Page 26 of Love Unlocked

‘Impersonal?’

‘Yes,’ she says with a grin. ‘I’m glad you agree. Could we talk about it?’

‘I would like to talk to you,’ he says slowly, as if considering his words carefully, as if he’s under oath.

‘I’m not recording you,’ she says. ‘You can pat me down and check for a wire.’ She tries to say it playfully but it comes out awkward and weird, because she would very much like him to pat her down and search all her crevices for a wire. With his tongue.

‘Right,’ he says, studying her, not sure what to make of her. ‘But I’m not really certain what I could do for you. I can’t go on your podcast. There’s a PR team that would be much more qualified than me.’

‘You were the spokesman. You’re the bridge guy who removed the love locks. It was your call.’

‘True. But I’m not going on your podcast.’

‘I wasn’t going to ask you on.’ Maybe she was. ‘Just a few minutes of your time. I have a few questions.’

‘Okay. Come up to my office.’

He’s so casual, she feels as if the cool boy has granted her access into his house to play video games. He hits the button for the lift.

‘What floor are you on?’ she asks.

‘Six.’

‘Okay. I’ll see you there,’ she says, heading in the direction of the stairs, because as well as not liking deep committed relationships, being home alone at night, or confined spaces, she doesn’t like lifts, which she supposes is the same thing as a confined space. ‘I don’t like lifts,’ she offers as an explanation.

She stops to catch her breath on five before reaching six, wishing she hadn’t carried her scooter up the stairs with her and what kind of idiot decision that had been. She considered abandoning it on level two but then she may never get it back.

On six, Al’s there, waiting for her, his bag still on his back, coat on, looking concerned. He pulls the door open for her, takes the scooter from her without a word, and leads the way to his office. It’s open-plan and bustling at this early hour.

‘Who knew bridges could be so cool,’ she says, looking around at the office space.

‘Bridges are very cool,’ he says with an amused smile, taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack in the corner of his office. He closes the door then reaches out to take her coat, trying to discreetly take her body in once her coat is off but she notices and is pleased.

‘Wow, great view,’ she says, walking to the window, feeling and liking his eyes on her. His gaze crawls up her back like fingers. She shudders a little. ‘I can see my apartment block.’

‘Where?’

He stands beside her. He smells good.

‘Spencer Dock. There,’ she points. ‘So this is kind of like the bridge watch tower. How many bridges are there over the River Liffey?’

‘Guess.’

She counts in her head. ‘Six, no seven.’

‘Twenty-four. From Chapelizod to the sea.’

‘What’s the oldest bridge in Dublin?’

‘Still standing, is located on the Griffeen River at Lucan. Built in 1200s.’

She whistles. ‘What’s the biggest?’

‘River Barrow Bridge also known as Rose Kennedy Fitzgerald Bridge. It’s the longest of its kind in the world. It’s an extradosed bridge, nine hundred metres long, has eight piers and three towers. Do you want some bridge stats?’

‘I think that’s enough foreplay for now.’

He laughs, showing his teeth. She’d like to run her tongue over them.