Chapter 9

9

MADDIE

Saturday, March 8

Boyfriend Disaster #3 : Vinny the Mama’s Boy

Job Location & Length : Kinnley’s Pizza, 1.5 years

My Age : 22

Vinny was the kind of Jersey guy who said he was Italian, but was Jersey Italian, not Italian Italian. He spent months dedicatedly making me laugh while he danced, twirled pizza dough in the air, and tossed individual pieces of shredded cheese into my mouth from across the kitchen. He talked about his mom all the time. He used too much gel in his dark hair.

But he was a truly nice guy, and eventually I said yes to his repeated attempts to get me to go out with him.

Vinny kissed me at the end of the first date and I knew immediately he and I were not a fit. There was nothing there. No zing, no passion, not even the smallest spark. I tried to tell him calmly, but he begged, cried, and then called his mom while I was still in his car.

Ending things with Vinny was extra painful because he really liked me, but I wasn’t into it. It was all about me that time.

I couldn’t face him. RIP job number three.

Breakup Reason : no spark

My Distress Level : 3, not because I was so into him, but because I wished I was

Lesson Learned : Don’t agree to go out with someone just because they’re nice.

I wake up in the flat absolutely boiling. This place is about a million degrees, and nothing I do to the thermostat changes how hot it gets. Last night I slept in my underwear and a tank, like the previous nights.

But as I lie on top of the soft duvet, staring at the ceiling, I think about who I could complain to.

Patrick.

It’d been one breathtaking view after another on the bike ride the other day, but my favorite part was when he let me snuggle into him. He wrapped his arms around me, protecting me from the wind. And the world.

He even made me laugh about Blue (Brian from Ohio). I hadn’t found any part of that relationship amusing until yesterday.

And that feeling when he rubbed my back? My cheek against his hard chest? I need to be careful.

My phone buzzes.

Patrick

I left something for you at the bottom of the stairs. I used my key to get in to the first door—I hope you don’t mind

My eyes widen. Sure, there was a second door between us, but my heart speeds up a bit to think Patrick had been only twenty feet away while I was sleeping in my underwear.

I jump up and walk to the entrance, cracking it open and sliding out to peer down the stairway, phone clutched in my hand. A dark shadow leans against the wall. I blink and let out a surprised huff when I realize what it is.

Me

A bike?

Patrick

Yes. For you to use while you’re here. And the helmet. Let me know if you can adjust it to fit better or we can grab you a new one

Me

Thank you

Patrick

No problem. I don’t want you hurting yourself on some shite rental bike before I can hire your replacement

I bite my bottom lip, then press my phone to my chest and grin.

No matter his protests, I think I’m growing on that man.

Patrick

Also, there’s a soccer game at the park if you’re interested in watching. We’re about to start. My sister’s here and suggested I invite you. She said something about you being sad and lonely, so...

Me

There’s no way your sweet sister said that about me. I’m a social butterfly, happy and outgoing, and I have thirty-six thousand friends. Never sad or lonely

Patrick

Sweet sister? Not sure who you’re talking about

Me

I’ll see if I can fit you in my schedule today. I’m very busy

He texts an eye roll emoji and I snort a laugh.

Patrick’s inviting me to watch him play soccer? I dart back into the flat and get dressed as fast as I can, sweating my ass off and choosing another dress before grabbing my new rain jacket on the way out. At the bottom of the stairs, I pause to touch the bike before sliding out the door of the flat to street level, a grin on my face.

Friends. I’m making friends. See? I’m already starting over here, even though it’s more like a practice run. I stride down Main Street and turn toward the park in the middle of town.

The players are all already on the field as I approach Saoirse, who is standing on the sideline. Her daughters are on a picnic blanket behind her, wrapped in warm jackets and winter hats, Niamh playing with a pair of Barbies, Erin staring down at her iPad and probably rubbish YouTube.

“Morning, Saoirse.” I slide next to her, adjusting my hood to block the lightly falling rain.

“Maddie, hey!” She turns to me with those hazel eyes, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail beneath a colorful winter hat. “Did my brother actually text you?”

I nod.

