My Wanderlust Bites the Dust

by Eliza Watson

  “Do you work for the Irish tourism board?” the man joked, jarring me from my mental tour of Ireland.

  “No, but I’ll add that to my list of possible jobs. Thanks.”

  “Do you live there?” the woman asked. “Heading home?”

  I smiled, nodding, a warm feeling rushing through me.

  Declan was a wonderful reason to move to Ireland, but he definitely wasn’t my only one. I had plenty of others. Zoe, Sadie Collentine and her cousin Seamus Quinn, Declan’s parents, Mr. MacCool, Nicholas Turney…George Wood. I could hop over to England for a weekend at the Daly estate and learn how to play cricket or ride a horse. Ireland gave me a sense of belonging and comfort no place ever had.

  Chapter Twenty

  I inhaled a deep breath, and the Connelly Court Hotel’s signature vanilla-lavender scent filled my head. After tripping here in front of Brecker’s CEO, along with other embarrassing mishaps, I never imagined this place would have such a calming effect on me. I crossed the white marble lobby, passing by a crystal vase filled with red and white roses from Valentine’s Day. A very modern-feeling hotel compared to La Haute Bohème, except for the black-and-white 1930s and ’40s Dublin photos on the walls. I pictured Grandma and her sister Theresa shopping at the large Roches department store for the dresses they’d worn in my picture, and John Michael twirling Grandma around the floor at the ballroom dance hall.

  “Well, hello Ms. Shaw,” a man said.

  I turned from the photo to find the hotel’s general manager. An older gentleman dressed in a black suit with a gray shirt and red tie. The last time we’d seen each other was right after I’d dragged a drunk attendee out from under the hotel’s Christmas tree. The loser had his arm draped around my shoulder for support, giving the manager the impression we were a couple.

  “So nice to have you back.”

  “It’s wonderful to be back.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Not here with a group, are you?”

  “No, just me this time.”

  How weird, being here without fifty attendees. Not having to avoid the lobby for fear of being bombarded with questions. Not waking up at the crack of dawn to work breakfast and open the hospitality desk. I could sleep in and order room service. Except I couldn’t afford room service, even with the discounted rate the hotel’s sales rep had given me.

  “Ah, that’s grand. Have a lovely stay.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure I will.”

  Fingers crossed the entire trip would be lovely.

  Being here felt so right, yet my nerves were a wreck. What if I made a complete fool of myself in the meeting with the CEO? What if he wasn’t even interested in plan B—hiring me as a contract planner in Milwaukee? Then I had to go to plan C—continue on-site contract work while looking for a full-time planner or coordinator job in Milwaukee. Yet even embellished, my résumé wasn’t impressive. I had an “in” at Flanagan’s, and I’d landed the contract jobs thanks to Declan’s referrals.

  I sucked in a lungful of the vanilla-lavender scent and headed up to my guest room to stash my luggage. I stuck the key into the slot inside the door, and the lights clicked on. A red throw was draped across the bed’s white duvet. Black-and-white vintage photos of Dublin hung on the walls. I remembered the night Declan and I had done ancestry research in his room and had almost shared our first kiss. He’d given me his hotel toiletries for Martha’s women’s shelter. A small yet compassionate gesture. That was the moment I’d really started falling for Declan.

  He still hadn’t returned my call. He likely assumed I was in the air over the Atlantic right now and unavailable.

  I removed the Charles Bridge prints from my suitcase, making sure they hadn’t been damaged during the flight. They hadn’t fit in my carry-on bag with Declan’s sketch. I arranged all three on the desk, with the sketch in the middle. Should I tell Declan the prints were hot? He’d probably get a kick out of the story. Now he’d have the prints, and I’d have the sketch, to remember that pivotal moment in our relationship when he’d drawn my picture.

  I headed down to the lobby. I stepped outside and instinctively took a right down the sidewalk. I felt confident I wouldn’t need a map, unlike the time I’d escorted Brecker’s CEO’s wife to a sweater shop and feared we’d wander into a sketchy neighborhood.

