One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

7

The next few days pass by in a blur as I throw myself into the packed itinerary of everything Kilgorm has to offer, determined to distract myself. I power my way through archery, sip attentively at beer tasting and finally succumb to a very long bubble bath in the freestanding tub. I don’t speak to Declan again. I don’t speak to him because I barely see him. He comes briefly to the wedding rehearsal, hitting his marks and saying his lines but other than that he seems to have been let off the hook of any family commitments and appears neither for the activities during the day or the dinners at night. And though no one else remarks on it, it’s noticeable. And I can’t help but think it’s because of me.

It’s only when I corner Annie at lunch one day does she confirm that I’m right.

“He said he’s going to stay in the village to make things easier for you. You and him,” she clarifies as we sit in a couple of large leather armchairs in the lounge. She bites into her sandwich and a handful of lettuce and tomato falls to her plate. “Apparently when his mom gets something into her head, she doesn’t let it go. Declan says he doesn’t want to run around after her while she plays matchmaker.”

“Mary and I already cleared the air about that. She said she’d stop.”

“I know but he doesn’t believe her. Paul said he’s not a big fan of family gatherings anyway so it’s not a big deal.” She wipes a dollop of mayonnaise from her chin, looking at me curiously. “Is that okay with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just seem a little… upset.”

“I’m fine.” But the words come too quickly, sounding false even to me.

Annie puts her sandwich down, smiling gently. “Don’t tell me you want to break your famous one-night-only rule? God forbid you form an attachment to someone.”

“That’s such an exaggeration,” I say, uncomfortable. “I don’t have a rule.”

“Don’t you? Have you even been on a second date with someone since Josh?”

I glance up in surprise. Annie goes quiet, realizing her mistake.

We don’t talk about Josh. No matter how many years have passed.

“What I mean,” she starts again, “is that you act like it’s your mission to close yourself off to people even when you like them.”

“What is with everyone turning into a therapist this week?”

“I’m not trying to be your therapist,” she says patiently. “It’s just that—”

“I’m fine,” I interrupt. “Declan and I had a good time together and that’s all we had and we both understand that. We’re adults. The only thing that is making it complicated is whatever family drama I’ve stumbled into. If he wants to stay away, that’s his choice, but all I’m saying is that he doesn’t need to for my sake.”

“Because you’re fine.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll ask Paul to mention it to him,” she says and I sit back, relieved. “But now we’re on the subject of your dating life—”

“That was never the subject.”

“Is there anyone you like? Anyone at work? What about that guy you sit with?”

“Will?” I laugh at the thought. “No. Will doesn’t swing that way and even if he did, we’d have the least romantic connection possible. He’s more like a brother.”

“And no one else?”

Unexpectedly, I think of Matthias but immediately banish him from my mind. It’s too messy to even contemplate.

“Not really,” I say. “But it’s fine. I’m fine. Besides a few hiccups I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“That’s good,” she says with a sigh. “Sometimes I feel so out of the loop with things back home.”

“Enjoy it.” I smirk. “You won’t be able to escape me when you get back.”

Her gaze softens. “Thank you for being so cool with this. All of it. Coming all the way over here and then having to deal with Paul’s mom and Declan…” She trails off. “Who knows? You two might even become friends.”

I tear off a piece of bread, dipping it into the now cold soup. “Let’s not go that far.”

More dinner. More drinks. How did people do this in the olden days? I mean sure it was the only source of entertainment in their Wi-Fi-less lives, but it’s exhausting. At least in a club, it’s dark and everyone is drunk enough that it doesn’t matter how you act or who you act with. But there are no shot glasses here. No thumping bass or strobe lighting, only brightly lit rooms and music that seems to get faster and faster until the world spins all night long whether you want it to or not.

As Mary more or less confirmed, I had been at the reject table that first night. And while I’ve noticed a difference these past few days, it’s nothing compared to the party that night. With only two days to go before the wedding, most of the guests have arrived for a long weekend and no sooner do I enter the ballroom than a hundred million people (give or take) come up to me with warm smiles and strong handshakes. My cheek is kissed a dozen times and though it’s a little overwhelming, I’m delighted with it too. Delighted they all seem to love Annie as much as I do. But man, is it hard to keep up with. Some have thicker accents than others and it’s not easy when they talk over each other, which is most of, if not all of, the time. Sometimes it’s a struggle to understand what they’re saying, let alone answer appropriately, but I get the gist of it. That I am welcome. That they are happy to have me and will I have another glass?