“I told him to. I’m shocked he listened. I would’ve, but I don’t have your number.”

“We can fix that.” I pull out my phone and text the number she gives me right away. The ref blows the whistle to start the game. I turn to watch.

Specifically, the smoking hot goalkeeper.

Patrick towers in front of the net. His thighs are thick in athletic shorts, and his biceps push against the sleeves of his tight, long-sleeved green jersey. He stands in the middle of the goal, arms hanging by his sides, padded goalkeeper gloves making him look like some kind of fighter. As I watch, he pulls the hem of his jersey up to wipe moisture from his eyes, revealing the bottom half of his chiseled abdomen—much more than I caught a glimpse of during his yawn the other day. The muscles in my lower belly clench and all my blood seems to rush between my legs. I reach in my hood and scratch my neck roughly to feel something somewhere else.

The rain falls harder. Saoirse pulls her hood over her winter hat. Her girls open an umbrella and huddle together.

I groan. “Does it always rain in Ireland?”

“Yes, it does. It’s cold enough to need a hat and gloves, but usually not enough to snow. Lovely, huh?” She glances back at her daughters. “We won’t last long. Probably just another few minutes.”

The men are already slipping all over the place, the ball slick on their feet. Water is dripping off Patrick’s face, and he shakes his head to clear the moisture as Liam dribbles up and takes a shot at goal. Patrick easily catches it and throws the ball three-quarters of the way down the field. Liam curses and chases the ball. He’s cute, too, and really would be a better choice for me to fawn over, not the man I’m renting a flat from, working for, and planning a road trip with.

Patrick turns toward us and raises a hand, not smiling, but keeping his eyes trained in our direction while the ball’s on the other half of the field. I wave back, although certainly he’s waving to his sister or his nieces.

Next to me, Saoirse huffs a laugh, and I turn to her watching me with her eyes crinkled at the corners.

“What?”

“It’s just that I haven’t seen my brother acknowledge another woman in public in a long time.”

“I’m sure he was waving to you.” My cheeks burn. And even if the wave was for me, we’re friends. I’m absolutely not thinking of that hot hallway kiss, the one that definitely doesn’t haunt my days and nights. Thankfully, there’s zero percent chance he told his sister about that incident.

“He already said hi to us.”

I look back on the field, where Patrick’s standing with crossed arms watching the game. Someone scores and his team celebrates, Patrick pumping his fist in the air once.

Again, he looks over to us. My chest squeezes.

“I heard you went on a bike ride?” Saoirse asks, more a statement than a question.

Shit, she’s still watching me, which means she’s observing me drooling over her brother. I force myself to look away from him.

“Yeah, I think he was worried I’d ride on the wrong side of the road or fall off a cliff.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes flit over my face.

“Hmm what?”

“Many women would be happy to throw themselves off a cliff if it’d get his attention. But he never gives it to them. At least not for more than one night.”

I get it. He’s not a relationship guy. He doesn’t date. It doesn’t matter to me, because that god on the soccer field over there? He’s not mine. He’ll never be mine. I can’t even hold the attention of some drifter who renamed himself Blue, or nine other dudes, so I definitely can’t snag Patrick McNulty.

“He’s a really good man.” Saoirse’s voice is soft. “My brother’s been hurt. He doesn’t think he’s capable of being in a relationship.”

Who would cheat on him?

“I’m sure he’ll find someone eventually.” It won’t be me. It can’t be me. I’m not even supposed to be here.

“It doesn’t help that my marriage fell apart, too, so he looks at it as another example that true love is unattainable. Except for our parents, of course.”

“He said that?”

She laughs. “No. He didn’t say that. But I know that’s what he feels.”

My heart grows two sizes in my chest. And it’s my heart I have to be careful with here. It would be way too easy to let myself fall for Patrick, the same way I’ve done so many times before. I swallow hard as I think of jobs number eight and nine. The most painful ones.

I need to make sure I don’t let that happen here.

Because apparently, I’m not a great judge of character. Or a person who makes good life decisions. I need someone to ground me, to keep me from losing sight of my goal.

