by Sandra Marie
“What’s that?” he asked, nodding to the large tote bag she was holding with both hands.
Her lips tilted upward as she turned to the bar, hoisted the tote up, and plopped it on the bar. “Supplies,” she said.
“I’m not following.”
She laughed and it was sunshine on his cloudy mood. “Stuff to make decorations for the St. Patrick’s Day Extravaganza.”
“I’m still not sure I can pull it off.”
“You can and I’m going to help.”
“Dude,” Brody the beer spiller said. “Are you having an event here for St. Patrick’s Day?”
He hadn’t really put much thought into it since his and Lauren’s conversation. “Um. Yeah.”
“Absolutely!” Lauren looked at Gavin before turning to Brody and continuing. “There will be drink specials, food, tons of people, and karaoke.”
“Karaoke?” Gavin exclaimed.
Me and my friends have been trying to figure out what to do. The new place around the corner is having a dart tournament.”
If he hadn’t started construction, he could’ve had that too. He could have had a lot of things like groups of people still coming in his bar.
“That sounds fun,” Lauren said with a not impressed shrug. “But we’ll be having a contest for the best dressed leprechaun. A competition for the cities best Irish soda bread and everyone here gets to taste and be the judge. They’ll also be a four-leaf clover hunt.”
“A four-leaf what?” Gavin said, scratching his head as a nervous tick started to take over his body. Lauren was promising on all these things he wasn’t going to be able to deliver. He didn’t even know what a four-leaf clover hunt entailed. And what was she talking about with a best dressed leprechaun contest? Did that mean she expected him to dress up as a leprechaun? Was she going to dress up? What was going on?
Yes, they agreed that she’d work on decorations and he’d come up with some drink specials, but he didn’t realize it was going to be more than that. He didn’t think it could be more than that. He had no idea if he could even afford half the things she just came up with.
Her eyes landed on him and she bit her lip, a pretty red tinge dotting her neck and cheeks. “I’m sorry,” Lauren said, her shoulders slumping into themselves. “I got carried away. I just love doing this kind of stuff. I shouldn’t have…”
Only a second ago, her face was bright and cheerful. She was taking charge and she genuinely looked ecstatic. He didn’t like that one look at him took that away so quickly. “Now I’m curious about the four-leaf clover hunt.”
Her eyes met his and she started to inflate again.
“Yeah, how’s that work?” Brody asked.
Her face lit up and she glanced back at Brody. “Come on the seventeenth, and you’ll find out.” She flashed Brody a smile, and he nodded.
If Lauren had the confidence in him to pull this off then he was going to go all out. He tapped the bar and stood tall. “It’ll be a five-dollar cover fee,” he said, hoping the cover would at least help him pay for the expense and maybe even get him a profit in the end.
“Awesome! The place around the corner is charging ten. All right. Me and my friends will be here,” Brody declared, holding his beer up again with that same gusto.
“Great!” Lauren said. “See you then.”
Brody went back to his beer, and Lauren started digging in her bag. Gavin stared at her like she’d lost her damn mind because her confidence in his ability to make this event happen was questionable.
“What was all that?” he asked as she plopped a stack of green construction paper onto the bar.
“What was what?”
“Don’t act all innocent on me. You just created an event out of thin air.”
She leaned across the bar, her features turning downward. “I told you I was sorry. Once I get started my imagination just gets away from me and I have a hard time wheeling it in.””
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I still don’t think I can make this happen, but…” He shrugged.
She placed her hands on top of the paper and met his gaze. Her eyes softened. “I told you I would help you. We’re going to make this the best St. Patrick’s Day event this city has ever seen.”
“We only have two weeks to pull this off.” Not to mention his brother’s gala next week. “Where am I going to get a karaoke machine or people to make Irish soda bread?”
“Easy. The library has a karaoke machine they let the employees borrow when it’s not being used. I may have already put my name on the list for the weekend of the seventeenth.”
He didn’t know what to say. Her faith in him was staggering, so he just stared at her in awe.
“My grandma makes the best Irish soda bread. Or she did. With her arthritis, she can’t really use a mixer anymore or do a lot of the things she once loved, but she gave me the recipe, and I’m really excited to give it a shot. I have a new oven now too after Ginny almost burnt the house down—that’s a fun story, I’ll tell you about another time. We can ask our friends to attempt making their own bread, though not Ginny. You can even give it a try. Little friendly competition.”
Blush filled her cheeks, and he’d be an idiot to tell her no. “I wouldn’t want to disrespect your grandma’s recipe with a win.”
“Oh! I see how it is. I want a little friendly competition, and you’re going cutthroat over here. We’ll see come the seventeenth if you’re all talk.”
Shit. Now he needed to find a recipe. He was going to have to call his dads. They were the only ones he could think of that would be able to help him out with this. He’d worry about that later though; he still had more questions.
“And what about this four-leaf clover hunt?”
“That’s going to be the fun one. Everybody who wants to participate will get a card with a clue on it. Each clue will bring them to the next clue. The first person or team to find the four-leaf clover is the winner.”
