Page 13 of What Love Can Do
“Rugby, you say. Who’d you play for?”
They talked about Quinn’s rugby years, including the possibility of Quinn rejoining the team, before settling into a comfortable silence and football watching.
During a break in the game, Quinn glanced around the empty bar and sighed. “Get a pole and some strippers in here, Paul,” Quinn said, polishing off his beer.
Paul laughed and lifted his glass to a toast. “Hear, hear! To pole strip dancing across from St. Mary’s! Brilliant idea, Quinn O’Neill!”
“Thank you, thank you. I try.” Ah, the craic was getting better already. See? All it took was a couple new faces.
Suddenly, the door chimed, and Paul craned his neck to see past the bar’s edge. Quinn leaned back to see who would show up at Mulligan’s at eleven o’clock at night when the real action was happening across the street. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he spotted the prettiest fish out of water he’d ever seen—Lilly, still in her jeans and gray wrap-around sweater—walking into the dirty, smelly, smoky tavern.
“Well, what do you know?” he mumbled, happily surprised.
She spotted Quinn at the bar and sighed with relief. “Hi.” She gave him a little wave. “Thought I might find you here. Buy a girl a Guinness?”
Six
“What are you doing here?” Quinn’s face was loaded with surprise.
“What do you mean?” Lilly shrugged, setting her purse down on a stool. “Can’t a girl from the west side of town visit the east side? What is this, 1957?”
Quinn scoffed then gestured to the bartender for another pint for himself and one for Lilly. “God, she’s just like her.”
“Like who?” Lilly narrowed her eyes.
“Never mind.” He crossed his arms, showing off his forearms. “How’d you know where to find me?”
“Who said I was looking for you?” She bit her lip and heard the bartender laugh. Turning to him, she winked at the older man. She pulled out a stool, leaning into Quinn’s ear. “Anyway, why here? Why not that place across the street where there’s more action?”
“You like action, do you?” Quinn raised one eyebrow and clucked his tongue playfully.
“You know what I mean.” She nudged his arm. “This place is dead,” she whispered. “No offense. By the way, I saw your brother outside. He was making out with some girl outside. He sure bodes well with the natives.”
Quinn smirked at the bartender—Paul, was it?—whose expression soured. Maybe he didn’t like people kissing outside his pub? “Yeah, he wastes no time, that one. By the way…” Quinn cleared his throat. “Lilly, this is Paul Brennan, the proprietor of Mulligan’s, and the girl you spotted outside is his daughter, Dara.” He widened his eyeballs.
Lilly had never felt more mortified. “Ah.” She felt her face flush. “Yes. Pleasure to meet you, sir. Lovely, lovely pub you have here. Always wanted to come inside. And now I have!” She smiled, as Paul pushed a Guinness across the wooden countertop towards her. She took the dark liquid and sank back a third of it.
“Pleased to meet you too. Enjoy.” He smirked and returned to watching the football game.
“Never would have guessed,” Quinn said, staring at her and shaking his head.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The beer was dark and heavy, but it was wonderfully cold and felt nice going down. “There are lots of things about me you never would guess,” she said.
Lilly wasn’t usually the daring type, but then again, she usually wasn’t about to leave town soon either. What the hell, she’d thought when she got off work, figuring she’d come looking for Quinn and Con. I’m about to leave anyway. May as well go out with a bang. Literally.
She chuckled to herself.
“Find something funny, do ya?” Quinn’s face lightened, and he swiveled on his stool. His head tilted slightly. He crossed his arms, one elbow on the counter. “You have my full attention now, Miss Parker, with your, There are lots of things about me you don’t know and your secretive smile. Keep talking.”
Behind the counter, Paul Brennan chuckled and leaned against the cash register, watching Green Bay playing Chicago.
Lilly swallowed softly, not wanting him to catch on to her tell-tale signs of nervousness. “Who’s winning?” she asked to change the subject. “Anyone know?”
“Packers are up 7-0. It’s first and down,” Paul replied, eyes glued to the screen. “Ten seconds left on the clock in this quarter. You like football, miss?” He turned an eye on her.
Lilly sank back another sip of her Guinness. “I’m a daddy’s girl. And a huge Raiders’ fan.”
“Raiders?” Paul recoiled, scoffing. “Only 49er fans allowed in this pub, missy,” he laughed. “Didja hear that, Quinn? Your Raiders friend likes rowdy drunkenness. Not sure I should let a public menace like her in here.” He smiled and extended a pointed, playful finger at Lilly.