by KT Webb
“Thank you, Gannon,” I whisper into his shoulder.
He gently pulls away until he’s looking into my eyes. My stomach does a flip. I can’t let myself get sucked back into whatever hypnotic hold he has over me. Gannon leans forward and kisses my forehead.
“Isn’t this what friends do?” He asks with his lips still touching my brow.
We sit just like that for a few more minutes. The scent of his cologne mixing with my shampoo is intoxicating. My mouth has gone dry, and my heart is practically jumping out of my chest. I’m going to have to keep myself in check around him.
“Gannon? I think we should leave Miss Molloy to her sandwiches and let her have some time to herself,” Aoife’s tone is a mixture of sympathy and questioning.
I lean away from Gannon and try to offer him a reassuring smile. We have an entire conversation without having to utter a single word. He asks if I’m going to be okay, and I nod while wiping the stray tears from my cheeks. Once they’ve left me alone in the quaint cottage, I take a few bites of the sandwiches Aoife prepared. They’re pretty good as far as sandwiches go, but I can’t taste anything. After rummaging in the cupboards, I find a sandwich baggie and put them away for the time being.
I lie down on my bed, gripping the letter my grandfather sent to Ireland, knowing I would follow his request. Between the tears and memories, I drift off into a deeper sleep than I’ve had in years.
If I was confused about my feelings before, I’m not sure how I feel now. It’s Saturday, so I don’t have a lot of turnaround time to prepare the pub for another night of customers. After I left Blake, mum felt it necessary to warn me, yet again, that I shouldn’t even consider Blake as an option for anything other than a friend. Especially now that she’s officially my mums’ boss. I don’t even know what to think about any of it. I can’t believe Roald has enough nerve to attack her in broad daylight. Or that he had the nerve to attack her at all.
I’m preparing to open my pub for the evening, and I’ve got to get my mind off the woman I’m not supposed to be interested in. This place will be packed by nine o’clock. I’ve already checked the stock, so I know we’re good to go with liquor, but I’m waiting for Patrick to get here so we can get everything else set up for the band. While I finish counting and stacking glasses, some movement outside catches my eye. Blake is walking down the main road of Kinnitty. It’s been four hours since I left her to rest after she read the letter from her grandfather. Blake looks as though she’s gotten a bit more rest and thrown on some comfortable clothes. I’m a little disappointed knowing that she will likely not be coming to the pub tonight. I don’t blame her after what happened here last night carried over into today. Her carefree attitude is evident in every step she takes. Blake doesn’t know it yet, but once we get through this shit with Roald, she’s going to fit in just fine in Kinnitty.
“Gannon, you ready to get the stage area set up?” Patrick asks as he walks through the swinging door leading to the back room.
“Yeah, just let me finish with these glasses. Say, Pat, can you grab a few cases of my latest brew? I think I’m going to see if we can use some of our guests tonight as testers.”
“No problem, mate.”
I can always count on Patrick Adams. He’s part-owner of the Wolfhound, but only on paper. Of course, as my best mate, he helps out whenever he’s free. Now that his wife is pregnant with their second child, things are getting pretty busy for him at home, so I know the help will be limited in the future. Outside of his interest in my pub and brewing company, Patrick’s skills as a carpenter have proven useful many times over. I can’t count how many times he’s offered his expertise on various projects. I’m lucky to have a friend like him in my life.
“Gan, don’t think I didn’t notice you staring out the window at Blake as she walked by,” Pat tells me as he sets two cases of beer on the counter.
We begin unpacking them and stowing each bottle in the cooler. I haven’t been brewing for more than a handful of years, but I’ve already got four varieties brewed to perfection. If this one is received well, it will make five different brews I can offer my customers that no one else can.
“C’mon, mate. I know you went to see her today,” Patrick nudges me.
“What? Oh. There’s nothing to tell about us,” I reply in a nonchalant tone.
Pat narrows his eyes at me, “A nice girl, huh? I heard she was causin’ a scene at the bed and breakfast earlier.”
I can feel my blood begin to boil. There’s only one person who would be out spreading rumors about the new American woman who’s taken up residence at the B&B. Roald Molloy had better learn to keep his foul mouth shut or I’ll have to shut it for him. Whoa. I need to relax.
“I’m sure those rumors revolved around a certain elderly gentleman who likes to carry around a shillelagh like some over-sized leprechaun,” I practically spit out the words.
“You could say that. Can you blame the old codger, though? Not that I condone his behavior or anything, but he’s been through the wringer with that brother of his.”
Poor Blake is in for some fun in this tiny town. She has no idea what people think of her. Part of me knows she is going to give exactly zero fucks what anyone thinks. It’s just the idea that she could be misjudged by a whole community that is really getting under my skin. I admit, my first impression of her was less than kind. But the time that I’ve spent with her has shown me that the assumption that she’s here to take over the Molloy family fortune is absurd. Blake didn’t even know she’d inherited it until today. She thought she was just on a mission to reconnect with Brion Molloy’s long-lost family.
