Love Like This (The Romance Chronicles-Book #1)

CHAPTER FOUR

"Did you sleep well?" Orin asked the second Keira descended the staircase early the next morning, emerging into the pub part of the B&B.

She rubbed her bleary eyes. "Yes, thanks." The lie came so easily. Much better to pretend she loved her rickety bed, thin duvet, and lumpy pillows than to complain and have Orin fuss about it. She could write about it later, after all, and get some cathartic release that way.

"Take a seat and have some breakfast," Orin said, leading her to a table and placing a coffee in front of her. It was swiftly followed by a bowl of oatmeal. He sat in the seat opposite. "I've made it the Irish way. I hope you like it."

He was grinning rather widely.

"What's the Irish way?" Keira murmured suspiciously.

She took a sip of the coffee and was surprised by how delicious it tasted. Whatever the Irish way was, it was good! Then she spooned some of her oatmeal into her mouth and almost cried out in delight. She'd never tasted anything so creamy, so utterly fantastic.

"Wow, what makes this taste so great?" Keira said, as she munched on another spoon of oatmeal. "Are the cows fed organic grass and milked by the hands of maidens?" she joked.

Orin's grin grew wider. "Baileys in the coffee. And a splash of whiskey in the milk."

Keira was shocked. "Liquor at eight a.m.?" she gasped. "Is that a good idea?"

Orin gave her a wink. "The best way to start the day. That and a brisk walk. Which you'll get just as soon as I escort you to your meeting with William Barry, the head of the festival."

Keira realized then that Orin was already ready to leave the B&B. He was wearing boots that reached halfway up his calves as if in anticipation of puddles. Or mud. Either way, Keira wasn't in the mood for perambulating.

"You don't have to do that," she said. "I have SatNav in the car so I won't get lost."

Orin pointed at her coffee. "That's not why I'm doing it."

The cynical part of Keira's mind wondered whether Orin had deliberately inebriated her in order to ensure she couldn't refuse his offer of a walk. But she knew that was crazy thinking. Orin was just a gentle old man, proud of his town. He wanted to show it off to the cynical New Yorker he'd been lumped with.

"Come on," Orin continued. "You're here to get a real taste of Ireland! To live like a local! You won't really know what our lives are like if you don't walk a mile in our shoes!"

He yanked on her arm playfully, encouraging her to join him. His enthusiasm was quickly turning to cajoling and Keira realized there was literally no way of turning him down. Orin was going to make her walk to the meeting with him no matter what she said! There was no refusing.

Giving in, she downed the last of her boozy coffee, feeling the effects as soon as she stood. Then she and Orin left the dark B&B and emerged into the bright early morning sunshine. Even though the sky was a muted gray, Keira squinted against its harsh glare.

"Lead the way," she said to Orin, as she glanced down the only path, a winding country road that snaked its way down the hillside. There were occasional buildings dotted on either side but it was mainly surrounded by lush green fields filled with sheep.

"It's a two-mile walk to the town hall if we stick to the road," Orin said. "But if we cut across the fields it's half that distance. Of course, the farmer has every right to shoot us since we'd be trespassing but everyone around here knows everyone else so we'll be fine."