Love in Dublin

by Jennifer Gracen

  “Oh my God,” Maggie moaned, wide-eyed at their heaping plates. “I think I just had a foodgasm.”

  Colin nearly choked on his whiskey. The server laughed out loud before walking away.

  They ate for a few minutes in companionable silence. But soon she was at it again with her never-ending questions.

  “You said you’re one of eight kids?” Maggie asked.

  “Aye. I’m the third.”

  “Me too.”

  “So you said.”

  “I was just thinking about how different families can be,” Maggie mused as she scooped up another forkful of mashed potatoes. “You clearly have such a deep sense of family. I… never did.”

  “Were they rotten to ya?” He phrased it like a joke to lighten the loaded question.

  “No. They just… kind of ignored me.” She shrugged.

  Colin shook his head. “I know what it’s like to feel ignored in your own home. I’m sorry.”

  “You mean your ex-wife, though. Not your parents.” Maggie grinned and added playfully, “C’mon, the firstborn son? You were their pride and joy, I’m sure.”

  “Maybe.” Definitely. He didn’t want to say it in light of her own family issues. “When’s the last time you went back to Ohio and saw your parents? Just curious.”

  “Um… Christmas, year before last. So what’s that, over a year and a half, I guess? Then.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “Fine. They’ve been nicer since the accident.”

  “The accident,” he repeated, then realized what she meant. The accident that had killed her husband and left her in a coma for a week. He cut into the last of his steak. “I’m sure they were very grateful you survived. They must love you, Maggie. I mean… look, I don’t know your family history, I don’t mean to insinuate myself. I’m just—”

  “No worries. You sound like… a good parent.”

  He frowned at that.

  “I know they love me. They just never understood me. So it was easier to shower their attention on the daughters they did.” She took a long swallow, finishing her whiskey. Looking around the pub, she caught their server’s eye and lifted her glass with one of her dazzling smiles, her way of asking for another. Then she turned that smile on Colin and it almost blinded him. “Interesting how tonight you keep managing to direct the conversation to being about me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  “It’s not a ploy,” Colin said, mildly flustered. “I’m interested in you.”

  Her eyes lit and twinkled. “Are ya now?”

  He blushed. He actually fucking blushed; his face felt like it was on fire. He wanted to strangle himself. “I didn’t mean… bloody hell.”

  Her giggle was light and satisfied, making him only blush harder.

  “You’re a cheeky one. Go ahead, laugh.” Giving in, he finally cracked a grin himself, then reached for his whiskey and drained what was left of it. “What I meant was you interest me, as a person. I find you interesting. You’ve quite a story.”

  “I do indeed.” Her expression was wickedly playful and a little sexy and he wanted to ravage her. “Thank you. I find you interesting too.”

  “I don’t know why,” he said, neatly cutting the last bite of his juicy filet and savoring it on his tongue. “Compared to your life, mine’s pretty boring.”

  “Maybe you think your life is boring,” she said, “but you’re not boring.”

  He met her eyes, swallowing his mouthful before saying plainly, “Yes, I am.”

  “I disagree.” Her gaze deepened. “And not only that, you’re handsome as hell.”

  His stomach gave a little flip, almost like butterflies. Here he was, a forty-year-old man, and this feisty girl was giving him butterflies. It was absurd.

  “Another round,” the server said, setting down two new glasses of whiskey before them. “Shall I clear your plates?”

  “Yes, please. It was amazing,” Maggie said, smiling. “Please tell the cook.”

  “I surely will, lass.”

  Colin waited until he walked away before saying to Maggie, “You’re a hopeless flirt, aren’t you?”

  “Nah. I’m not hopeless.” She winked.

  “You must be feeling that whiskey,” he said.

  “I am a bit, but guess what?” She raised her glass and tapped it to his. “I thought you were gorgeous before I started drinking.”

  He gaped at her.

  “Don’t worry, Mister McKinnon,” she said, her voice downright sinful. “I’m just flirting. I won’t jump you. You look petrified.”