“Listen, Patrick, I think you should actually talk to her before you start believing everything Roald has to say. He’s a little biased. Trust me, I was there when she found out it was all hers. She had no idea.”
“Still sweet on her, are ya, Gan?”
I make a sound that I hope sounds like I find his suggestion ridiculous. There is no way I can tell anyone that since the moment I kissed her in that hotel room, all I have been able to think about is how differently it would go if I had the chance to do it again. I’m not going down that road again. Patrick has been with me through it all. Madigan is his sister, and she walked away from him the day she left me broken-hearted in my own pub. I glance over at the corner booth, where I had my last conversation with the woman who was supposed to be the love of my life. Strangely, that space is almost always unoccupied. Patrons tend to grab the chairs from the outside and leave the benches empty. I’m a firm believer in places having memories, just like the humans who inhabit them. Maybe that booth remembers my anguish and repels people from it. Or, perhaps, the legend has grown around the sad and lonely pub owner who wasn’t good enough for the one woman who said she loved him. Either way, it suits me just fine to have it sit empty.
“Do you think she’ll come back tonight?” Patrick asks, unwilling to let it go.
“I don’t know, man. She’s probably tired. There’s a lot for her to process right now. Blake was pretty tired when I left the cottage earlier.”
“I’ll bet she was!” Patrick laughs and slaps me on the back.
“C’mon man, that’s not what I meant. She’s just drained. Between the encounter, last night, being assaulted by her great uncle today, and discovering that her grandfather left her with a huge responsibility and a business, I think she deserves some sleep.”
“She really didn’t know?”
I shake my head, “I’m the one who told her. I was so mad at Roald for being an arsehole to her that I blurted it out. I didn’t know she wasn’t told. Turns out, he put it all in a letter for her and had the letter delivered here.”
“Wow. That’s something, isn’t it?” Patrick ran a hand through his hair, “Do you find it interesting that her parents chose to name her Blake?”
“Yes. I thought it was strange too. I wonder how much she knows about that part of her family.”
“The Blakes were a big deal
before they moved out of Galway. Are you going to take her there?”
The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but now the idea of showing Blake a bit of her family history outside of Kinnitty made me perk up. I’m not going to spring that on her yet. She needs to get settled in and maybe meet some of the less aggressive members of the Molloy clan before I whisk her away for a weekend on the western coast.
“Hey, there’s our girl!” Pat grins, nodding toward the large window at the front of the pub.
Blake has obtained the coffee she must have gone in search of. I’ve never seen someone so happy to drink a cup of bean water in my life. I watch her as she takes in her surroundings while casually sipping her coffee. When her gaze lands on the Wolfhound, I get instant chills.
“Look, here she comes!” Patrick says as he rushes to unlock the front door.
I really can’t get upset that he’s so interested in meeting her without a crowd here. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to show her around when the place isn’t overrun with patrons. I can’t exactly go rushing to the door to let her in, I don’t want to seem overly eager. Maybe it’s best if I let Patrick bring her in and show her around. No, I can’t imagine Blake will come in if she doesn’t know I’m here.
“See? I told you he was in here,” Patrick laughs from the doorway as Blake peers around him.
As soon as she sees me standing in the middle of the room, her face relaxes, and she walks straight up to me. Her embarrassed grin tells me she’s still worried I’m judging her for falling apart earlier. If only she knew.
“Hey! I wondered if this was your pub,” she teases as though she’s never been here. “You know, I saw the other one, and I wasn’t sure if you were a Wolfhound guy or a Yellow Rose guy.”
“Gan is definitely a Yellow Rose guy, but he owns the Wolfhound,” Patrick says with a sly smile.
“The Yellow Rose has sort of become the hang out for the older crowd,” I tell her with a grin. “I see you went out for coffee instead of facing my mom again.”
“Yeah, but there is a serious lack of coffee creamer here. I had to resort to heavy whipping cream and sugar.”
Patrick and I exchange a look. I shrug my shoulders at him to let him know I’m just as lost as he is. “What do you mean by creamer? Isn’t that just cream?”
Blake goes from laughing at my joke to realizing it’s not a joke at all. The look of shock on her face is probably funnier than any joke I might have told. She stares at her coffee cup as though she’s been betrayed in the worst possible way.
“Coffee creamer is life. I don’t know if I can survive without it. What is wrong with you people? Are you barbarians? How can you possibly not know what creamer is? It’s called International Delight, isn’t it? How is it not internationally available?”
Both Patrick and I lose it at her rant. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she seems pretty serious about this creamer thing. I make a mental note to do a little online research to see if I can find her some of this precious nectar that she feels must be added to her coffee. I’m trying to contain my giggles because Blake is giving me a death glare.
“What’s so funny, Mr. Fitzpatrick?”
