Chapter 15

15

PATRICK

I pull in the driveway of the cottage and dash inside. I need to feed the sheep and shower before heading over to Slea Head Brewery. It’s brew day for our autumn batches. On Friday, Sean prepared the malt and Cormac cleaned the fermenter. He did a great job with the last batch of Golden Amber, so I didn’t even check his work this time. I’d like to start giving him more responsibility. He’s up for it, I think.

But thoughts of the brewery flit in and out around flashbacks to last night—and this morning—with Maddie. At the pub. On her couch. In her bed.

My head has not been on straight since that woman arrived in town.

Christ, leaving her this morning was the last thing I wanted to do. She was standing in the kitchen wearing pajama pants, a fresh tank top, and her adorable glasses, almost making her sexier than when she’s in one of those sundresses or even wearing nothing at all.

I wanted to grab her and kiss her as I left, but once the sun came up, our just one time was over. A stab of regret slices through me at the deal. But it has to be over. That’s what we agreed to.

I swing by the kitchen before striding out the sliding glass door to the backyard. Kitty is waiting for me right outside the house and baas loudly.

“Hey there, girl. Where’s your brother?” I pet her rough head and she nudges into my other hand, where I have a handful of oats. I open my palm and she laps them up eagerly. When she’s done, I walk through the backyard (also sheep pasture) to the small barn that I built last year after getting suckered into adopting these two giant cotton balls. It’s also where I do the sawing and messier work for my furniture.

I need to find time to get back at the furniture. There’s something about making big, heavy wooden pieces that is soothing to my soul. Not like the flimsy bookshelves and coffee tables you find at the big discount stores. I like the idea of something I create being unbreakable.

I quickly toss an armful of hay in the corner of the shelter and wait for Turtle to round the corner and acknowledge my presence. Rolling green hills crest and fall beyond my property and my eyes roam them.

There’s a dark worm of negativity squirming in my gut. I see it. I feel it. But it’s not regret. It’s something else more dangerous.

I told her I liked her.

She might not have even heard it. But I said it. Worse, it feels like a lot more than liking her, and that’s where the peril lies.

When we’re together, there’s something about the unrelenting way Maddie is simply with me.

Cara broke me, even though I know it’s my fault, that I’m the one who did it by shutting her out and not communicating well and always saying the wrong damn thing, until she had enough and sought what she needed elsewhere. The hope that I’d be able to have the kind of marriage that my parents do—the commitment, resilience, everlasting love—disintegrated.

When Cara showed up last night, Maddie knew what I needed. She saw me going down that dark path. She came after me with a flamethrower to melt my icy walls. Those warm lips brought me back. And later, as I talked to other people at the pub, I could feel her, an electric wire connecting us even when we weren’t looking at each other. That’s why I drank so much, let myself go a little.

The way Maddie has slipped through to me is confusing.

It can’t happen though. She’s leaving. She’s my best friend’s fiancée’s little sister. I’d mess it up anyway.

I feel naked. Vulnerable. Like now that Maddie’s gotten through, I won’t be able to push her out again, not until I ruin it, which is inevitable.

Turtle approaches and nudges my hand. I reach in my pocket for the cup of oats, pouring them into my palm and letting his rough, warm sheep lips scoop up the treat.

I scratch underneath his jaw, and he watches me and chews. Last year, I ended up with two sheep as pets, instead of a dog or a cat like a normal person. I’d gone with Saoirse and the girls to a farm visit, and when they heard that some of the sheep would be going to slaughter (who tells kids that? I left a terrible review for that place), those girls looked at me and absolutely begged. Saoirse laughed, thinking there was no way I’d agree, but I nodded and asked the farmer if I could buy a pair of sheep off him.

So here we are. My backyard is a sheep pasture. I have pet sheep.

Twenty minutes later, I’m showered and on my way out the door to meet Sean and Cormac.

I’m still in my driveway when I get a text.

Cormac

Almost here?

Me

Be there in ten. All okay?

Cormac

Sean says you were supposed to heat the water yesterday?

Oh, feck. That was what I forgot to do yesterday afternoon.

Me

On my way

I’d planned to go to the brewery to do paperwork and turn on the heater in preparation for today, but instead I did some work at home, distracted by the new plan to see Maddie at O’Brien’s. How could I forget to do that one task? Damn. That means today can’t be a brew day.

A few minutes later, I walk into the brewing room and face Sean, who’s standing with his arms crossed and jaw clenched.

“Morning.” I try to sound casual and confident, but we all know what happened.

They both stare at me, Cormac with wide eyes, Sean with his lips pressed in a thin line.

“I thought you were supposed to turn on the heating systems yesterday?” Sean throws his hands in the air. “We did all the other prep on Friday.”

“I know. It slipped my mind.” This is my fault, I realize, but I hate how aggressive Sean is toward me.

“How could it possibly slip your mind?” Sean glares at me with narrowed eyes.

I glare back. He’s never been supportive of me taking over the brewery. He’s been waiting for me to mess up. As close as he was to my father, he’s had no interest in my plans for innovation and the evolution of the brewery. We’ve both been around Slea Head since the beginning. Both of us want it to succeed. I don’t know what his problem is.

“We’ll have to delay the brew till tomorrow.” Cormac’s voice is steady, but I can sense a hint of annoyance, probably at having been dragged out of bed on a Sunday morning for no reason.

