"Yes." Mick smiled down at her, brown eyes warm and inviting. "But I also do power lifting. I have exactly one move: pick something heavy up over my head and drop it again."
"I'd say you've got more than one move," Irina said dryly, and to her delighted surprise, color scalded Mick's cheekbones. "Oh, come on! You can't possibly imagine you're not charming and attractive."
"It wouldn't be my first way of describing myself, no. 'Walking wall.' 'Giant lump of a man.' 'Feck, he's big.' That would be more what I'd say."
"Hey." Irina frowned up at him. "Don't do that. Don't get down on yourself. How we talk to ourselves is how we start thinking about ourselves, and you're obviously great, so don't be mean to you."
She should probably take a little of her own medicine, and stop thinking she didn't belong in an international dance competition, but before she could scold herself, Mick's smile blossomed again, shyer than before. "Little but fierce, are ye?"
"I am," Irina said with determination. "So don't make me have to tell you again."
"Aye, aye, ma'am." Mick actually saluted, then went below in the boat to find both a sweater and a life vest for Irina, as well as a vest for himself. "Will we take her out?"
"I don't know, will w—oh, wait, I mean, yes!" Irina beamed. "I'm learning Irish."
Mick laughed. "You're learning Hiberno-English, anyway."
"What on earth does that mean?" Irina asked as they began preparing the boat for launch.
"The Roman word for Ireland was Hibernia, which I think meant 'you'll freeze your feckin' tits off.'" As Irina shouted withlaughter, Mick grinned and admitted, "It meant 'land of winter,' anyway. And for some reason when the differences between Irish-influenced English and British English started getting talked about, we called it Hiberno-English. Naturally."
"Naturally," Irina agreed. It was tricky navigating getting out of the docks, at least for someone who hadn't sailed in several years. Mick was confident, though, and within several minutes they were out on the water, wind driving them merrily toward the mouth of the river. "I do need the sweater, so thank you."
"Anything for you," Mick said cheerfully. "Are you warm enough now?"
Irina considered saying she was frozen to the bone, just because she hoped Mick would pick her up like a teddy bear and snuggle her. But she was actually fine, so she thought she'd better hold off on the freezing line until she really was. "I'm good for now, thanks. This is beautiful," she added wistfully. "I'd forgotten how much I liked sailing." The water was a little choppy from the wind, reflecting deep blue and grey all around them, with green tints nearer to the shore. Dozens of other sailboats were out, dotted across the harbor and river mouth like oversized whitecaps against the blue, and the air smelled fresh and clean. "You'd like Sequim," she said dreamily. "We sail like this there, too. Different landscape, though. Big mountains, instead of your hills."
"Hey now," Mick said, like he was trying to sound offended. "We've mountains! Proper ones!"
"How tall is Ireland's tallest mountain?"
"A thousand meters!"
Irina did a quick calculation in her head and laughed out loud. "Oh. Yes. That's a very nice mountain, I'm sure."
"Why, what's Washington's tallest mountain?" Mick asked, indignant.
"Mt Rainier. I don't know what it is in meters, but it's about fourteen and a half thousand feet. That's…" Irina squinted toward the sky. "I don't know, like maybe four and a half thousand meters?"
"Oh." Mick visibly took that in, then chuckled, his broad shoulders shaking. "All right, I see your point about Carrauntoohil, then. Christ, everything's bigger in the States, isn't it?"
"Not me!"
"You," Mick said warmly, "areperfectthe size you are."
Irina ducked her head and blushed. "Um. Thanks. I was always annoyed I didn't grow another three inches taller, to be honest."
"Maybe you've got a late-stage growth spurt ahead of you yet!"
"I'm twenty-three," she said, amused. "I doubt it."
"I think I grew another couple centimeters when I was about twenty-five," Mick said, not as if he expected her to suddenly do the same, but as an idle bit of conversation. "Or maybe I just got broader. I got bigger, anyway."
"I've known a couple of boys who finished growing in their twenties," Irina agreed. "None of them as tall as you. Hopefully you're not going to get another inch taller when you're, what, thirty?"
He glanced her way, eyes sparkling. "Is that a subtle way of asking what age I am?"
"Not subtle enough, apparently!"
