.
“Look at all this food,” she said when I got there. “All this, for one person. Allegedly. It’s crazy!”
Her small kitchen table was covered in food—dolmas, lamb shawarma, tabouli, falafel. “I hope you’re hungry. So . . . you said you went with Ian on a boat? When?”
“Today.”
“Today? What—did you get up at the ass-crack of dawn or something?”
I grabbed an olive and started to suck on it. “No, it was during work. He just came up to me and asked if I wanted to, like it was the most normal thing on the face of the planet to do. And . . . and we kissed.”
Her eyes widened and a grin broke out on her face. “You did?! I knew it! How was it?”
I bit into the olive, working the pit out. “It was really good. But . . . I really don’t know if I can do this.”
“What are you talking about?” Caroline asked. “Of course you can. I can tell that you like him, too. And this is the perfect way to get Noah to leave you alone. Once he sees that you’re involved with someone else, I bet he’ll back off. He’ll realize that there’s no point.”
“That’d be nice, but I don’t know if it’s going to be so simple,” I said. “And I just don’t know if I can be involved with someone like Ian.”
“But why? What are you so afraid of?”
What was I so afraid of? I wasn’t sure. I’d spent all weekend trying to figure it out, yet here it was, Sunday night, and I was no closer to getting to any sort of answer. “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t want to screw it up.”
Caroline did not look impressed. “So better to just not do anything? Better to just act like you’re completely not interested, even though a blind person could see that you are?”
“I know it sounds foolish. And stupid. But you should see him, Caroline. He gorgeous, but it’s more than that . . . he exudes this confidence like no one I’ve ever met before. It’s like it’s magnetic.”
“Yeah, would you like to know why it’s like that?”
“Yeah, I would, actually. I am totally not used to feeling this way toward anyone.”
“Because that’s basically your opposite.”
I sniffed. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m not saying you don’t have any self-esteem, but you constantly doubt yourself. Even over things that you know you can do.”
“I don’t mean to. I just kind of feel like he’s out of my league.”
I spit the olive pit out. “He’s absolutely not out of your league. You just need a little more confidence, is all.” She pushed the tub of tabouli toward me. “Have some of this,” she said.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said.
Chapter Eleven
Ian
Seamus McAllister was HTS’s biggest individual client, though I rarely had to deal with him directly; most often it was his son, Billy, that handled the fine print, such as booking us for things like the sister’s birthday party, or alerting me when a high profile guest could be expected at the poker club. Billy was also far more social than his father was, and didn’t have any qualms about stopping by the office if he was in the neighborhood, which was often enough since we weren’t too far from his favorite bar—I mean, pub—Failte. He was big into the day drinking.
We’d also been pretty good friends in middle school and high school—Billy and I—but then we just sort of drifted apart, though we had never completely lost contact, and once his father got in touch with me about providing security services, Billy picked things back up like we were teenagers again.
So I wasn’t too surprised to see him strolling into the office at eleven o’clock that Tuesday morning. I’d been on a call with the manager at one of the boatyards on the harbor we had a contract with, so my door had been partially closed, but I could hear Billy before he’d even come into the main office.
When I finally got off the phone a few minutes later and opened my door, I was greeted by the sight of Billy leaning with one leg propped up on Daisy’s desk, bent at the knee, his lower leg swinging.
“No, I know I’ve seen you before,” he was saying. “Look at me again.”
She turned her face toward him, and they held each other’s gazes, him squinting slightly, her with a slightly chagrinned look on her face.