Sean growls at me. “This brewery only works if we all do the jobs we’re supposed to.”

I clench my jaw and stop myself from snapping back. Because, in reality, he’s absolutely right. I told them I’d do it. And I didn’t. I messed up. Bollocks.

Slea Head is behind breweries like New Dingle because Dad wasn’t interested in product innovation. He doesn’t disapprove of what I’m doing now, but he never wanted to change things. Sean has the same mindset. But I need to innovate if the brewery is going to survive. Saoirse agrees, although she’s never been keen on running the brewery.

The interview I’d had with the product innovation candidate had gone really well, and I offered Lola the job later that same day. She’s extroverted and friendly and I actually think her and Maddie would get along great.

Not that it matters.

Lola starts this Wednesday. I need to get a work plan together for her in the next two days so she can show up and make a difference right away. She’s just in time—the Wellington Pubs meeting is a week from Tuesday, and I need to finalize my pitch and slide deck. I’d like to be able to tell them we have an IPA and an autumn brew that’ll be ready soon.

It’s finally coming together. And now I’m screwing it up because I’m distracted by Maddie Hart.

But this isn’t a disastrous screwup. It’s a one-day delay.

I have to keep more on top of things from now on. Getting trollied at the pub last night didn’t help. And I should’ve gone right from Mam and Dad’s house to the brewery yesterday afternoon.

“What’s the look on your face?” Sean says sharply.

“We’ll shift the brewing day by one, like Cormac said.”

“We have a schedule. A plan. One that I don’t always like, but we should stick with it.” Sean runs his hand over a gray-and-white beard, making a grating scratching sound. “Brewing is a science, not an art. The process should be followed exactly.”

I don’t respond, because I don’t agree. Brewing is an art, too. The different flavors and recipes we’ve been testing may not be Sean’s thing, but it’s what people want. I love testing and learning and adjusting until we get it perfect. Golden Amber, Devil’s Dark, and Slea Head Stout are the foundation of our brewery. But there’s so much room to grow.

Sean still thinks I’m the same five-year-old kid he met over three decades ago. It’s hard for him to accept I’m almost forty and now his boss.

“Sorry to make you both come out. Let me get the heating system turned on?—”

“I already did,” Sean says.

“Thank you. Go on home, then. I’ll double check everything—” My mobile buzzes in my pocket and I fish it out under their watchful eyes.

Maddie

I’m making you dinner tonight, all right, boss man?

I press my lips together, the pleasant surge in my center at the idea of seeing Maddie tonight smoothing over the discomfort from screwing up at the brewery.

Cormac clears his throat, and I pocket my mobile.

“What was I saying?”

“That you’ll double check everything...” Cormac offers helpfully.

“Right. Exactly.”

Sean huffs, but I lift a hand before he can say anything.

“See you in the morning.” I turn and head to the tiny brewery office, happy to get away from Sean. I swear I hear him mutter something like eejit , but I ignore him and close the office door, settling into the chair to craft a response to Maddie. The three little dots dance around in our text chain.

Me

Don’t call me boss man

Maddie

Why not?

Me

Because it makes me feel like we shouldn’t have done what we did this morning

A pause, and the three dots disappear. Uh-oh. Are we not supposed to talk about it? Should I have pretended it didn’t happen? But there’s no way I could pretend such a thing.

Maddie

Regrets?

Me

No

Maddie

Are you sure?

She’s doubting herself. There’s not a bit of regret in me for what we did last night, but as usual, I’m saying the wrong thing.

Me

Positive. I promise

Maddie

Glad we got it out of our system

Right. Just one time. We’ll keep it professional from now on. No more getting drunk and showing up at the flat uninvited.

Maddie

Be here at six. Bring beer. And get ready to brainstorm ideas for the road trip. I need your brilliant Irish brain to help me

What about showing up at her flat, invited, not drunk, but with beer? Is that keeping it professional?

Probably not.

I should say no. No more screwups at work. No more distractions.

But last night felt different. Different from every one-night stand I’ve had. Different from the local woman I dated. Even different from Cara.

Maddie makes me feel good. Like I shouldn’t be ashamed about who I am. Not like I’m saying the wrong thing all the time. Not like she’s waiting for me to screw things up.

I’ve not let myself entertain the thought of being with a woman for real in years. But what if I let myself go with Maddie, just a little bit? It would be a test run. She’s leaving anyway, so there’s no hope for a real future. It’ll be only a slight detour from my one-night stand philosophy.

Since she’s already here, I can try it out. Since we’re already friends, it’ll feel easy and natural.

But it feels dangerous for my heart.

I head into the brew room, double checking the temperature on the fermenter. It’s correct, not that I ever doubted Sean would do it right. He’s good at what he does.

I want to smile around Maddie. I want to listen to her tell me stories about her life and her family and...

The malt is ready for tomorrow, weighed and milled in preparation for brewing. I dig my hand into the container and let the pieces fall through my fingers. The grind is perfect, a combination of big chunks of husk and smaller ones.

I like to hear about her life because we’re friends.

But I also know I’m the tiniest bit smitten.

If I’m going to spend time with her, I need to keep my shit together at the brewery and the pub.

And whatever I do, I need to protect myself from the inevitable end. Maddie will leave Dingle, I’ll see her for the road trip and the wedding, and that’ll be it.

I can’t let myself forget that.