“Where’s me whiskey?” he demanded, oblivious to the sweating men around him.

Aiden chuckled as Danny and Steven swore under their breath. “You’ve had enough whiskey,” the barkeep barked. “Just sit here and settle your hash, will ya?”

“I wanna sing a song,” Michael slurred loudly. At this point, Danny threw his hands up and walked back behind the bar. Antonia assumed that this was a good time to release her death grip on Michael’s chair.

Aiden reached out and took her arm. “Are you okay?” he asked. His large hand held her still as he appraised her for any injuries. The warmth of his touch made her tremble slightly. His closeness was inviting and dominated the space around them. The energy vibrating around him was almost enough for Antonia to forget where she was.

“Yes,” she said with a halting laugh. “I didn’t expect this kind of excitement from a sleepy village.”

Aiden’s face broke into a handsome grin that was just as contagious. She couldn’t help but return it and blush profusely. “Sounds like it’s your first time in an Irish pub.”

“Thanks for the welcome and the drink...that you’re currently wearing,” Antonia said, pointing to his wet chest. “Sorry about that.”

He looked down, as if he hadn’t noticed the dark stain on his sweater. “No worries, darling. We’ll get you another.”

“Already working on it,” Danny said from behind the taps. “Can’t have the lass’s first beer in Ireland spoiled on Michael’s account.”

After receiving her second beer of the evening, Antonia and Aiden found a quiet seat next to the bar’s fireplace. It burned with peat and gave off a pleasant earthy scent that she didn’t mind. Antonia looked forward to building a fire in her cottage later on.

“Mesmerizing to stare at, isn’t it?” Aiden asked as he sat beside her. The only thing that separated them was a small table to rest their beers on.

She ignored her pounding heart and focused on the comforting warmth of the crackling fire. “It is,” she said. “I don’t have a fireplace at home, in Chicago,”

“In America.”

Her gaze flew to his and found laughter in the small wrinkles around his eyes. “Yes, in America,” she said, stifling a smile.

“What are the odds that you and I would end up in the same tiny village in the middle of nowhere?”

“This wasn’t meant to be.”

Aiden took a swig of his beer. “No?”

“My original plan was to stay in Clifden, but my hotel reservation fell through.”

“And the goddamn oyster festival brought you out here?”

She shrugged. “Go figure.”

Aiden leaned back in his seat and contemplated her situation. Antonia snuck a peek at his long, sturdy Viking legs. What would it feel like to sit on his lap? Feeling very thirsty, she returned to her beer. The creamy metallic taste would take some getting used to, but it relieved her dry mouth. Yes, she was thirsty, indeed. Her polite sips of Aiden’s body became long languid stares. He had ditched his wet sweater and now sat in a black T-shirt, revealing muscular forearms covered with smooth black hair. Her gaze traveled to his sizable biceps and powerful shoulders. What’s under that T-shirt? “...when we were at SuperValu.”