  The scent of fish and chips drifted out from a takeaway place, and a lively Celtic tune poured out of a souvenir shop, along with two giggling girls in leprechaun hats and green boas. They reminded me of Zoe and me. Shops were already preparing for the onslaught of St. Paddy’s Day visitors. I’d stop on my way back for a Flannery pin and green boa and garter I could wear for the holiday celebration, and for Declan. I wasn’t sure how sexy he’d find the tutu Zoe had made me.

  My first stop would be Coffey’s pub to see if Gerry had a part-time job available in case the Flanagan’s position didn’t pay enough to support myself. I could learn to pull a pint or be a cocktail waitress. Rachel couldn’t get upset at me for asking Gerry for a job when she’d claimed they were merely friends. My sister taking the initiative to find a pub with our Coffey surname had been a step toward us reconnecting. I feared I’d set our relationship back several years. But I’d make it right again.

  I crossed a bridge over the Liffey, then headed down a side street away from the river. I encountered the green pub with gold lettering reading Coffey’s. My mouth watered for Taytos. I’d eaten all but three bags of Declan’s gift. Not in a touristy area, locals were stopping by after work for a pint. Soccer, rugby, and hurling team photos and memorabilia filled the walls.

  Gerry Coffey was behind the long wooden bar, serving pints of Guinness. He was fortyish—ten years older than Rachel—dark hair, blue eyes, and a five o’clock shadow. His brown Jameson T-shirt showed off his biceps. He wiped frothy beer foam from the side of a glass and cleaned his hand on his jeans. Not Rachel’s usual clean-cut businessman. She’d flirted the shirt off his back—a green Coffey’s Dublin T-shirt—since they’d had none for sale. Rachel had in turn given it to me. I smiled at the souvenir T-shirts now for sale behind the bar.

  Gerry spotted me, his eyes widening in surprise. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Caity Shaw.” He peered past me with a hopeful look.

  “She’s not with me. Sorry.”

  He smiled despite the disappointed glint in his eyes. “Jaysus, don’t be apologizing. It’s grand seeing ya.”

  I reached over the bar to shake his hand, and he drew me in, placing a kiss to each of my cheeks. “What brings ya to Dublin?”

  I spilled my guts about my arguments with Declan and Rachel. He had the right to know my sister might be ticked if he gave me a job. I didn’t want to cause a rift between them.

  “Normally, I’d listen to her,” I said. “I value her opinion and that she gave me this job, but this is something I have to do. I feel like if I don’t do it, I’ll regret it my entire life. You know what I mean?”

  “Aye, I do indeed.” He smiled, a reminiscent look on his face while he took a brief journey to Rachel-land. “The heart wants what the heart wants. Even if it gets broken.”

  If Rachel wasn’t going to throw this guy a bone, I was. “She really likes you. She just sucks at showing her feelings.” She was going to kill me, especially since I got upset when she stuck her nose in my relationship with Declan. I hadn’t done well in emotional situations either, until Declan. My learning about Shauna’s death had helped us both open up. “If I move here, she’ll come to visit.” I smiled, wanting to give us both hope. “Even if I do get the job, I’ll likely need a part-time one. You wouldn’t have one available, would you?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, luv. Nothing right now, but ya never know. How about your first lesson on how to pull a proper pint of Guinness so you’ll be prepared if a position comes up?”

  I smiled, stepping behind the bar with him. I grabbed a glass from the lower counter.

  “Jaysus, don’t be pouring a Guinness in that.” A guy in a blue rugby shirt gestured to the compet
itor glass in my hand.

  I exchanged it for a Guinness glass.

  Gerry gave me a wink.

  I held the glass under the Guinness tap.

  “Gold harp to the back,” the rugby guy said.

  I turned the glass around so the gold Celtic harp emblem was facing away from me.

  “At a forty-five-degree angle,” his buddy added.

  I eyed the guys. “Drank a few Guinness, have you?”

  Gerry laughed. “Fair play to ya. You could handle the lads here.”

