Page 39 of Experiments in Offline Dating

Maya: IIII don’t know, Jackie. I mean. I like it here. I’m kinda settled in. And the festival is here. That’s good for the podcast. And I think I’ve finally relearned the waltz. And you’ve been setting up those interviews with local couples you’ve matched. I’m really excited about those.

Jackie: I’ve matched couples in every corner of Ireland, my dear. I can drive you around for dates, and we can stay with loads of couples along the way for interviews. We can have a grand Irish road trip with good food and great stories. Now, don’t you tell me that wouldn’t make for a crackin’ radio show.

Maya: Um. But that wasn’t really the plan.

Jackie: How about we go sightseeing along the way? You’ve been here for nearly a week, and you’ve only seen my chicken coop and the inside of a pub or two. You can’t leave Ireland without seeing the Cliffs of Moher, the Ring of Kerry, Giant’s Causeway. So, what do you say, Maya? Will you say yes to the challenge? Yes to adventure? Are you ready to give love a real chance?

Maya: Well, crap, Jackie. When you say it like that . . . I guess I have to now, don’t I?

Chapter 9 An Experiment in Being Attacked by a Snarling Devil with Fleas

I set my alarm and woke up early just two days later, excited to start out on the adventure that I had eventually decided to like the idea of. Jackie had really sold it. The two of us were going to travel around Ireland, seeing the sights, going on dates, and staying with his friends, sharing meals with them, letting Jackie lead the charge until the ice had been soundly broken and I could then interview the couples merrily over a glass of wine. Three weeks of travel, constant dates, and lots of strangers sounded like a lot to take on, but Jackie would be by my side, pepping me up, as he always did.

I had a shower, twirled my hair, repacked my bag, downloaded twelve audiobooks just in case, and said goodbye to Fearghal the cat, who finally let me scratch him behind the ears as a going-away present.

We had planned to leave at eight a.m., and I trotted down the stairs at seven forty-five, expecting Jackie to be fussing around the kitchen in an old pink apron, as was his custom. But he wasn’t there. There was, however, some homemade soda bread that had been nicely laid out for me with jam and butter, next to an empty mug with a dry tea bag in it. I called out for him, but no answer.

I looked out the front but didn’t see him there in the garden or even over by the chicken coop. He had mentioned something vague about another car because he wasn’t sure his was up to the trip.

Perhaps he’d gone to sort that out and would soon return with our shining new chariot.

I left my suitcase by the door and settled down on the bench by the big kitchen window to have my tea and soda bread. The bread weighed as much as a sandbag, and it was sweet and filling and seemed like just the sort of breakfast one would need at the start of an epic adventure. Bilbo would approve.

I checked my phone: eight and still no Jackie. I sent him a text.

Are you kicking around somewhere? Is this hide-and-seek?

Another several minutes passed with no response, so I decided to have a walk around the property. He was probably sorting out the pygmy goats or the ponies or the chickens with some tasty snack to tide them over until his daughter Sharron came to feed them.

I slid into some wellies, but when I opened the door this time, there was a Jeep at the end of the drive. Cool! It was a little bit beat up and muddy—built for adventure!

I stuffed my sneakers in my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder, deciding that having a pair of wellies for what was sure to be a rainy Irish tour was probably a good idea, and then I walked the lavender-lined path down the hill.

Jackie wasn’t anywhere to be found, so I decided to throw my bag in the Jeep and give him a call. I put my hand on the passenger door handle and jumped back. Ahhh! Holy shit! A terrifying beast on the other side of the door was barking wildly. It wanted to rip my face off! I nearly fell backward.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” I put my hand to my throat and tried to slow my racing pulse. That car window just saved my fucking life.

“Good dog, Finn.”

A rumble of a voice broke through the noise, and the barking stopped. I heard the crunch of gravel from the other side of the Jeep.

Good dog? That monster wanted to tear my throat out!

I picked up my bag from where I’d dropped it and moved around the car until I could see whomever this Jackie impersonator was. And . . .

Shit almighty!

No.

What in the absolute hell is he doing here?

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Oops! I didn’t really mean to say that. Or for it to sound accusatory. To be honest, I owed him for getting rid of Racist Randall, or whatever his name was. But it just sort of . . . popped out before my brain had time to filter it into something more polite.

“What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here?” A frown deepened between his brows. Because apparently, that was what his brows were made for. Why does he have to be like this? Is he just perpetually angry?

He walked a few steps closer and scowled down at me. My stomach gave a traitorous little flutter. Damn his angry sizzle!