“Where did you even come up with this?”
“It’s something we do at the library with the kids, but drunk adults will get just as excited trust me.”
“I don’t even know what to say. You’re turning this into a reality for me.” Up until a few moments ago, he had given up almost all hope at being able to pull off a big event in that bar this year. Now Lauren was making it happen. She helped him look beyond his own doubts and visions of failure to make him realize that it was always possible.
“You don’t have to say anything. Just help me cut out these clovers.” She handed him part of the green stack of construction paper and a pair of scissors. He took the paper from her and realized each piece had a hand stenciled four-leaf clover on it. “For the banner,” she said.
“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
Her teeth slid over her bottom lip, that pretty blush filling her cheeks. She shrugged. “That’s what my grandma says.”
“Sounds like a smart woman.”
“She is.”
“Tell me about her,” Gavin said as he started to cut the first piece of construction paper. “Is she where you get all your creative talent from?”
“Some. She’s a knitter, but like I said, with the arthritis she can’t really do that anymore. She can’t do a lot of things anymore, which frustrates her, and I can’t blame her. She and my grandfather have been married for fifty years, but my grandma has always been fiercely independent. She never waited on my grandpa for anything. If something needed to be done, she would just do it. The arthritis has taken that away from her.”
“I’d be frustrated too,” Gavin said. “One minute you are doing everything yourself, and the next you’re reliant on someone else. It would be hard to get used to.”
“Exactly. She’s better, slowly starting to accept the things she can’t change, let Grandpa help her, but she still carries that independent air about her, and honestly, I don’t think she’ll ever shed it. It’s a part of who she is.”
“I can see you get that fro
m her.”
Lauren tilted her head, eyes, staying on the paper as she continued to cut. “Really? And how so? You barely know me.”
“When there’s a bar filled with people, and you choose to sit in the corner and do your own thing. That shows me you’re independent.”
“Or that I’m antisocial and hate people.”
His eyebrow arched. “Do you?”
She smirked. “No. I don’t hate people, and I’m not antisocial per se. More like socially awkward.”
“You don’t seem socially awkward to me at all.”
“Oh, but I can be. Some people have mistaken it as me being a bitch, but honestly, it’s just me being awkward and unsure of myself.”
“You have nothing to be unsure of,” he said. She was smart and kind, laidback and easy to talk to.
She hid her smile with her shoulder. “That’s sweet of you to say.”
He laughed, rubbing at his chin. “I just made it awkward, didn’t I?”
“So awkward.”
“Okay, sorry, but I’m not taking it back.” He followed the line of the clover, turning the paper and not the scissor like he’d been taught as a kid. Who knew those lessons would come in handy later in life. “This is kind of relaxing.” He leaned against the bar, his shoulders easing as he finished the cutout.
“Isn’t it? I love when I have to cut things out. Keeps me busy and occupies my mind enough that I don’t get bored or overthink things.”
“Do you do that a lot? Overthink things?”
“Socially awkward remember? I overthink everything.”
“Is that why you lose yourself in books? You don’t have to think about what’s going to happen next because it’s already predetermined for you?”
“I’ve never thought about it that way.” She was silent for a moment, finishing up the clover she was working on. She made the last snip of the scissor and looked up, meeting his eyes. “Maybe.”
She picked up the four-leaf clovers she cut out and retrieved a hole puncher from her bag.
“What’s that for?” he asked, nodding to her hand.
“To loop the string through so we can turn these into a banner.” She began punching two holes in each corner of the top of the leaf. When she was done, she went in her bag again and pulled out clear string and began to thread the clovers creating a banner. She held it up. “Not bad, huh?”
Not bad at all. “That looks pretty great.”
Brody and his friends stood up. “Have a good night,” he said. “We’ll see you on St. Patty’s Day.”
Lauren smiled and gave a wave while Gavin gathered the empty glasses and nice tip.
“See you then.”
The door opened, a cool night breeze came in, and Lauren ran her hand up and down her arm.
“You cold?” he asked. “I can get you a sweatshirt from upstairs.” He pointed over his shoulder to the door that led to the back staircase.
“Upstairs?” Her head tilted at an adorable angle, brown hair falling over one eye. He thought about reaching across the bar and pushing it back behind her ears—girls loved that shit—but he hesitated, and the moment was lost.
He scratched the back of his head. “I live in the apartment up there.”
“Oh! That’s convenient. After a good night you can stumble upstairs. Don’t even have to get a girl to go very far.” Her eyes widened. “I have no idea why I said that.” She buried her face in her hands and said something else, but he couldn’t hear the words as they mumbled against her hands.
He reached out, taking her soft hands in his and lowering them from her face. “That’s better,” he said. Her cheeks were a vibrant red, spreading across her nose up the bridge to her forehead. “Want me to go get that sweatshirt now?”
“Nope, my embarrassment has done a nice job of warming me up.” She slipped off the stool, grabbed the four-leaf clover banner, and skipped over toward the back wall. She turned around, meeting his gaze. “I thought we could hang this—” A loud squeal came from her mouth just as Gavin yelled.
