I don’t remind him that he said it was a total waste of money.I don’t lose it because he told me showing was insane, to pay all that so I could win some twenty-five cent ribbons.I just smile and nod, as if he was always this super supportive guy.
We work out which days he’ll have the kids and when I will right before our sandwiches come.I eat at least half of mine—even with the mayo, it’s pretty dry—and then I let him pay.He’s the one who wanted to go over the calendar, after all.I’ve bid him a polite goodbye, thanked him for the meal, and escaped down the road, when I hear my name.
“Natalie?”
My brain wonders for a split second whether I forgot something.But no, when I turn on my heel, it’s not Mason calling me.
It’s Cillian.
Andmy word, he’s even hotter than I remember.He’s wearing a navy sweater and it makes his pale blue-green eyes look almost aquamarine.His hair’s a dark, dark blond, but it makes the lighter parts really stand out.He’s gotten it cut recently, so it’s still longish, but not weighed down.It kind of falls around his face effortlessly.I wonder, since he’s a guy, whether he obsesses over how it looks, or if guys really do have some kind of magic in which their hair always looks perfect without effort.
And while I’ve been staring at him, befuddled, he’s asked me something.
“I’m sorry?”
He’s reached me now, his grin turning into a full-fledged smile.“I asked where you were headed.”
I bob my head.“Right, just round the corner.The printer—McIlhaney.”
“Ah, I’m just past that.The cobbler next door.”
“No way,” I say.“People still use cobblers?”
Cillian’s smile evaporates, replaced by disbelief.“What else would you use if your shoe has a problem?”
I blink.“I just throw out shoes that have worn out and buy a new pair.”
“Not when you paid what I pay for them.”
Now that I glance down, his casual dress shoesdolook pretty nice.I grunt and start walking again.
Cillian moves alongside me, matching his pace to mine.“So what are you having printed?”
“Fliers.”I sigh.“Only, I’m not sure which of the mock-ups I should use.I might be too American to know what will appeal to people here.”
“What are the fliers for?”Cillian bumps me with his shoulder.“As your Irish friend, I’m happy to consult, for a small fee.”
We’ve reached the printer.“What kind of fee?”I drop a hand on my hip.“I’m a new business, you know, and the whole reason I’m doing this Halloween party is to try and boost business a little bit.Get people talking about us.”
“Boost business?Halloween party?”Cillian’s frowning now.“I hadn’t even heard about it.Have you been keeping it a secret as some kind of marketing ploy.”
I groan.
“Alright, alright, well, have you thought about inviting local businesses to sponsor your party?That would give them a reason to talk about it.”
“That’s brilliant.”I freeze.“If you think any of them would even be interested.”
“Of course they will.That’s what small business is all about—synergy.We have to pry every last euro from the tourists’ pockets while they’re here.”
“That’s what I need to put on the fliers.”
“The thing about taking the very last euro?”His brow furrows.
I laugh.“Um no, but the synergy thing.”I duck into the printer, wave at old man McIlhaney, and say, “Nevermind these mock-ups.I’m going another way.I’ll be back by tomorrow.”
He never has much to say, so I’m not even surprised when he just touches the brim of his grey tweed hat.
When I step back out, Cillian’s still there.“Isn’t the cobbler right there?”