“Oh, she’s pulling out your last name now? When is she going to add the middle name in to make it serious? Better let your mum know she needs to let Blake in on the secret,” Patrick stops laughing long enough to offer his hand for her to shake.
“I know I’ve seen you here before, but we’ve never had a chance to meet officially. I’m Blake Molloy, and you are?”
“Patrick Adams, I’m the best mate of this buffoon. He hasn’t been too much of a pain for you, has he? I understand you had a good time in Dublin.”
Blake bites her lip and glances at me. That expression has a direct line to my nob. Patrick has no idea what he’s stepping in. Ah shite. I cannot do this right now. I’d better facilitate a change of subject soon. Otherwise, I‘m going to be sorry.
“He hasn’t been terrible, but he’s always a bit of grump, isn’t he?” Blake asks, shooting me a flirtatious smile.
“Always. You have no idea,” Patrick laughs. “Listen, I’ll finish getting things set up in here, why don’t you go ahead and give Miss Molloy the full tour?”
“That sounds great!” Blake grins again. “I’ve always wondered what was behind the swinging doors.”
This girl is going to kill me. I can’t keep looking at her like this. We aren’t going to be anything more than friends. Even if she’s now the owner of the Molloy properties, I’ve no guarantee that she’s going to stick around. Nothing is keeping her here. It’s not like her extended family has proven to be very welcoming. While I’m lost in thought, Blake takes the opportunity to slide her injured hand into mine. What the hell? Okay, Gannon, keep your cool. I’m careful not to squeeze it, but I close my fingers around it and gently rub my thumb along her index finger. I mean it as a reassuring gesture. This is something friends do, right? Patrick glances down at our joined hands and looks away quickly, hoping I didn’t notice him noticing. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
“Well, you’ve obviously seen the main area, the pool tables are over here,” I gently lead her toward the semi-secluded room to the left of the bar.
“Do you play?”
I shake my head, “Never cared to. But, I know a lot of guys who love to come in after work and play a few rounds before heading home. It’s how they unwind after a long day.”
“What’s back there?” Blake gestures toward the backroom.
“I’ll show you.”
As we walk into the backroom, I can’t help but feel a little excited at the idea of showing her my distillery. I’ve worked hard to perfect the system over the years, and I’m proud of how far it’s come. Of course, other than the distillery, there’s something else I want to show her. My soft-coated Wheaten Terrier, Sarge, spends his days hanging out in the large fenced-in yard between the pub and my cottage.
I’ve had Sarge for almost five years. Other than Patrick, my pup is my best friend. He’s become a fixture at the Wolfhound, the closest thing to a mascot without me having an actual Irish Wolfhound loping around the pub. Don’t think the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, I had a big old wolfhound when I was a kid, and I’d love to have another, I just don’t have space.
“You have a lot of storage space. How much liquor do you go through here?” Blake asks, looking around.
“Well, we Irish love our drinks. I go through whiskey and Guinness more than anything, but I brew my own beer too.”
“You mentioned that. Where do you do that?”
I smile at her and gesture toward the back door. Blake lets me lead the way but stays close to me as though she’s afraid to lose sight of a familiar face. Once I open the door that leads to the yard between the pub and my cottage, I hear the anticipated bark from Sarge as he bounds toward me. Without hesitation, I drop to my knees and welcome him with open arms. Blake releases an uncharacteristically girly squeal.
“Oh my god, he’s adorable! Can I pet him?”
Sarge doesn’t exactly need an invitation. He notices a new friend and immediately barrels into Blake. She’s petting him and rubbing his soft, fluffy fur while cooing various words of encouragement to the most spoiled dog in Ireland.
“I think Sarge has a new best friend,” I laugh while he practically glues himself to Blake’s side when I begin to lead her toward the distillery.
“Wow, this is impressive!”
Blake circles the large stainless-steel tanks. I have two brewery systems set up so I can alternate my brews based on their flavor bases. Pat and I aren’t brewing on a large scale, so it works out for us to maintain a smaller operation. I have no interest in expanding production. This is my beer, and I get to sell it to my customers exclusively.
“This is really neat,” Blake tells me while she absently scratches Sarge behind the ears.
“Thank you. It’s been a lot of work, but I think it’s paying off. My customers really seem
to like what we’ve come up with, and I like playing with different flavor combinations.”
Blake looks toward my cottage, “Is that more storage?”
“No, that’s my house. I live right by the pub. I know it’s a little cliché, but I figured the land was available, and Pat is one hell of a carpenter, so why not build my own place.”
“Maybe some time you’ll have to show it to me, but I suppose I should be getting back to my own cottage for now. I have a lot to discuss with your mom about what she needs from me and what to expect from the rest of my...charming family,” Blake chuckles nervously.
“Ah, yes. The Molloy clan isn’t exactly known for their warm hearts and charitable personalities. As a whole, they aren’t bad people. Most of the Molloy’s I know are much more amiable than Roald.”