  That spurred him into finally responding. “Not petrified. Stupefied.”

  She laughed, a full, warm sound that grabbed hold of his insides.

  “Though maybe I should be petrified,” he added. “Seein’ as how you could likely kick my arse and all.”

  “Oh, Colin,” she purred, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. “I promise if you ever tried to kiss me, kicking your arse would be the furthest thing from my mind.”

  Their gazes locked. He hadn’t flirted in so long, he didn’t know how anymore. He just stared back, mesmerized that this beautiful woman was flirting with him at all.

  “By the way,” she said, “I don’t flirt like this with every man I meet. But… what can I say? You… interest me. As a person. I find you interesting.” After echoing his words, she winked again and took a long sip of her drink.

  He felt frozen in his seat. Was she toying with him? Because for her to be interested in him… simply, he just couldn’t believe that. Why would someone like her be interested in him? He was a decade older, led a boring life, was tied to the ground with his family… everything she wasn’t. The whiskey must have gone to her head.

  *

  The night sky was still light at nine p.m. Maggie and Colin walked from the pub to the inn side by side. Earlier, they’d checked in and dropped off their things. Now it was just a matter of getting back, getting up to their rooms, and getting some sleep. They weren’t touching, but God he wanted to. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, pull her close, feel her against him. He wanted to close his mouth over hers and taste her, see if her hair felt as soft in his hands as he imagined it would, let his hands run over her curves and learn every alluring inch of her.

  He wouldn’t, of course. He’d never cross the line like that. She felt safe in his presence, and especially given what he’d learned tonight, he wanted her to have no qualms about him in any way. But he felt her presence so strongly, especially when she was this close. There was an energy there, almost palpable between them… he stole a glance at her. Her pale cheeks had spots of color, no doubt from the two whiskeys she’d enjoyed. Christ, she was lovely.

  He swallowed hard. He’d have to be a dead man not to want her. And one thing that time with her over the days had showed him was that he wasn’t dead yet after all. This woman, with her blinding smile and infectious good nature, had swept into his life and woken him up. She made him feel very much alive.

  She made him feel, period. Which was both exhilarating and scary as hell.

  As they trudged up the flight of stairs from the lobby of the inn to their rooms, she wobbled a bit, giggling at herself.

  “You’re a bit in your cups,” he noted, steadying her with a gentle hand at the small of her back.

  “Is that charming Irish for drunk?” She grinned and admitted, “If so, then yup, a little.”

  “I’ll see you straight to your door, then.”

  “Always a gentleman. I do like that about you.”

  He bit back the reply that this evening, he’d entertained some thoughts that weren’t so gentlemanly. Thoughts that included slowly undressing her to see what color her bra and panties might be… what her body looked like bathed in moonlight… what she’d feel like under his hands and mouth.

  He started getting hard again just thinking about it.

  “Room number three…” she said as they walked down the hallway. They stopped in front of her door and sh
e turned to him, smiling. “Thank you for a truly lovely day, Colin. I’m so glad you decided to join me.”

  “I am too. Thank you as well.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, the air crackling between them.

  She edged close, put her hands on his shoulders, and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. It was dangerously close to his lips, almost landing on the corner of his mouth. The light touch of her soft lips against his skin sent currents shooting down his spine. She lingered for a second, then pulled back, looking into his eyes. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” he murmured, his heart beating in hard, thick thumps as he gazed down at her. “Meet you downstairs at nine, right?”

  “Mm hmm.” Her eyes trailed over his face, lingering for a few seconds on his mouth before she smiled. “Sweet dreams, Colin.” She turned away, fit the key into the lock, and went into her room, closing the door gently behind her.

  He stood there for a long moment, his blood pulsing through his body and his heart still thumping, before he blinked as if to clear the spell she’d cast over him and go to his own room. He’d have sweet dreams, all right. Of her.

