-one time with him.

"Not until one," I tell him. "I don't even really like my nine o'clock class."

"What is it?"

"History with Evans." I shudder. "I've put it off as long as possible. Now that I'm headed towards graduation, I figured I should probably take it."

Eamon chuckles. "I'll admit, Evans is truly awful, but the subject isn't so bad, is it?"

"Yes," I deadpan. "I hate history—at least in a classroom setting—it bores me to tears."

"Maybe you just need a tutor," he shrugs.

"Ha!" I laugh. "If you know of one, send them my way. Anything to help me get this class over with."

"As it happens," he says, "you've found one."

I look at him blankly.

"I'm a history major with a secondary degree in education," Eamon shares.

"Shut up. No, you're not."

A history teacher? He's going to be a history teacher, and for some reason, I suddenly find the subject far more interesting.

"Aye. I swear it on my life." He places a hand over his heart.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind, then," I say sheepishly.

I wouldn't learn a damn thing with him as my tutor, other than how perfect his face is.

"Do. But, in the meantime, how about that coffee?" He gestures towards the coffee shop across the street .

I take a deep breath and blow it out.

Am I accepting a coffee date, and possibly tutoring, from Eamon Kennedy? I go from ogling him from across the pub to now spending more time with him in forty-eight hours than I could have ever imagined. What universe am I living in?

"Okay," I agree, pushing my glasses up my nose. I was in such a rush this morning that I forgot my contacts.

He eyes me curiously. "Have you always worn glasses?"

I blush, because of course I do. "Yes and no. I've always needed them, but I only wear them when I plan on straining my eyes, like in History class. Or while working on a costume. Or reading." I prattle nervously as we walk towards the cafe.

"How do you even have time to read with your costumes and heavy drinking on the weekends?" he teases me. He holds the door open to the coffee shop and ushers me in.

I glare at him playfully. "Fair question. I've considered listening to audiobooks while I drink, but I'd probably end up challenging them to a drinking contest."

Eamon laughs as we approach the bar. Looking at me expectantly, he asks, "What will you have this morning?"

"You really don't have to get mine. Actually, I should be getting yours for letting me borrow your car," I reply quickly, but he's shaking his head.

"I don't think so. I was happy to do it, and I needed the exercise anyway," he says with a shrug.

I pointedly look him over from head to toe and scoff at him. "Right."

I turn back to the cafe employee patiently waiting for us to order. "I'll have a large coffee with room for cream, please."

"Is that all?" Eamon asks. "Anything to eat? Their scones are phenomenal. Especially the cranberry."

"Ooooh. I love cranberry scones. Okay. I'll have one since you insist."

I don't shy away from food, especially good scones. Life is too short to not enjoy delicious food.

Eamon orders a large black coffee and a scone for himself, then pays. While he's finding us a table, I take my cup over to the condiment bar and add some cream and sugar to my coffee, gauging the color carefully. Once I'm satisfied, I find him sitting at a table near the door and slide into the chair opposite him. I hold my coffee under my nose and inhale, smiling at the comforting scent.

"I take it you enjoy your coffee," he says, watching me closely.

"Very much so. It runs in my veins," I confess, taking a sip.

"It's a wonder you don't have Guinness running through those veins." He winks at me, and my heart stutters.

I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. "Ah, but now you know why I can handle my Guinness. I've built up a tolerance for all things dark and delicious."

Eamon's brows shoot up, and he shifts in his chair, clearing his throat roughly.

Oh. My. God. I can't believe I just said that. How mortifying! He's still staring at me with wide eyes.

"Uh, right," I say, quickly changing the subject. "So, how long have you been playing?"

"Playing football?" he asks like I've lost my mind.

"No, the guitar! You played wonderfully at open mic night. In fact, that was the only enjoyable sound coming from that stage." I shudder at the memory of the rest of the team singing loudly and off-key.

He laughs before saying, "Aye, they butchered it, didn't they? My Da was a musical genius; he could play anything. I grew up listening to him play and my Mam sing."

I smile, envisioning a young dark-haired boy sitting next to his father and learning to pluck a guitar while his Mom sings in the background.

"It sounds like you have a wonderful family. Do you miss them?" I ask.

Eamon's eyes shut, and he takes a deep breath. "My Da passed away when I was young. My ma is still alive. I miss her terribly."

My heart breaks. I know all too well the pain of losing a parent. "I'm sorry about your father. Losing a parent is crushing," I tell him. "When was the last time you visited home? "

He leans back in his chair and looks out the window of the coffee shop. "I haven't been back since I arrived in the States." The finality in his tone keeps me from asking about it again.

We talk for hours, mostly about our degrees and plans for after graduation. Eamon teasingly tells me that he hopes to teach high school and make history lessons enjoyable so the students don't turn out like me—I roll my eyes at him. We talk about the current costumes for the Beauty and The Beast production and how there are talks of a drag show replacing the spring play.

"That's amazing," Eamon says. "The LGBTQ community needs more spotlight."

