Werewolves Don't Wear Cowboy Boots

Chapter 7: Awkward encounters of the introvert kind

"Connolly!"

Colum winced a bit as he heard someone shout his name just before he could slip into his car and fade away down the dusty dirt road. He'd already dodged one invitation to go out with the lads for a beer – the horror of the very thought still made him uneasy. He could just imagine the lot of them talking and laughing while he sat awkwardly in the corner and wished he were anyone other than himself. He turned slowly, trying his best not to look pained to be forced into speaking, and saw James trotting toward him. The boy wore a curious expression – 97 percent his usual friendly and harmless grin, but lurking behind that was just a bit of ... uncertainty, maybe?

James skidded to a stop and pulled his cap off, wiping at his forehead. "You don't waste any time getting out of here, do you?"

Colum opened his mouth, then realized he couldn't very well say, "It's the best way to avoid talking to anyone," and closed it again with a shrug.

James waited a moment, probably expecting a response, but when he received none he offered a lop-sided smile and jammed his hat back over his hair. "I uh ... don't suppose you thought about that dinner? My mom has been in a pie making mood this week, and you wouldn't regret it."

"I .... I have to pick up Bridget," Colum said quietly. "And we wouldn't want to trouble you at all."

"Oh, no trouble," James said quickly. "Mom loves to meet new people. Just be ready for her to talk your ear off. You'll come, right?" When Colum responded with a nod of the head, James grinned and said, "Alright. See you there. Dinner's around 7. Give me a shout if you need directions!" And then he bounded away.

Colum let out a sigh as he walked the rest of the way to the car, pondering how to break the news to his sister. He thought he'd worked out what he'd say when he walked into the Italian restaurant, keeping an eye out for Bridget or maybe Angelo, with whom he would no doubt exchange a respectful and silent nod of the head in lieu of speaking. Instead, he was approached by a spunky girl with pink hair who said, "How many?"

He blinked at her and took a slow step backward, looking around the room in a panic before coming to the conclusion he would have to talk to her. "I'm not ... I'm just here for my sister."

"Ooooh." The girl looked him over in a way that made him a little nervous. She stepped close to him again. "So you're Bridget's brother. I'm Kenzie. Do you maybe want to stay for dinner while you're here? I'd be happy to get you a table."

Bridget, finally, appeared from the kitchen, her face lighting up with a wicked expression of amusement as she saw Kenzie rest a hand on his arm. He flashed Bridget a pained and panicked expression, then gently moved out of Kenzie's reach once more and kept his eyes anywhere but on her. "Ah, no. Thank you. We have .... We have plans."

"Do we?" Bridget asked, her voice full of mischief. "I don't remember making any plans."

He felt himself start to blush, then shrugged awkwardly. "James asked us to dinner. Pleasure to meet you, Kenzie." He nodded once, nervously, and then started to back away, looking at Bridget pleadingly.

She laughed and waved to Kenzie, and Colum made his escape to the car while he could. When Bridget joined him, she seemed too amused about his introduction to her fellow waitress to be bothered about dinner with James. That was strange, but he was too relieved over his good fortune to worry over it much. At least, until they arrived at James' home, both cleaned up and changed. Bridget stood calmly at the door with the flowers she'd insisted they bring. Then James opened the door, and for a moment, the two of them exchanged a curious expression, too fleeting for Colum to interpret but noticeable enough to make him uneasy. When, he wondered, had Bridget decided to be friendly with the local boy?