  Chapter Six

  The next two weeks seemed to go quickly. Maggie went to another destination every day, and met Colin for a drink at the pub every evening but Wednesdays. That was the night he had dinner with his daughter, and one of his sons too sometimes. So that was the night she chose to stay in her flat and catch up on organizing all her notes, writing about where she’d gone and what she’d seen, beginning to make a report for her employer more cohesive instead of being overwhelmed at the end of the job.

  She wanted this to be a solid piece. She took pride in her work, and had never been hired to do something on this grand a scale. If she did it well, perhaps she’d be able to parlay that into another similar job, one that paid well and allowed her to spend time in another wonderful place.

  Funny how completely comfortable she was in Dublin. She’d never settle down, but if she ever did… which, of course, she figured she’d have to one day, when she was a little old lady on her own… she gazed out the window of her living room, down to the bustling street below. The more time she spent in this charming city, with its unbelievably friendly people, great food and drink, and vibrant culture and history, the more she loved everything about it.

  Zack’s face appeared in her mind, unbidden. A flash of memory: him wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a quick kiss as they’d strolled down a street in Dublin on their first trip. His dark eyes merry as he said, “This is an amazing city. We should drop anchor here once we’re done traveling. Let’s move here.”

  “Okay,” she’d said, smiling back up at him.

  It was the first time they’d played that little game, which became a running joke between them. When they loved a place, one would say to the other, “Let’s move here.” The list had grown long over their few years together, but they’d made a second trip to Ireland a few months before the accident. The Emerald Isle held a special allure for her, even more than for Zack, and he’d gladly indulged her. They’d spent a few days at an inn on the west coast, taking in the wilder countryside before going on to Belfast and Dublin.

  After, when Maggie was alone, she’d gone back to Ireland a third time, a quick two-day visit to Dublin to visit Ciara before flying across to the highlands of Scotland for a three week tour. And now this job, her fourth jaunt to Ireland… the country did seem to keep drawing her back.

  But three months here. Three whole months. That was a long time. It was enough time to feel weighted by the connections. To get to know people on a deeper level and forge routines. Saying hello to familiar faces in the grocery, or down at the pub. People who recognized her, day after day. She hadn’t done that in years… it was a curious thing, and she didn’t quite know how she felt about that yet. It made her wonder how long it’d be until the itch would kick in, the little nagging feeling that hit, the one that whispered, Don’t get comfortable. Gotta keep moving. And she’d always heed that voice.

  But so far, so good. She was happy in Dublin.

  Her cell phone dinged with a text, jolting her from her thoughts.

  Hi, it’s Colin. Are you around?

  There was the other added bonus about spending time in Dublin. Her growing acquaintance with this wrapped up tight, slow burn of a handsome man. Maggie glanced at the time. A bit past seven. Hi yourself. What’s up? Weren’t you seeing your kids for dinner tonight?

  Still with them, he wrote back. I told them I’ve been going places on the weekends with a female American travel blogger and they didn’t believe me. Can you tell me the name of your YouTube account? Or the website? Can’t recall either right now and they want proof you exist.

  Maggie chuckled to herself and texted back the info. Then she took a quick selfie of herself and sent it to him. Show them this and tell them I said hi. See, I exist!

  Well done, lass, Colin wrote back. Thanks! Talk to you later.

  Enjoy your kids, Maggie texted, adding a smiley emoji.

  Smiling softly, she settled back into the couch. Colin McKinnon was warming up to her. She wondered if he realized it. Getting him to smile and talk, much less slowly emerge from his self-imposed cage, had become something of a personal mission for her. He was a good man. But holy crap, so deeply wounded. His regrets over his past and his failed marriage had left him drowning in self-flagellation. Left him adrift.

  She recognized a fellow wounded soul who needed a life raft. A line to tow him back to shore and help him find his footing again on steady ground. That had been her not so long ago.

  It made her want to reach out to him. To soothe him, to jumpstart him, to open his eyes, to… she wasn’t totally sure what. Sure, she was attracted to him. And yes, she’d absolutely do something about that before much longer. But it wasn’t just that. She genuinely liked him; in spite of their differences, they’d connected.

