Page 22 of Experiments in Offline Dating

LOVELY THE STEAK PIE THANKS I’LL BE ROUND WITH YOUR BAG TO PICK YOU UP IN TWENTY

And then I thoroughly enjoyed what was left of my evening.

Chapter 6 An Experiment in Being Played by a Player

Birdsong gently tugged me from sleep. Not the honk of cars, the blare of an alarm, or the chatter of people on their phones as they walked by, but the lyrical lilt of unfamiliar birdsong. Sun warmed through two little windows as I opened my eyes and looked around the room for that first moment of weightless vertigo when one wakes to new surroundings, no idea where they might be.

Overhead, crooked wooden beams lined the slanted ceiling, knots and all. Faded roses bloomed from a quilt that smelled like it had been dried in the sun.

I stood in front of the footboard and stretched my sore bones. I was very nearly too tall for that bed—another inch or two would have been my downfall, but luckily, it had been perfectly cozy, just like everything else in the room.

I could hear movement downstairs. My phone said it was after ten, but I’d needed those extra hours of sleep. I groggily considered getting changed, brushed, and showered before I headed down, but even the thought of it made me tired. Instead, I shrugged on my biggest, softest, lumpiest sweater, slid my feet into some slippers, and decided my flannel pajama bottoms would do me just fine. I was comfortable here, and I was comfortable with Jackie, and it would be a long week if I didn’t try to make a home here and settle into my routines.

The crooked stairs creaked out news of my approach to Jackie, who was in the kitchen, busying himself with something or other. He whirled around with a smile and a floral apron tied over clothes that looked like he’d spent the morning gardening. A few pieces of hay stuck out of his sweater. I didn’t know if the apron was to keep his clothes safe from the food or vice versa.

“Well, good morning, Maya. You slept well enough, I trust? I put the kettle on when I heard things rattling around upstairs. Do you take milk? Or would you rather I drip some coffee?”

I rubbed at my messy puff of hair and blinked a few times. “No, no. Tea would be lovely. I’ll take it however you take it, if that’s okay.”

“Strong as an ox, then, with milk and sugar, if that’ll do ye.”

“Perfect.”

He gave me a wink and went back to the demands of the kitchen. “Now, you can sit at the window there by the stove and warm up, or you can do what I like to do and take this back to your bed with a hot-water bottle while you work at rejoining the world of the living.”

“Oh, wow. Can I? That sounds . . . incredible.”

“’Course ye can. I’ve boiled plenty of water for both.”

I’d had loads of lazy mornings, but I’d never had one in an old Irish cottage with a hot mug of Irish tea just the way Jackie liked it. And I’d never had a hot-water bottle at all, in fact, and was thrilled to find that it was covered in pink polka-dotted fur. Jackie filled it and handed it over, and I instinctively curled around it before he carefully handed me a very full mug. The day before, with the travel, and the crowds, and having to perform and be charming, had been a major battery drain. I needed to recharge with silence, soft pajamas, and a good book.

“Now, enjoy a bit of the quiet country life, and I’ll see you when the hunger gets to ye. Off you go. Oh, and close your door if you don’t want company. There may be a tomcat wandering around here somewhere, and he might just reckon you’d be his hot-water bottle.” He laughed. “I hope you’re not allergic.”

“You have a cat? Oh, yes, please! I’m crazy about cats, Jackie.”

“Good. Well, this one is called Fearghal, so’s you can introduce yourself when you meet him.”

I almost could have hugged Jackie. “All of this is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Oh, I’m happy to have ye. House has been feeling too empty lately.”

SOMETIME AROUND NOON, I showered and dressed and made my way back down. Jackie was out pulling weeds in the front garden, but when he saw me, he made his way in, removing gloves and taking off a totally different pink apron.

“Ah. There she is! Are ye hungry for a bit of lunch? I thought we could pick at some of those bits and bobs from the pub last night. See if we can make a dent.”

“Perfect. I’m starving, now that you mention it.”

“Me too. Though I’m always starved, if you hadn’t noticed.” He patted his stomach. “I’ll make us a wee salad from the garden, and we’ve got a bit of that crumble for after.”

“Sounds amazing. I can’t get over how good the food was at the tavern last night. That fish pie made me weak in the knees.”

“Yes. Too bad about the date, though. No chance there, I suppose?” I’d already told him the long and short of it on the drive home the night before, and yet even after hearing about the flaming catastrophe in great detail, he still held a little question in his voice. A little hope. That was just the sort of optimistic spirit one needed to be a matchmaker, I guessed—always leaving a door cracked open.

I laughed. “No, no. No such luck, I’m afraid. I’m not sure that anyone has ever hated me more than that man did last night. Anyway, you’re not getting off that easy, Jackie! I’ve got a whole month here, and I hired you to do your worst.”

“Ah, well. Ye never know until you try, eh? We’ll see who’s out there tonight for ye.”

He laughed, and I was glad that things were already so easy between us. It wasn’t always that way for me. But Jackie and his sparkly eyes and easy smile had a way of putting me at ease. Which was probably why he was so good at his job.