I blink and keep my eyes trained on Patrick as he dives for the ball, easily capturing it in his gloved hands, mud and water spraying up as he slides. He reminds me of a wild lion in the African savanna, and we’re just a bunch of tourists in a Jeep, gaping.

This time—here in Dingle—it will be different. I know what’s going on. I understand who I am now. The mistakes I’ve made. I’ve learned so many lessons.

I know I’m going to quit O’Brien’s, sooner rather than later. I know I’m going to leave Dingle, Patrick, all these people I’ve just met. This time, I’ll get it right. I thought I was doing it right in Saint Lucia with Aunt Evelyn’s voice in my head, telling me to create a better life for myself. But Blue distracted me.

This time, I won’t forget what I’m here for.

For now, I might as well enjoy myself. My shoulders relax and I let out a deep breath.

Glad I got that all figured out.

Saoirse and the girls leave before halftime, her asking if I’ll stay for drinks with her and Ian after my afternoon shift ends tonight. I agree.

I should leave the chilly, wet game as well, but I don’t. And at the end, I’m the only person standing off to the side, under a tree fifty feet back from the field.

“Shit,” I whisper as the teams start filing off the field. I should’ve escaped when I had the chance, instead of being the only spectator left. I slip behind the thick tree trunk, pressing my back against the bark and praying no one sees me.

I’ll just hide till everyone’s gone. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?

Players walk past and I try to look casual and stare at my phone. I don’t see Patrick, but maybe he went another way. I’m about to dash off toward my flat when he rounds the tree.

“Madison Elizabeth Hart.” Patrick stops in front of me. “Are you hiding?”

My eyes widen and I swallow.

“No.”

He’s drenched, dripping wet from head to cleats, his dark hair flopping over his forehead, raindrops sitting on his eyelashes. His long-sleeved jersey clings to his chest.

I want to throw back the hood of the rain jacket I bought in town this week and kiss him in the pouring rain, the way it might happen in a movie.

“No?” He tilts his head and twists his mouth.

“Not hiding. Just... sheltering.” I peel myself off the tree and try to look casual, even though I’m clearly the most awkward human being in all of Ireland.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home. I parked in front of the pub.”

I nod and fall into step next to him, thankful he’s not calling me out further.

“I wasn’t coming to watch you, you know.” But apparently, I can’t keep my mouth shut.

“You weren’t?” He cocks his head and touches my arm as we cross the road along the park. “You must look right first, love, or you’ll get run over.”

“Thanks. And no, I came to see your sister.”

He snorts adorably. We step back onto the sidewalk in the direction of O’Brien’s, his hand sliding off my arm, the touch lingering.

“Pub tonight? Are you working? Drinking?” I bite my lip and turn to watch him consider.

“I’ve got the girls.”

Damn .

“Have any fun plans with them?” My disappointment is immense, but I picture Patrick picking up Niamh and spinning her around, and that makes me smile.

“We’re going to paint wooden figurines,” he answers without hesitating.

“That sounds amazing. I’d love to do that.” I cringe when I realize it sounds like I’m fishing for an invitation. “I’m meeting up with your sister and Ian after my shift.”

“Have fun.” He slides a look in my direction. The man is impossible to read.

“You are getting drenched.”

“I already was drenched.” He meets my gaze, streams of water flowing off his face, and stops.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is you.” Patrick nods his head to the flat door.

“Oh. Right.”

“See you later, Madison.” Patrick’s gaze lingers on me for a beat before he turns and walks three cars up, pausing at the passenger door and pulling a towel out from the car to wipe his face down.

Then he peels off his wet jersey.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” I whisper and know I should unlock the door and go inside. Instead, I watch him rub his abdomen with the towel before sliding it up around his neck. When he’s done, he quickly strides around to the driver’s side, already wet again. But before he ducks into the car, he glances my way. A grin quirks his mouth before he lowers himself into the seat.

“Fuck!” I whisper-scream and spin to face the door. I was standing in the rain getting all hot and bothered, water dripping down around my hood and into my jacket, gawking at him. What is wrong with me?

Despite the pep talk I gave myself at the soccer game, I’m not sure I can resist that man. It’s a good thing we’re just friends.