were continuing their lovely conversation from before.
“That you should. Your body will develop a tolerance, and you’ll actually need more.”
Padraig shoved the chair back and stood to leave. “This is none of your business. Why do you keep prying?”
“You’ll get headaches, dizziness, and most likely liver damage.”
“I’m outta here.” He had walked two paces when she finally raised her voice.
“Especially combined with alcohol.”
Some punters at the bar had swiveled in their stools to watch the commotion. Padraig pivoted and walked back to her chair where he bent and stuck his face in hers. He was so close he could count the freckles on her nose. “Why do you give a shit?”
God help her, she didn’t even blanch. Didn’t slink or move away, but held his gaze. “Coach asked me to—”
“Yeah, I got that before, but why do you give a shit about me and what I do?”
She said nothing. And right now, as he held her gaze, he was more disappointed than anything else. Why life had to be so complicated was beyond his comprehension. Why a meal with an interesting girl couldn’t be just that.
He turned and left. He’d walk home.
Chapter 11
Gillian looked at her watch again. Padraig was ten minutes late. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show at all. They hadn’t spoken since Thursday night. She still had his gear bag in her car, and he’d made no attempt to get it back, through Del or Coach or anyone else.
It was a beautiful Sunday, though. Low eighties and a slight onshore wind from the lake. She’d still go for a swim one way or the other, but she really hoped he listened to Coach’s request. Not for his sake or the Blues, but for her. She’d mucked things up horribly and wanted to make it right again with him. She had gone about helping him the wrong way. She was the Blues PT, not their psychotherapist.
Another glance at her watch. Fifteen minutes late. She was certain she’d given Coach this exact location but hadn’t considered how Padraig would get here, or if he even knew how. She’d give him another ten, and then she was in the water.
The car metal was hot where she was leaning, so she grabbed her bag and headed for a picnic table just past the parking lot. The beach was busy, lots of families and tourists out for the day. She should have picked a more secluded spot, but that would mean a bit of a drive out of town and she hadn’t wanted to give him any excuse not to come.
Her bathing suit was crawling up her ass, so she tugged through her beach wrap and released the fabric.
“Brilliant.”
Gillian spun to see Padraig standing there with a towel in his hand. Behind him, perpendicular to the parked cars, Del waited in his banger. Her face flushed with heat.
Del waved. “G’day, Gill.”
“Hi, Del. Thanks for giving Irish a ride.”
“You okay to give him a lift home?”
“Sure, no problem.”
When he drove off with a wave, Gillian turned to Padraig. “Thanks for coming. For a minute there, I didn’t think you would.”
He walked past her. “I needed my gear bag.”
She followed. “I have it in the car.”
He pulled his flip-flops off and stepped onto the sand.
Gillian did the same and slipped hers into her bag. The apology that had been nagging her for days bubbled out. “I shouldn’t have brought your meds up. I shouldn’t have ruined the evening.” They started walking, seagulls dipping and circling above them. He remained silent so she continued, “It was nice. I had a good time.”
When he looked her way, she met his gaze and smiled. This was going much better than she’d imagined. And she had thought of little else since that night.
She led him to the far side of the beach where fewer sunbathers had laid claim to spots in the sand. “We can leave our stuff here.” She dropped her bag.
He pulled off his jersey and threw it and his flip-flops on the ground. “Me, too.”
“Yeah, leave your stuff here.”
“No, I meant I had
“That you should. Your body will develop a tolerance, and you’ll actually need more.”
Padraig shoved the chair back and stood to leave. “This is none of your business. Why do you keep prying?”
“You’ll get headaches, dizziness, and most likely liver damage.”
“I’m outta here.” He had walked two paces when she finally raised her voice.
“Especially combined with alcohol.”
Some punters at the bar had swiveled in their stools to watch the commotion. Padraig pivoted and walked back to her chair where he bent and stuck his face in hers. He was so close he could count the freckles on her nose. “Why do you give a shit?”
God help her, she didn’t even blanch. Didn’t slink or move away, but held his gaze. “Coach asked me to—”
“Yeah, I got that before, but why do you give a shit about me and what I do?”
She said nothing. And right now, as he held her gaze, he was more disappointed than anything else. Why life had to be so complicated was beyond his comprehension. Why a meal with an interesting girl couldn’t be just that.
He turned and left. He’d walk home.
Chapter 11
Gillian looked at her watch again. Padraig was ten minutes late. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show at all. They hadn’t spoken since Thursday night. She still had his gear bag in her car, and he’d made no attempt to get it back, through Del or Coach or anyone else.
It was a beautiful Sunday, though. Low eighties and a slight onshore wind from the lake. She’d still go for a swim one way or the other, but she really hoped he listened to Coach’s request. Not for his sake or the Blues, but for her. She’d mucked things up horribly and wanted to make it right again with him. She had gone about helping him the wrong way. She was the Blues PT, not their psychotherapist.
Another glance at her watch. Fifteen minutes late. She was certain she’d given Coach this exact location but hadn’t considered how Padraig would get here, or if he even knew how. She’d give him another ten, and then she was in the water.
The car metal was hot where she was leaning, so she grabbed her bag and headed for a picnic table just past the parking lot. The beach was busy, lots of families and tourists out for the day. She should have picked a more secluded spot, but that would mean a bit of a drive out of town and she hadn’t wanted to give him any excuse not to come.
Her bathing suit was crawling up her ass, so she tugged through her beach wrap and released the fabric.
“Brilliant.”
Gillian spun to see Padraig standing there with a towel in his hand. Behind him, perpendicular to the parked cars, Del waited in his banger. Her face flushed with heat.
Del waved. “G’day, Gill.”
“Hi, Del. Thanks for giving Irish a ride.”
“You okay to give him a lift home?”
“Sure, no problem.”
When he drove off with a wave, Gillian turned to Padraig. “Thanks for coming. For a minute there, I didn’t think you would.”
He walked past her. “I needed my gear bag.”
She followed. “I have it in the car.”
He pulled his flip-flops off and stepped onto the sand.
Gillian did the same and slipped hers into her bag. The apology that had been nagging her for days bubbled out. “I shouldn’t have brought your meds up. I shouldn’t have ruined the evening.” They started walking, seagulls dipping and circling above them. He remained silent so she continued, “It was nice. I had a good time.”
When he looked her way, she met his gaze and smiled. This was going much better than she’d imagined. And she had thought of little else since that night.
She led him to the far side of the beach where fewer sunbathers had laid claim to spots in the sand. “We can leave our stuff here.” She dropped her bag.
He pulled off his jersey and threw it and his flip-flops on the ground. “Me, too.”
“Yeah, leave your stuff here.”
“No, I meant I had
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