“Watch out.” His hands flung forward as if he had somehow developed telekinesis and could stop her from tripping over a piece of metal sticking out of the floor. Her ankle twisted, and her whole body flung forward.
He ran out from behind the bar, watching it as if it was on slow motion replay. She tried to stop from falling and jolted back, trying to keep her balance, her foot sliding and her ankle twisting again throwing her completely off balance and into a heap of green skirt and blue shirt on the floor.
The right side of her body hit the ground with a thud before he could make it to her. A painful sob spilled from her lips, and panic clawed up his throat.
“Oh my god,” he said, kneeling beside her. “Are you okay?” His eyes searched her face for answers. Her face contorted in pain, little wrinkles pulling uncomfortably at the bridge of her nose, the same spot that only moments ago was red with embarrassment. A tear slipped down her cheek, and it completely gutted him.
He swiped his thumb beneath her lid, swiping the tear away. “Where does it hurt?” he asked.
She sniffed. “My ankle.”
He took her ankle gently into hand and pulled it onto his lap. It didn’t look swollen through her tights. He gently touched it and didn’t think it felt inflamed but did an ankle swell that quickly? He wasn’t a doctor or an EMT. “I’ll get you some ice.”
He hurried behind the bar, grabbing a clean rag, and filling it with ice. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lauren attempt to stand. She let out a high-pitched squeal as she put pressure on it, and like the Flash, he dropped the rag; the sound of ice hitting the floor echoed around them. He was at her side in seconds, scooping her up in his arms before she could fall again. “I got you,” he said.
She sucked in a startled breath as she stared at him with those pretty eyes that were now etched with pain.
“Hold on to me,” he said.
Their warmth mingled together as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her head against his chest. He walked, with her in his arms, to the door and turned the lock.
“You don’t close for another couple of hours.”
“We’re closing early tonight,” he said. He turned to the bar and headed to the back door that led to the stairs. He stopped when he was halfway there. “I have an ice pack up in my apartment and a couch for you to sit on. If you prefer a chair or a barstool, you can stay down here, and I’ll run up and get the ice pack.” He didn’t want to bring her up there without permission because the last thing he wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable.
He could feel the heat of her cheeks rise against his chest. “Upstairs will work.”
“Upstairs it is then.” He turned toward the door, his eyes lingering on the blasted metal that he should have done a better job of blocking off. He’d thought it was bad enough to watch his dreams slip away because of the construction disaster, but now someone was hurt and the only person there was to blame was himself.
He carried her upstairs, cursing himself the entire way.
Lauren never expected to be in Gavin’s apartment so quickly especially since they hadn’t even technically had a first date, but here she was. Her eyes scanned the surprisingly large open space. Black couches were in the middle of the room around a big screen TV and in between the TV and the couches sat a coffee table with several books scattered across it. She tried to zero in on the titles but, she couldn’t make them out from where she was in Gavin’s arms. He moved toward the couches, away from the kitchen that was to the far right of the space, and placed her on the soft leather.
She reached over and swiped up the books. They were thick, the binding worn, and while she’d never heard of the author or the title, from the cover she could tell they were science fiction. “You like sci-fi?” she said.
He smirked, taking the book from her hand and sitting beside her. “Love it. There’s something about the world building that draws me in. Sometimes even more than the characters.”
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She swallowed, resisting the urge to fan herself. His words were basically foreplay in her literature loving mind, and she needed to cool down before she combusted.
“Let me get you that ice pack,” he said.
“Yes!” she blurted at a much higher decibel than she intended. She cleared her throat trying to play it off. “I mean ice would be good. Thanks.”
He handed her the book as he stood, and she skimmed through the pages. She noticed a few highlighted passages and stopped to read them. Most of the highlighted sentences revolved around the descriptions of places and scenery.
Gavin came back with the ice pack and lifted her leg, arranging it on his lap. He wrapped the ice pack in a white towel and placed it onto her ankle. She sucked in a breath as the coolness soaked through her tights and into her skin.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just cold.”
“Let me get you that sweatshirt now.”
“No,” she said, holding her hand up. “I meant the ice is cold not that I’m cold. She didn’t want him to get up. She rather liked being on his couch with her foot in his lap. It felt cozy and like it was exactly where she belonged.
He settled into the cushions, and she held up the book. “What is it about world building you like so much?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s seeing beyond what is out there and dreaming about what could be. Like my bar for instance. I started there as a bartender, and I dreamed about owning the place one day and transforming it into my own world. I could see everything in my mind so clearly. Where the ping pong table would go, the dart board, where I would set up more tables and maybe even update the small kitchen to serve your typical bar fare.”
“And now you own it.”
“I do, but what I realized is those dreams were nothing more than an impossible vision. In these books it’s as if the world is real. That the writer somehow transported me from our regular world into their vision. Even though it’s impossible, on the pages it’s real. I envy the writers now more so than ever.”