  My gaze glued to the gold harp, I pulled the tap toward me. A hissing noise filled the air as the beer filled the glass. Gerry straightened the glass in my hand as I slowly eased up on the tap until the beer reached the gold harp. I set the glass on the bar. The beer settled, turning darker, a thick foam forming on the top.

  “Nitrogen is rising and the CO2 is dropping, creating the foam. Now push back to finish filling. No nitrogen is released.”

  “Wow, I never knew Guinness was so high tech.” I finished filling the glass.

  “Now, ya do a taste test,” the rugby guy said, holding up his pint.

  I clinked his glass. “Sláinte.”

  Gerry poured a pint and raised his glass. “Here’s to your new job.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was referring to Flanagan’s or that he saw a bartending job in my near future, so I drank to both.

  * * *

  I entered the Connelly Court Hotel, still warm from two pints of Guinness. I needed to practice my pitch and get a good night’s sleep so I was perky for my appointment. I’d already set my phone’s alarm, afraid I’d sleep for two days straight, I was so exhausted. I strolled through the lobby, taking in the vintage photos, calming scent, and…Declan, seated in a red corner chair.

  As if sensing my presence, he raised his gaze to mine, slowly standing. He held my gaze as he approached, a glint of caution in his blue eyes. My heart raced. My body grew even warmer. Only a few days since I’d seen him, but it felt like forever. He stopped just in front of me, and I opened my mouth to apologize but kissed him instead. I slipped my arms around his neck, and he slid his around my waist, drawing me against him.

  When the kiss became too steamy for a public lobby, I reluctantly drew back. “Rachel?” I said. That was the only way he could have known I was there. Had she called and asked him to talk me out of it?

  He nodded. “We thought you might be needing some moral support.”

  “Is there a difference between her support and her approval?”

  He shrugged. “She’s trying.”

  I smiled. “I was afraid she’d never speak to me again.” However, this didn’t mean she was speaking to me.

  “She’s not particularly happy how ya went about it, but she’s accepting the fact ya did it. You’ll be grand, make her proud.”

  I hoped so. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming here, but I didn’t want to leave it in a voicemail. Your meeting isn’t over, is it?”

  “I left due to a family crisis.”

  My heart did a little tap dance at Declan referring to me as family.

  “Must be nice. The only way Blair would have let me leave the meeting early would have been on a stretcher or in a straitjacket.”

  He gave me a sly grin. “They’ll want me back. It’s an American group, and they think my accent is cute.”

  That undoubtedly wasn’t all they thought was cute.

  “I’m sorry for wiggin’ out on the phone,” I said.

  He slipped his arms from my waist, capturing my hand in his. “I have to admit I was a wee bit surprised when ya mentioned moving to Ireland. I wanna see ya more. I just wasn’t prepared for ya to be living here so soon. One day, I’d hoped…but I’d love it to be now.” He brushed a finger across my blue scarf wrapped snuggly around my neck, his look turning serious. “And we might see each other even more.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I’ve been booking a lot of work because of my mortgage payments.”

  “You own a house?” I couldn’t believe he hadn’t told me about a house. That was major. Yet, I hadn’t confessed the magnitude of my debt. He knew I was always short on money since he’d had to float me a few bucks now and then.

  He nodded. “It’s between my parents’ and Dublin. Shauna and I lived there. I couldn’t bring myself to sell it after her death. The tenants moved out last year, and it’s vacant, so I’ve been needing extra quid to make the payments. I’m selling it so I won’t have to travel as much. Maybe buy a town house with a yard for a dog to run around, like Mr. MacCool.”

  Was he saying he wanted to live together? I didn’t want to rely on Declan for support. I needed to do this on my own. I wanted to spend more time with him, but moving in together would be a major step. I’d been prepared for him to leave stuff at my apartment. To give him a dresser drawer and bathroom counter space. But to live together?

  He arched a brow. “Right, then, now you’re the one acting freaked out.” He laughed. “I’m not saying we should live together, but it would be nice if you and Mr. MacCool might stay over now and then.”

