“A shy Irish lass,” I said playfully. “And yet a spitfire when gotten alone.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “If I was such a spitfire, why did you sneak off in the middle of the night?”
“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” I asked, my shoulders going up and down. “It was a one-night stand, after all. I thought I’d save you the awkwardness of waking up with me. That whole ‘walk of shame’ thing I mean.”
“Guys don’t do the walk of shame?” she asked.
I grunted a laugh. “Rarely. Only if they wake up with a woman who looks like a dude in drag. And even then, they’ll probably go back for more.” I looked over and winked. “Men are pigs, remember.”
“Oh, I know that for a fact,” she said. “Some men more than others.”
I cut my eyes at her. “Be honest with me. Was that your first one-night stand or do you do that sort of thing all the time?”
She held the gloves between her hands in her lap and picked lint from them. “Honestly, that was the first and only one-night stand I’ve ever had. I had never done anything like that before. It’s really not who I am… I mean… well… you know what I mean.”
“So why did you do it with me?” I asked. “I mean, I was flattered, and boy, did I have a great time. But what made you take me home that night?”
“Are we fishing for compliments, Mr. McGee?” she asked, cocking one eyebrow.
“No, just trying to understand how Mollie the paralegal’s mind works,” I said. “And to see if Katie the lawyer thinks the same way.”
“I’m going away with you for the weekend, aren’t I?” she said shyly. “This is almost like a one-night stand. I mean, I don’t really know you any better now than I did the first night we met.”
“Okay, then let’s get to know each other,” I said, nodding with my eyes on the road.
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“Easy. You ask me a question, I’ll answer it, then it’s my turn to ask you. You can ask anything you want, and the other person has to answer. By the time we arrive at my house we’ll be like old friends. I’ll even let you go first.”
She seemed to like the idea of playing a game. She turned sideways in the seat and tapped one finger to her chin.
“Okay, let’s see, you told me last night you were born in upstate New York. Tell me about your parents.”
“Okay… My dad’s name is Edgar, he is a retired CPA. My mom’s name is Louise, and she is a retired school teacher. They still live in the house I grew up in outside of Rochester.”
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“Are you still close with them?”
“I am still very close with them,” I said proudly. “I was the only child and they doted on me. We weren’t rich, so there wasn’t a lot of material spoiling, but lots of hugs and kisses and support. My mom especially. She was very religious, Irish Catholic. She was the one who gave me the old ‘you can be anything you wanna be’ speech, so long as you go to church on Sunday and say your prayers.”
“And do you?”
Do I what?”
“Go to church on Sunday and say your prayers?”
I shrugged. “I only go to church when I go back home, and probably don’t pray as much as I should. I’m more like my old man. He was the one who gave me the ‘work your ass off to get ahead’ speech.”
“Ah, I’ve heard that one,” she said, head bobbing. “Our parents sound a lot alike.”
“Okay, my turn,” I said. “You’re from South Boston. I assume from a large Irish family?”
“Irish… South Boston… do the math.”
“Tell me about your family.”
“Well, let’s see, my dad’s name is Sean, and he owns an Irish pub in Southie.”