Sexy and inclusive. Could he be any more perfect?

I smile warmly at him. "Agreed. I would be absolutely honored to design their costumes."

A buzzing sound wrenches me from the little bubble we've cocooned ourselves in. Reaching into my bag, I grab my phone.

"Oh no," I groan. "It's almost noon. I really need to get going."

I don't want to leave. I could sit here talking to Eamon all day. "Don't you have classes today?"

He shakes his head. "Not on Mondays or Wednesdays. I usually spend the mornings catching up on assignments before heading off to Paddy's."

"Ah, so he's a day drinker," I tease him.

"Hardly." He says the word with a scoff. "I'm a pretty handy carpenter, and Paddy won't tell you this, but he's shite with a hammer and nails. He hired me early on as his repair man. You'd be surprised at how often he breaks things."

I can't help but laugh at the picture he's painted of Pat. "He must be pretty clumsy if he can afford to keep you on."

Eamon nods. "That he is. But I also repair for a couple of other businesses in town. It's not constant work, what with school and soccer, but it pays the bills."

The bell above the coffee shop door chimes, and a voice calls out loudly, "Oi! Eamon! There you are! I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning!"

We both sit upright, having leaned closer to each other across the table at some point during our conversation.

Rowan saunters up to us and stops suddenly, smiling mischievously at us. I quickly gather my things and start to stand up.

"Don't leave on my account, lass. I didn't realize that Eam here was on a date," he says with a wink.

"No, it wasn't…" I start to say.

"Aye, I don't have to tell you where I'm going, Ro," Eamon snaps at his friend. "You're not my Mam."

"I really do need to go," I tell them. "Thank you again, Eamon. This was nice."

Eamon stands as I sling my bag over my shoulder. "It was a pleasure, Norah."

I give them both an awkward wave and head towards the door.

Eamon

I watch Norah from the window until I can't see her anymore. Then I turn to glare at Ro. Fecking eejit.

"What?" he asks stupidly. "Don't look at me that way! Maybe if you bothered to tell us that you and Ginger were an item…"

"Norah. Her name is Norah, and we're not an item. It was just coffee." I shrug.

Ro looks at me doubtfully. "Oh, so you won't mind if I ask her out, then? She is a pretty little thing, and that hair of hers means she'll be fun to…"

I instantly see red.

"Don't even think about it," I snarl.

Ro laughs and claps a hand on my shoulder. "No worries, mate. I'm thinking about asking Alicia out anyway. Think she'd mind going to Paddy's on her night off?"

I roll my eyes. "Only you would take a bartender to her place of employment on a date. That's if she'll even say yes."

"Ach! You know she will! Why do you think she always gets my drink and ignores you and Teag?" he brags, wagging his eyebrows.

"You're a louse, Ro," I tell him, shaking my head. "Anyway, I really should get to Paddy's. I'll tell Alicia to be on the lookout for you, mate."

"Don't you dare, Eamon Kennedy! You'll ruin the surprise!" Ro calls out as I walk towards the door.

* * *

I finally finish putting the shelves back up in Paddy's office and notice that I've been here for two hours already. How the old man managed to get his boxes of papers to stay on those cockeyed shelves is beyond me. It's a miracle this pub stays standing at all.

I put my tools back in the toolbox and walk out into the hall where Paddy is staring at a calendar on the wall, rubbing his forehead. "Alright there, Paddy?" I ask.

"Aye, lad. Just trying to fill in some gaps on the schedule. Not sure how I'm going to be in two places at once," he mutters.

"Anything I can help with? I can run some errands for you if that's what you need."

"If only it were that easy, my boy. I'd happily let you have my doctor's appointment if I could. Lord knows I'd much rather be at the pub," Paddy says with a laugh.

I'm automatically worried. "Doctor's appointment? Are you talking about a golfing appointment with your son or an actual appointment?"

"No." He chuckles. "I'm overdue for a checkup, is all. Nothing wrong. Just been putting it off long enough."

Relief fills me. I'm not sure I'd survive if anything happened to this old codger.

"Doesn't Alicia run the place while you're away?" I ask.

"Aye, but we're short-handed in the back. She can't tend the bar, do the cooking, and do the washing. Well, she probably could, but I'd never ask that of the lass. She'd have my hide!"

I think it over for a minute, an idea forming in my mind. It's not exactly selfless though. "I owe you another day of kitchen duty, don't I?"

Paddy turns to eye me skeptically. "Aye…"

"I suppose I could come in on that night and make the stew. Your customers do seem to prefer it, anyway," I say with a smirk. "And we could always see if fire sprite could come back for dish duty," I say nonchalantly like I'm not looking for an excuse to see Norah again.

Paddy grins and bursts out laughing. "Ach! Eamon, lad! You'll never be able to play poker. You know that, don't ya? But aye, it's a solid idea. I'll let you call Norah with the good news. Her number is in my office." He walks off, still chuckling to himself.

I'm not as sly as I think I am, apparently.