NATHAN AMBLED FROM stall to stall in the English Market at the city center of Cork without actually seeing the veritable treasure trove of locally produced specialties and imported delicacies.
The raw ingredients being sold were so fresh he could almost taste the ripe fruits, the greenest vegetables, and the most pungent cheeses just by looking at them. But none of that mattered. Even the market’s arched ceiling that let in natural light, the beautifully tiled floor, and the soothing central fountain might as well not be there from his lack of enthusiasm. So much for enjoying this leg of the trip. One snag and everything went down the drain. Again.
Insert laugh track here. He had been willing to let Paris go. One mistake like that was understandable. But Ireland, too? What the hell kind of luck did he have? Had someone cursed him in a previous life or something?
He hated himself for dwelling. Sure, he hadn’t been able to kiss the Blarney Stone. It wasn’t the end of the world. He should be on cloud nine over Preston caring enough to talk him out of a panic attack. But no. He couldn’t get past his foiled plan.
Preston had just moved to a stall selling freshly made pasta when the catchy melody of Maroon 5’s “Payphone” emanated from his pocket. Knowing who it was without looking at the caller ID, he took out his phone and waved at Preston. When their eyes met, he mouthed “Natasha,” and Preston nodded before engaging in conversation with the girl manning the stall.
* * *
“Hi,” Preston said, smiling at the pretty girl, who couldn’t have been older than he was.
“What can I do for yah?” she asked in the lilting Irish accent that sounded … nice. He didn’t really have the proper word for it, but it made him feel at ease.
“I like your accent.”
She blushed and giggled. “I betcha say that to all the girls.”
The way she said “girl” sounded as if it had an e instead of an i.
Charmed, Preston cleared his throat and said, “I just meant the Irish speak beautifully.”
“Then you should hear us sing.”
He leaned in closer. “I was wondering if you can help me.”
“Sure.”
“You see that guy over by the fountain?” He pointed over his shoulder at Nathan, and she nodded. “He’s had a rough day, and I’m trying to find a special place for us to eat.”
“Ah.” Her smile changed to an all-knowing one as she nodded.
* * *
With a heavy sigh, Nathan sat on the lip of the fountain and accepted the video call.
“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked as soon as her pretty face came into focus.
He rolled his eyes. “If you’re not careful, those worry lines on your forehead will turn into wrinkles.”
“Don’t change the topic.” Although she did rub a fingertip over the pucker created by the meeting of her plucked eyebrows. “My twin power has been tingling all day. Since you’re clearly still alive, my senses are reacting to something else.”
Another sigh escaped Nathan. “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect we have gypsy in our blood. Between Mom’s powers of perception and your uncanny ability to know when I’m upset, I just can’t hide anything anymore.”
“Is that a fountain behind you?” She squinted those bright blue eyes that were a shade lighter than his.
“We’re at the English Market.”
“So, what’s gotten you so deflated?”
“I’m surprised your superpower hasn’t told you about it yet.”
Natasha pouted. “Spill or so help me I will take the next flight out just so I can give you a good smack.”
Knowing his twin never made idle threats, he gave in and said, “Kissing the Blarney Stone was a bust.”
“Didn’t I tell you that your fear of heights would be a problem?”
He shook his head. “It’s actually not that.”
“Then what?”
“Preston went first, and when I saw him leaning over the edge, this irrational thought of him falling to his death triggered a panic attack. All I could think was if he fell I wouldn’t be able to tell him how I felt and that if he ever needed my help I wouldn’t be able to save him. It’s silly and stupid and I’m so upset I’d smack myself for you. I think we’re just going to be friends forever.”
Her features softened to an expression of sympathy. “Oh, Nate, I’m so sorry. That must have been so scary for you.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“And here I thought my whole crazy lady speech about ‘love is acid’ was what scared you off.”
“Oh, you did scare me there for a second. Believe me.”
She flashed her most charming smile. It lit up her entire face from the inside out. “This trip isn’t over yet. Let the Blarney Stone go. I hear they piss on it anyway.”
“Eww!” His face scrunched up in disgust. Then his gaze wandered to Preston, who was standing pretty close to the girl Nathan had left him with. Preston said something, and she giggled. Nathan’s grip on the phone tightened.
