Paris Is Always a Good Idea - Jenn McKinlay Page 0,24
told him to fuck off.” She threw back her head and laughed, and I laughed with her. “It was like unloading twelve stone of negativity just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
I glanced at the woman before me. Darby looked like she could open a can of whoop ass anytime she felt the need, which was all kinds of awesome. “Well, you look incredible.”
“Thank you, pet.” Darby handed me a key with the number five on it and said, “Anytime you want to try the pole, you let me know. First lesson’s free.”
My first thought was to give it a hard pass, but my second one was a solid maybe. The Chelsea who had been here seven years ago would have jumped at the chance to try something new, and I was trying to be more like her. I nodded. “I may just take you up on that, Darby.”
“Breakfast is served in the dining room from six in the morning until nine. I do the fry-up myself, and it’s a full Irish breakfast, with bacon and sausages, black and white puddings, and potatoes all cooked in butter, with soda bread on the side.” She gave me an assessing stare. “You don’t have any dietary issues, do you?”
“No, ma’am,” I said. “That sounds terrific.” It sure beat the plain yogurt and mango slices I’d had this morning.
“For the rest of your meals, you’re on your own, but the pub does a nice stew served in a Yorkshire pudding bowl, and I suppose their bangers and mash aren’t terrible either,” Darby said. Her praise was faint and grudging at best. I wondered if there was a rivalry of sorts there.
“I’ll be sure to try it,” I said. I didn’t mention that I’d been to Finn’s Hollow before and enjoyed the bangers and mash at the Top of the Hill. No need to go there. The reasons for coming back were too personal to share, so I opted to say nothing.
“Do you need help getting settled?” Darby asked. “There’s a peat block in your fireplace that’s all ready. You just need to strike the match.”
“No, I think I’ve got it,” I said. “Thank you.”
“I’m here if you need me,” Darby said. With that, she left me on the porch and went back to her class.
I took a moment to gather my scattered wits before I headed back out into the rain. I debated leaving my bag in the car, but the lure of clean clothes was too much to resist. The wind pulled the front door out of my hand, and it took an effort to shut it. The gusts were fierce, and the rain was going sideways as I lifted my suitcase out of the trunk. Thankfully, my clothes were already as soaked as they could possibly get, so there was that.
I dashed down the gravel walkway along the row of cottages. The tiny yellow houses had front porches just big enough for two chairs and a window box of flowers. The boxes were barren at the moment, but the chairs remained. I hurried up the two steps to the front door. I turned the knob, which thankfully wasn’t locked. With the rain pelting my back, I opened the door and stepped into what Annabelle would have described as the cutest little room.
The interior was done in green and cream. A table and two chairs were placed in front of the window that overlooked the tiny porch, the fireplace was set in the far wall, and a peat log was waiting, just as Darby had said. It was chilly, so I quickly lit the fire with the matches I found on the mantel, thrilled when the peat caught and filled the air with its earthy aroma.
As the fire warmed the room, I checked out the rest of the cottage. A door led into a modern bathroom with a tub-shower combination that made me want to weep—I was so desperate for a shower. There was a dresser with a small television on top of it and a very efficient kitchenette with a mini-refrigerator, a stove top, a sink, and a few cupboards. It was charming.
I hung up my coat and quickly stripped down to my skin, taking a long hot shower to slough off the grit of every mile I’d traveled. It felt heavenly. The heat from the shower and the fire was so lovely and relaxing that my jet lag reared up and walloped me. I let out a jaw-cracking yawn as