  “Even if Matthew McHugh only goes for the contractor position, we’ll figure something out. Dublin is just a seven-hour flight from Chicago.”

  “And I have a shite-load of frequent flyer miles. But you’re not going to be needing a backup plan.” He glanced down at his finger still resting on my scarf, his smile fading. He raised his gaze, pain in his eyes. “It was a brain aneurysm. She just didn’t wake up one morning.” He sucked in a ragged breath, then eased it out.

  My eyes watered, and I swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m lucky to have the memories. I just need to learn not to hold on to some so fiercely.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond, since I agreed. It’d taken Declan a long time to open up to me about Shauna. But I also had never experienced and then lost the kind of love he had. I slipped my arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace.

  “How about we go practice your pitch?” he said softly.

  “Sounds good.”

  We rode the elevator up, our fingers laced, my head snuggled against Declan’s shoulder. He squeezed my hand, his skin warm against mine. We were staring at our hands molded together. He massaged a thumb over my skin, sending tingles up my arm. My breathing quickened, and a light flutter feeling tickled my chest.

  We weren’t going to my room to practice my pitch.

  Yet no gurgling or cramps seized my tummy.

  Maybe my previous physical reaction at the thought of making love with Declan had nothing to do with some underlying emotions regarding Andy. Maybe I’d needed Declan to open up more about Shauna. Needed to know that our relationship was moving forward. That it wouldn’t revolve around staying in touch via FaceTime while we only saw each other once every two months. Even if I wasn’t living in Dublin, Declan would be, and him traveling less would give us more opportunities to see each other. I shouldn’t immediately assume emotional issues were related to Andy.

  I was moving forward.

  We entered my room still holding hands. Declan turned to me with a steamy look that set my body on fire. He placed his hands on the sides of my hips and eased me up against the door. He gently touched his lips to mine. He slid a teasing tongue across my lower lip, then along my upper one before slipping it inside my mouth. After a leisurely kiss, he drew his head back slightly, gazing deep into my eyes, breathing heavily. He slowly unwrapped the scarf draped around my neck and tossed it to the side.

  I was going to self-combust! I curled my fingers into his sweater and drew him flush against me, locking lips. Our kiss deepened while we tugged off each other’s jackets, letting them fall to the floor. I pulled his sweater up over his head. I fanned my hands across his chest—his broad, incredible chest—then swept them down his arms, over his tattooed bicep. The Celtic symbol for love matched the symbol on his leather bracelet, which he wasn’t currently wearing for the
first time since we’d met.

  His fingers curled around the bottom of my sweater, grazing my bare skin, causing my breath to catch in my throat. I raised my arms over my head, and he peeled it off. He unzipped my jeans and hooked his thumbs around the waistband, slipping the pants down my legs, kneeling in front of me. I stepped from the jeans and stood there in my white lace bra and Póg Mo Thóin—Kiss My Ass—undies.

  Declan smiled at my undies. “Brilliant idea.”

  * * *

  I woke up in the middle of the night, snuggled against Declan’s warm, naked body. I placed a hand gently on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. As if to make sure this was for real and not merely a dream. I’d never felt such an overwhelming emotional connection to a guy. Or so peaceful, content, happy… It felt right that we’d waited until Ireland. When we were both relaxed and not stressed out by my crazy job.

  Our future was here.

  Declan stirred, letting out a soft moan. He rolled onto his side, draping an arm across me. I spooned against him, our bodies molded together like our hands had been on the elevator.

  “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear, sending tingles all over my body.

  “Love you too.”

  Part of me wanted to stay awake and savor the moment, but the other part was exhausted and needed to be fresh for my appointment. We’d have tomorrow night together, and many more. In the morning I was going to splurge on room service. Eggs and bacon would replace the romantic dinner I’d had planned in Prague. I smiled, recalling Declan’s story about walking in on the room service guy and the keynote speaker covered in the hotel’s chocolate soufflé. I closed my eyes. As I drifted back to sleep, I wondered if the Connelly Court Hotel had a signature dessert…