“What’s with the murderous expression?”
Distracted by Preston and the girl and thoughts of how good they looked together, he had forgotten that he was on a call with his sister.
“Preston,” he said between clenched teeth.
“What about him?”
“I have to go.” He ended the call and scowled just as Preston ambled his way.
“How’s Tash?” he asked when he reached the fountain.
“She’s pretty,” Nathan said instead, nodding toward the girl at the pasta stall.
“Margot actually—”
“Margot?” He said the name like it was a curse word.
The swimmer looked over his shoulder and she waved at them, smiling. Preston waved back.
“Will you stop it!” Nathan snapped.
Preston returned his attention to him. “What’s with the tone?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Usually a call with Tash puts you in a good mood. Something happen?”
Oh, something did happen. “I thought you didn’t flirt. That love and romance were beneath you?”
A tic began along Preston’s jaw. “Who said anything about being against love and romance? I’m not Caleb. I’m just busy.”
“Just admit that you were flirting back there.”
“Fuck.” Preston pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I wasn’t flirting. I was asking her if she knew of a place where we can have dinner.”
“What?” All urges to kill dissipated.
“She said there’s this pub a block away that serves the best steak and Guinness pie.”
“Pub?” Nathan’s eyebrow arched.
“Feeling stupid now or what?”
Not wanting to reach the point where another fight would break out—because God only knew their conversation was headed that way—Nathan got to his feet and said, “Well, lead the way to this pub.”
* * *
The brick-and-mortar facade of the pub blended in with the other buildings on either side of it, tucked away on a quiet street south of the English Market. An all-caps neon sign spelled out LUCKY’S in green. Preston trailed Nathan inside as a gust of wind forced them to rush. The temperature had dropped with the sun.
They looked around the simple entryway. There was a stained-glass window on one side that looked out to nowhere. Beside it was a frame with a man in a uniform saluting and the words IF YOU ARE AN IRISHMAN, YOUR PLACE IS WITH YOUR CHUMS UNDER THE FLAGS. Indeed the saluting man stood beneath an assortment of flags in the picture. And below the frame was a sign that read: GUINNESS SINCE 1759. At the other wall was a tile mosaic that featured different bottles of beer.
“Well, hello!” A woman with flaming-red hair sashayed toward them wearing a half apron over faded jeans. Her black T-shirt stretched over massive breasts. To say she was curvy underestimated the full package. “Welcome to Lucky’s. I’m Gwen.”
“Hello,” Preston said. “Margot over at the English Market—”
“Come for my famous steak and Guinness pie, have yah?” Her smile was just as wide as Margot’s.
“Yes,” Nathan said. “We would like a table for two, please.”
Her gaze moved between them. “Americans?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Preston nodded. “We’re here for the rest of the week.”
“Well, then.” She smoothed her hands over her apron. “It’s not every day we get such a handsome couple in here.”
“Oh, we’re not—” Nathan began to say.
Preston put his arm around Nathan’s shoulders. “See, honey. I told you we weren’t lost. He’s been in a mood all day.”
“Well, we can sure fix that here.” Gwen poked Preston on the shoulder. “You two make a darling couple. I knew the instant you walked in. Well, come, come, I have a table waiting for you.”
She turned and, with a sway of her hips, walked away.
“What the hell are you doing?” Nathan whisper-hissed. His eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets.
One thing Preston hated more than being unable to swim was seeing Nathan mope. Since Blarney Castle, Nathan had had a frown on his face. If pretending to be his boyfriend shifted his mood, then Preston would go with it until he got a smile. Maybe even a laugh.
“Smell that?” Preston sniffed the air. Scents of barley mixed with sautéing garlic and onions and all the good things a person could eat and drink. “I love this place already.”
He ushered Nathan after Gwen into the dark-wood interior. A massive bar took up half the floor area. The space wasn’t big at all, giving the place a cozy atmosphere. The wood gleamed around them, set off by soft lighting coming from an iron chandelier. Gwen stopped at a table nestled in a warm corner, surrounded by magnificent stained-glass windows.
* * *
Nathan reluctantly took a seat. Every inch of his body seemed aflame.
“Now, will you let me order for you?” Gwen asked. “I have a special meal I have planned for lovebirds.”