Connor lingers by my side a little longer than necessary, taking great pains to fetch me drinks and introduce me to the endless stream of people. He isn’t pushy about it though and while there are a few sly jokes, he mostly treats me as Paul’s special guest. Eventually, even he leaves to say his hellos and I’m relieved to escape to the opposite wall, facing the dance floor where older couples and groups of small children move with varying degrees of skill to the live band.

I spend a few minutes simply watching them, enjoying the pleasant buzz in the air and the happy look on Annie’s face as she’s taught by several hyper eight-year-olds how to do an Irish jig.

An hour into the evening, Connor catches my eye across the room and makes a drinking motion with his hand. I’m trying to think of an appropriate sign for rum and Coke when his attention shifts to someone next to me. His smile drops.

“Heard you were missing me.”

I stiffen as Declan settles against the wall beside me, appearing as though out of nowhere. It’s an effort not to stare at him, dressed in a dark-gray suit, his hair suspiciously tidy, as though he just had it cut.

I hate the little stutter my heart gives at the sight of him, but I tell myself it’s normal. Of course I find him attractive. It’s the reason I slept with him in the first place and a few days and several thousand miles aren’t going to make any difference to that.

To my extra embarrassment, he notices my appraisal. “I scrub up well, don’t I?”

“I didn’t know you could dress yourself.”

“I didn’t. The man in the suit shop did. Terry is his name. Nice guy.”

He’s in a much better mood than he was in the last time I saw him. The best mood I’ve seen him in since I got here and suddenly, I find myself a little tongue-tied.

“I meant to say something to you at Mick’s,” he continues. “I was actually on my way here to apologize for the other night but then there you were, stealing from a small-business owner and looking like a drowned rat. That’s not to say I was doing much better. I was incredibly hungover. We’re talking rough as a badger’s arse—”

“I get it,” I interrupt. “Apology accepted.”

“I just don’t want you to think I was avoiding you.”

“I didn’t,” I lie.

“Great. In that case, do you want to dance?”

I shoot him a glance to see if he’s joking. “Not right now.”

“You want to get a drink?”

“Connor’s getting me a drink.”

“Connor?” Declan follows my gaze across the room to where his cousin watches us with a sour expression. “I see.”

“No, you don’t see,” I say, annoyed at the implication in his tone.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me?”

“Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean I have to like you,” I say. “And I don’t not like you. I don’t know you.”

“I think you know parts of me pretty well actually.”

My face heats at his words. “Feel free to leave at any point.”

“But Paul told me you wanted to see me.”

“I never said—” I break off at the smile on his face. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll try anyway.” He waits but I stay quiet, not knowing what to say that won’t end in an argument. I sigh inwardly as a silence stretches between us. I was much more eloquent when I spoke with him in my head.

“So, tell me, Sarah,” he continues politely. “How are you finding it on our fair isle?”

“It’s very pretty.”

“That’s it? No sentimental feelings about returning to the land of your ancestors?”

“My ancestors were French and Dutch.”

“Really?” He looks surprised. “You don’t have any Irish in you?”

“Nope.”

“Would you like some?”

My head whips toward him and he smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Oldest one in the book.”

“I’m going now.”

“Oh, come on.” He laughs. “I’m trying here. The least you can do is talk to me a bit longer. I’m making several men jealous right now. Or one at least.” He waves at Connor who’s still in line for the bar.

“Stop that,” I hiss.

“Stop what?” He’s enjoying this far too much.

“You think I’m playing a game right now? Just because I’m the single girl at the wedding doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with someone.”

Declan turns to me immediately, all joking vanished. “I never thought that,” he says.

I can’t decide if I’m embarrassed or annoyed. Maybe a bit of both. Declan must sense he’s taken a wrong turn because he falls quiet, glancing around the room as though searching for a distraction.

“You’re sure you don’t want to dance?”

“Yep,” I say as Annie looks our way.