  Making Colin smile again, perhaps even ease back into living again, was one of her main reasons to travel. When she’d started out again on her own, she’d been so lost, in such a haze of grief. Meeting and connecting with others had helped her gain perspective, learn about herself and what she could do on her own… live again. Now, she liked to pay it forward, bring light to people if she could. Giving to others, doing for others… why had she lived if not to do something magnanimous? Spark some light, connect briefly, then go on her way.

  There were no roots for her in this world. She had to keep moving. It was the only way to keep the darkness that crouched and hovered at the periphery at bay.

  *

  Colin stared at the photo Maggie had texted him. It was pure Maggie Spencer. Her blonde hair in its usual ponytail, face clear of makeup save for mascara and a bit of lip color, a sparkle in her warm brown eyes and that sunny smile. It looked like she was in a flat, from the background; he hadn’t been to her place yet, so he was assuming. She’d probably snapped the quick selfie without thinking twice of it. No attempt at the perfect angle or playing with filters, as he often watched Roisin do. Maggie didn’t need filters. She was unfiltered light and color and energy.

  “She’s really pretty,” Roisin said. “Don’t you think so, Da?”

  His eyes snapped up. Both she and Stephen were staring at him, inquisitive and a bit mischievous. Colin felt like a kid who’d been caught at something. “Aye, she is.”

  “How old is she?” Roisin asked.

  “Thirty.”

  “Bit young for ya, no?” Stephen quipped.

  “No,” Roisin answered before Colin could answer. “Not at all. You’re daft.”

  “We’re not dating,” Colin said brusquely. “So you can both just relax with that.”

  “What are you doing, then?” Roisin’s brows lifted in demand.

  “I told you. Just friends, kinda. Not even. She’ll be here for a short time, then go on her way. I take day trips with her sometimes, go places. I tag along, keep her company.” Co
lin sipped his beer. “It’s been… fun. Why not? You’re the one who told me to get out more, right?”

  “Right. I’m glad you met her and are doing things.” Roisin’s grin turned cheeky. “Helps that she’s so easy on the eyes, too.”

  “Stop it, you. You’re a troublemaker.” Colin glanced over at his son, who was staring at his phone. “Find it?”

  “Oh, aye.” Stephen’s blue eyes stayed on the screen. “She’s been in Ireland before, ya know. Look.” He turned the phone around so both Colin and Roisin could see. “It’s from a few years ago, mind. I went to her YouTube channel, looked for anything from Ireland, boom there ya go. Who’s the guy?”

  Colin’s throat closed up as he realized what he was watching. Maggie at Blarney Castle with a young, handsome man. Dark hair long enough for the curls to peek out from under a ballcap, dark eyes, lean build. Radiating confidence and charisma. “Did either of them say his name?” Colin asked, but he knew of course.

  “Sure,” Stephen said. “It’s not what she calls her channel now, but it’s listed in the archive, as ‘ZMTravels.’ She called him Zack?”

  “Aye,” Colin murmured, his gaze glued to the screen. The young couple walked along the green at the castle, the very same stretch of land he and Maggie had strolled across just a few days before. She’d mentioned to Colin that she’d been there once before, but a long time ago, so she wanted to go again for the sake of her commentary being timely and up-to-date. He wondered now how many memories she’d wrestled with that day.

  The video was slightly shaky; Zack’s long arm was up, he was holding the phone above them as they walked slowly. His other arm was around Maggie’s shoulders, curling her into his side, clearly affectionate. Zack’s voice—was that a Southern twang? Colin wasn’t sure—was strong and filled with humor. Maggie stared up at him as he talked as if he were the best thing she’d ever seen. Her hair was shorter, loose as it fell onto her shoulders, and her expression was open and free. She threw her head back and laughed, that full and wonderful sound Colin had become familiar with, and it made his heart squeeze.