Nathan barely stifled a flinch at the word lovebirds as Preston nodded, thanking Gwen. It was ironic that the glass windows depicted couples in amorous embraces while Nathan inwardly freaked out about Preston pretending to be his boyfriend. Where had that come from? It was like the universe was mocking him.
When the words “green beer” left Gwen’s lips, his attention returned to the conversation. “I’m not drinking tonight, thank you.”
“We can make it out of ginger ale if you prefer.”
He nodded as she finished jotting down the order, then sauntered away. Preston shrugged out of his jacket and leaned back, taking in the place.
Not knowing what to do with the silence between them that wasn’t exactly awkward but wasn’t entirely comfortable either, Nathan asked, “What did Gwen order for us?”
A delectable smirk gave Preston’s features a roguish edge. “Steak and Guinness pie, of course. Then Irish coffee and Guinness cake for dessert.”
At the mention of Guinness, Nathan groaned. “You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you? Just admit it.”
“It’s just the Irish coffee. The alcohol in the Guinness is burned away in the cooking process. You won’t get more than a buzz.” Preston reached across the table and brought Nathan’s knuckles to his lips.
Nathan pulled his hand away as if burned, despite the ripple of pleasure running all over his body. “Stop it.”
“What?” he asked.
“Stop making an ass of yourself.”
“That’s not—”
“Here yah go,” Gwen said, interrupting the rest of what Preston was saying as she set down two heaping plates of her famous steak and Guinness pie and what looked like gallon-sized pints of the green beer and green ginger ale.
“Enjoy,” she said jovially, and left them to their dinner.
Nathan waited for Preston to finish what he had been about to say, but the other boy’s attention was fully captured by all the food.
Preston brought a forkful of beef into his mouth and closed his eyes. “Mmm. This is so good.”
Amazed by his reaction, Nathan brought his own spoon to his mouth. He all but forgot that their previous conversation had been left unfinished. The meat was so tender it almost melted on his tongue. The stew was thick with the taste of onions and rosemary and thyme. His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head the moment he tasted the robustness of the Guinness. Preston was right, damn it! The alcohol was gone, but the creamy, spicy flavor of the brew remained. It was like coffee and chocolate mixed together with Worcestershire sauce. Sounded disgusting, but was actually good.
“I wasn’t making an ass of myself.” Preston took a long draft of his beer.
“I’m sorry?” Nathan tilted his head.
“Earlier, you said I was making an ass of myself.”
Ah, what was left unsaid before the food came. “And what do you call all that?”
“An attempt to make you smile.”
The green ginger ale went down the wrong pipe, causing Nathan to lapse into a coughing fit that prevented an answer. Good thing too, because he had no idea how he should respond.
“From the looks of your plates, it’s safe to say you like the food,” Gwen said as she swapped their empty dishes for a single slice of Guinness cake and two glasses of Irish coffee with whipped cream on top. “Are you all right, m’dear?”
Nathan coughed one more time, then squeaked out, “Fine. Just fine.”
“Well, dessert is on the house.”
“Gwen, you’re so sweet,” Preston said, picking up a fork and taking a bite of the cake.
She giggled. “You two just look so adorable. I can’t help myself.”
Nathan shifted in his seat, unable to meet anyone’s gaze until Preston’s fork, with the morsel of cake, hovered just below his lips. He glanced at Preston, who had been smiling from ear to ear.
“Here you go, honeybuns. The first bite is for you.”
“Excuse me,” Nathan said, slapping his hands on the table and standing up fast.
“Something wrong?” Gwen asked, concern all over her round face.
“I need to—need to use the restroom,” he stammered out, not looking at Preston.
“Over by the back.”
She hadn’t finished gesturing before Nathan ran toward the illuminated sign with male and female stick figures. It was a coed bathroom, he realized when he pushed in and locked the door. Not really needing to relieve himself, he stumbled to the sink. He pushed up the tap and cupped his hands under the running water. Then he splashed his overheated face.
Breathing hard, droplets streaming down his cheeks, he stared into the mirror. He couldn’t get the words an attempt to make you smile out of his head. Clearly all of Preston’s pretending had come from a good place. Right? So he shouldn’t be pissed. But for a moment there, just a tiny moment, he’d wanted all of it to be real.