“So we’re just going to stand awkwardly at the side of the room?”

“I don’t feel awkward and I’m not dancing with you.”

“Fine. Glower in the corner.” He turns serious again when I don’t budge, holding out his hand. “Dance with me. Please. Smile for your friend and I’ll smile for my brother and then you can go back to ignoring me. Or pretending to at least.”

I want to say no. Whatever’s happened to me tonight, his sudden appearance has thrown me and I can’t help but think that the more time I spend with him, the pettier I’ll be. It’s like he brings out all my worst traits. But Annie looks like she’s one second from marching over here and now Paul is watching us too, as if they think we’re about to cause a scene.

The thought makes me feel even worse. “One song,” I say, shoving myself away from the wall.

“Yes, ma’am.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he sounded relieved.

We join the others on the makeshift dance floor. Our bodies are a little too close together for my liking, but he keeps his touch featherlight on my waist, moving us with a confidence that surprises me. He doesn’t try and make any further conversation; he doesn’t even look at me. His gaze roves purposefully on the other members of the floor, even going so far as to chat with people around us before we move away again. All the while, he steers me smoothly around the other couples, never missing a beat.

As we complete our second turn of the room, I have to break my silence; the suspicion is too great.

“You know how to dance?” I finally ask, trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

He smiles like I haven’t been sulking for the last few minutes. “I do.” And as if he’s been waiting for the opportunity, he immediately swings me around, making me stumble in surprise. “You’re not one of those people with two left feet, are you?” he asks as he steadies me.

“No. You caught me off guard.”

“Ah.” He dips me without warning and I yelp as I go down, my hair brushing the floor. The couple next to us laugh and he brings me swiftly back up.

“So I have a confession to make,” he says before I can catch my breath. “I came here tonight with an ulterior motive. Not a romantic one,” he adds at the look on my face. “Though it’s a real ego boost to know the idea of a second date with me can inspire such panic.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I wanted to ask you a favor,” he interrupts. “A work favor.” Another swing. This time I keep up with him.

“I’m renovating a cottage,” he continues. “Well, several of them actually but I’m starting with one.”

A cottage? My interest piques as I picture those cute little houses on the postcards I bought.

“And I was wondering if I could pick your brain. Professionally speaking of course. I could take you to the site, show you around.”

“When?” I ask. “I’m leaving the day after the ceremony.”

“How about tomorrow? It’s not far. We can go straight after breakfast.”

Do you want to get some breakfast?

His words from the other morning echo in my mind along with the sudden memory of him naked in my bed. I blink the image away as an unexpected heat steals over me.

“Sarah?”

“Sure.”

Declan’s grip on my hand tightens momentarily. He’s surprised by my response. Probably because he expected me to say no. “Great,” he says smoothly. “What’s your fee?”

“I’m not going to charge you.”

“Even better then.”

The song finally comes to an end and I use the excuse to step away from him, no longer able to meet his eye.

Annie hurries over to us, a too bright smile on her face. “Is everything okay?”

“Perfect,” Declan says, though he looks a little confused by my sudden awkwardness. “Sarah’s agreed to help me with a project tomorrow.”

“You did?” Annie looks relieved. She wants us to get along. “That’s wonderful.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

After a moment, Declan holds his hand out to Annie. “Come on then,” he says. “Let’s see how those Irish dancing moves are coming along.”

I smile encouragingly at her as he walks her to the floor, leaving a lot more space between the two of them than he had with me. They smile easily at each other, laughing every few minutes. There’s no charged energy or any other kind of… tensions.

Connor approaches with my drink and I do my best to be good company, but my mind is on tomorrow and the thought of spending several hours alone with Declan. A romantic outing to some idyllic cottage with a dark-haired stranger (okay, so he’s definitely not a stranger) is exactly the kind of thing Claire would go nuts over. And no doubt exactly what Mary would want us to do together. Did she put Declan up to this?

Am I growing paranoid?

I feel like I am.

My one-night-only rule isn’t exactly set in stone but Annie’s right. I don’t form attachments. Not since Josh. I haven’t even felt the want to since Josh.

I take a long sip of my drink, remembering the warm press of Declan’s fingers as he swung me around the floor, and wonder just what kind of mess I’ve got myself into.