‘Sounds interesting.’
‘Not really. It’s a bit of a disaster, actually. My great uncle left me his stately pile. And can I leave it at that?’ Izzy slumped a little and drained her glass. ‘Who’s for another?’
‘Let me get them,’ said Hannah, jumping to her feet, part of her wanting to prove to herself and to Conor that she was indifferent to him.
‘What would you like, Merry?’ She looked over to the bar. Conor was there chatting to the barman.
‘I’ll have a wine this time. Less volume. I’ll be peeing all night if I drink any more Guinness. To be honest, I’m not that keen. Still think it tastes like earwax.’ She nodded at her almost-full glass. ‘I’ll offer Jason the rest. He doesn’t seem the sort to be too fussy.’
As Hannah approached the bar, butterflies taking ridiculously over-enthusiastic flight in her stomach, she tried to school her face into a casual, fancy-seeing-you-here expression, as if she hadn’t noticed him before.
‘Hello, Hannah.’
‘Conor.’ She ignored the sudden tightening in her stomach. She could be civilised towards him. As far as she was concerned, they seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement that they would forget what had happened in Dublin, which suited her just fine.
‘Welcome to the hot spot of Inch. Night out?’ He looked beyond her and nodded to Meredith and Izzy.
She nodded. Suddenly tongue-tied, she couldn’t do more than look at his black-bristled chin. She saw his mouth curve into a knowing smile and wanted to sink through the floor. God, she was an idiot. Why hadn’t she let Izzy get the drinks? She was so obvious and then she was annoyed with herself. Straightening, she looked him in the eye, determined to show him she wasn’t the least bit bothered by his presence, even though her pulse was tripping the light fantastic at that very moment. What was it about him that sent her system haywire?
Honestly, she was barking up the wrong tree here; he couldn’t have made it plainer. She lifted her chin. ‘I guess this is the Friday night place to be, round here.’
‘It certainly is. Great craic.’
‘Seems it.’ She took the opportunity to look away from him and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see everything. ‘Busy.’
‘Another couple of weeks and it’ll thin out. The kids all go back to school next week and then everything starts to wind down.’
‘Ah, I wondered about Niamh helping out at the school.’
‘My niece? She just works in the summer. She’ll be back to getting the bus to Tralee every morning.’
She smiled at his pronunciation.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing, just the way you say it. It sounds different to the way I read it and I didn’t realise it was so close. Friends of mine from university lives there.’ And she really ought to give them a ring.
‘Yes, you Brits mangle our language. It’s quite amusing.’
‘I’m sure it is. Do you speak Irish?’ She’d been surprised by all the dual language signs.
‘Sadly not as well as I should. I’m a bit rusty, but Granny Bridget is the realgaeilgeoir. Irish speaker.’
‘What are you having?’ the barman interrupted.
‘Can I have three glasses of white wine?’
‘Sure you can. Anything for a fine thing like yourself. Where’ve you been all my life?’
Conor shook his head. ‘Barra O’Toole, can the blarney. She’s a guest up at the house and she’s not so foolish as to fall for your carry-on.’
‘Jaysus, you big spoilsport, Conor. Keeping her for yourself I’ll mind and when you already have a stream of women panting after you.’ He tutted with a good-natured roll of his eyes. ‘Honest to God, he’s just plain greedy.’ He grinned at Hannah. ‘Three glasses of white wine, coming up. How long are you here for?’
‘Six weeks. This is my first week.’
‘Plenty of time to get to know you then.’ He winked and moved to the back of the bar to grab three glasses.
‘Ignore him,’ said Conor. ‘He’s a player.’
