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“Perfect,” Iris said with a smile. “And a food menu would be great.”
“Sure thing.” The woman turned and nodded to a passing server, who immediately crossed over and handed them menus. Iris was right. This woman was the conductor. “My name is Cait, and this is my pub. I’m happy to recommend any dishes. Are you two on holiday then?”
“Oh, we’re not a…” Iris immediately interjected, looking up from where she paged through the menu.
“We’ve only just met,” Kane said with a smile. “I gave her a lift from the airport. I’ll be staying a few months for work, and Iris is visiting.”
“That’s grand, then. It’s always nice to make new friends. If you stay in town long enough, soon everyone will be your friend. We’re a tightknit bunch here, and if you want to hear any of the local gossip, this is the spot for it,” Cait said. “Now…for food?”
“I’d love some of the potato soup and a side salad,” Iris said, and Kane realized he needed to put in an order as well.
“Whatever’s on special is fine for me,” Kane said, suspecting a Saturday night special would likely be any type of typical Irish fare.
“That’s a Shepherd’s pie for you, then. Bailey’s Irish cream cheesecake for dessert.” With that, Cait snagged their menus, disappearing just as quickly as she’d arrived.
“You’re right. She’s the conductor,” Kane agreed.
“But you see how she never made us feel rushed or pressured to order? Efficient and always assessing. Her eyes missed nothing. Did you see how she was constantly scanning?” Iris asked, opening her mouth and then closing it. Kane was certain she had been about to say something else but then stopped herself. A server drifted back with their drinks, and Kane held his up.
“Slàinte,” Kane said, and Iris tapped her glass to his before taking a sip. She sighed happily and continued to look around the pub.
“I see families and friends who are well-acquainted with each other. You can tell by the way they sit at their tables or at the bar. See how their chairs are turned out, opening themselves to speaking with others? While those tables”—Iris nodded to several tables across the room—“those are tourists. They’re closed off, unsure or not expecting to chat with anyone but their group.”
Kane appreciated the way her mind worked. It had been a somewhat joking request, though he was interested in how she viewed the pub, but her analysis was making his brain work in ways that it hadn’t in a while.
“As design goes,” Iris continued, pursing her lips once more, “it hits the nail on the head for a cozy Irish pub. The dark wood floors, the beautiful wooden bar, the long mirror behind the shelves? It all works. I suspect the mirror is so the bartenders can keep an eye on the crowd while mixing drinks, but the practicality doesn’t take away from the appeal. And with all the old-timey Guinness signs and vintage pub advertisements on the wall? Yeah, it works. Plus, I can’t resist a fireplace. Nothing beats that for ambience.” Iris brought her fingers to her mouth and kissed the tips. And once again, Kane found himself drawn to her lips. She’d be a good kisser, he thought, and then shook his head.
It was the first sexual thought he’d had about a woman since Alison had left him, and that was certainly something to note.
“I love a good fire as well,” Kane said, smiling. “A fire’s a gathering point, you know. There’s nothing finer than sitting by a fire with a whiskey and sharing stories.”
“And you tell them, apparently.” Iris turned back to him. Leaning forward, she put her elbows on the table and propped her face in her hands. In the background, someone tuned a fiddle, and Kane’s mood picked up. It seemed like they were in for a session.
“I do. In fact, that’s what drove me here. I’m to write a screenplay and have a bit of a writer’s block going on,” Kane said. It wasn’t entirely untruthful and about as much as he was willing to reveal at the moment.
“Yes, well, you should be kind to yourself. You’re going through a lot. Emotions take time to process, you know,” Iris said. “What type of screenplay? Maybe you can murder your ex.”
“That’s what I suggested to my agent.” Kane laughed when Iris winced.
“I really shouldn’t be suggesting murder, but leaving you at the altar might warrant it,” Iris said.
“Perhaps it warrants a fictional murder. Not a real one, of course.” Kane laughed as Cait materialized by their table with a tray.
“No murders on my watch,” Cait said smoothly as she deposited food in front of them. “Do I need to be keeping an eye on you two?”
“It’s him with the motive.” Iris nodded to Kane, neatly throwing him under the bus. “I come in peace.”
“And we welcome you,” Cait said, and again, something in her tone made Kane think he was missing something. When Cait squeezed Iris’s shoulder, and her eyes widened in shock for a moment, he grew even more certain that he was missing an underlying thread.
“Do you know Cait?” Kane asked, forking up some mashed potatoes and blowing on it.
“Nope, this is the first time I’ve been here. She seems nice, no? Terrifying in her own way, I suppose.” Iris took a bite of her salad, drifting into silence for a moment, cocking her head as though she was listening for something. Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head ever so slightly. He wondered what she was talking herself out of. Oh, but this woman was fascinating, Kane decided, and settled in for an interesting night. If he could keep her here long enough.
“I like terrifying women,” Kane admitted. “They make for great characters, and they’re good people. Tell me, Iris. Do you watch a lot of television? Do you have a favorite show?”
“I’m more of a reader, I’ll admit. I’m a diehard romance novel fan, and you can pry them out of my cold dead hands,” Iris admitted. Kane’s heart lifted, knowing she wouldn’t make fun of his genre of choice.
“Any favorites?” Kane asked, pretending nonchalance.
