Unsure what to make of it all, she dashed to the mirror and stared down at her naked body. She didn't look any different, but somehow she felt different, and wondered if anyone would notice it, too.
“Oh great,” she groaned and ran her fingers through her matted red hair, and the mess of tangles that could only be attributed to rain and incredible sex.
Wishing for a magical cure for sex hair, she grabbed the robe from around her bedpost, wrapped it around herself, and dashed down the hall to the shower.
Later,as she arrived at the pub with her father, she was pleasantly surprised to see it already close to capacity. Every table and bar stool was filled by tourists, ordering traditional Irish breakfast, tea and, of course, the American favorite: piping hot coffee.
“Where's Daniel?” she hung up her coat and nodded to the young child at the table who cried out, “Mommy, it's Merida from Brave!”
“He should be in the back office. Why, are you looking to fight with him already?” her father asked as he gave her a wary glance, afraid that there would be some kind of scene.
“Don’t worry about it, there’s nothing for you to be concerned about,” she said, reaching to kiss her father's cheek and to soften the blow from telling him to mind his own business.
“If you say so,” he said as he made his way behind the bar and greeted the regulars.
After one last glance around the pub, she dodged a runaway toddler and headed towards the back office. The wooden floors creaked beneath her feet as she jogged, and when she reached the office, she had half a mind to knock, then felt ridiculous. It was her father's office, and soon it would be her office, regardless of what had happened between them last night, and she had just as much right to be in there as anyone else.
Resolved, Caitlin turned the brass handle and stepped into the small work space. It always felt like a second home to her. The soft leather chair sat, as it always had, behind her father's heavy desk. The desk itself was an antique, but was currently cluttered with photographs and invoices; and there, behind a very tall pile of inventory boxes, sat Daniel. He didn’t look at her as she stepped into the room, merely frowned over the glasses that hung low on his nose. She hadn't realized he'd worn them, and found it surprisingly sexy.
Clearing her throat, her heart pounded harder in her chest as those piercing blue eyes shifted to her.
“Cait,” he started and stared. His eyes seemed distant, as if he hadn’t quite come back from his thoughts.
A long moment passed before either of them spoke again.
“You left,” she stated, and crossed her arms over her body.
“I did.”
“Why did you leave?” she asked and closed the door with a snap before crossing the faded carpet to sit across from him.
“I wasn't sure how people would respond knowing that we had spent the night together.”
“Under the circumstances,” she said, with a small smile, “I think my father would be pleased.”
“Maybe,” his eyes sparked with amusement, “But why risk it?”
“You carried me to bed.”
“Well, I certainly couldn't leave you naked on your floor for your father to find, could I?”
Heat crept into her cheeks as vivid as her hair, and she fought to keep her voice cool, “I was surprised I slept through it.”
“Well, after round two, I think you were pretty worn out.” He winked, and sent her pulse humming again.
“Yes, I suppose so,” she murmured as he closed the folder he’d been reading, “So, where do we go from here?”
“As far as our relationship goes?” He reclined in the chair and pressed his hands together, angling his head as he watched her over his wire glasses. “Sounds like we're going to have a busy couple of days.” And gestured to the pile of paperwork on the desk. “I think perhaps we should focus on getting through this festival and whatever happens, happens.”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes at the calm, confident expression on his face. “Sorry, Daniel, that's not going to work for me,” she said with a defiant jut of her chin. “I don't share. I don't let men have me on my living room floor unless they intend to be permanent fixtures in my life; for the foreseeable future anyways. I’m not a one-night stand.”
“I never said you were,” he stated, his voice irritated. “Nor had I intended to imply it. I think we could be good together if we could ever stop bickering.” He paused, and leaned forward to write something down. “Because it has such a tumultuous history, I think it'd be wise of us to take things cautiously. A lot of history between the two of us, isn't there?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“So, we can't deny that this part of us works,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “We have to make sure that it would work out socially as well. Can't have our families invested in the union of the Kellys and Murphys just for it to burst into flames.”
“I suppose you're right,” she said, and looked away from him, taking in the small, cluttered office with its floor to ceiling bookshelves, faded red rug, and ever burning fireplace.
