if we made the cove day on Mondays when the gallery is closed?"
"Yes, I could do that, set up the pots over the weekend and then come in with you on Mondays," Flynn agreed easily and Morgan felt her stomach turn a bit.
"Did I just take the job at the gallery?" she wondered out loud.
Flynn laughed and patted her shoulder before turning back to the wheel and punching the engine up a notch.
"Sure and it seems like you did," he called to her over the sound of the motor.
Morgan smiled at him but inside her stomach was doing flips.
"We'll see," she said and shut her mouth, mulling over her words as the boat zipped into harbor. The village was busy this late in the afternoon and it made her smile to see people bustling about their day, going from market to home. Groups of school children in their uniforms raced through the town, taunting and teasing each other. And the lights at Flynn's restaurant shone bright.
"You'll be taking this batch here?" Morgan asked, motioning from the lobsters to his restaurant.
"Aye, if we have too many, I'll dry-ice the lot of them and send them up to Galway," Flynn said with a nod.
Morgan nodded and hopped easily from the boat to the dock as Flynn brought the boat near. Grabbing the large rope at the front of the boat, she tied it quickly to the dock, securing it and running back to the end of the boat to tie up that side as well. Working fast, they transferred the lobsters quickly.
"Run those up for me while I clean up the boat," Flynn instructed.
Morgan glanced at the mess of the boat.
"You sure?"
"Aye," Flynn said and waved her away.
Morgan hefted the lobsters that were in two large buckets filled with seawater. Though she was slim, she wasn't weak. Even so, the weight of the buckets made her step carefully down the dock, worried that she would spill the lobsters out. As she reached the boardwalk that ran the length of the harbor, she turned to the right and began to make her way towards Flynn's restaurant.
"Need help?"
A voice like whiskey with a hint of sex called to her and Morgan immediately felt herself stiffen. Telling herself to calm down, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.
"Hey, Patrick." She smiled easily.
Patrick Kearney hustled down the boardwalk towards Morgan and her heart twisted a bit. A wide smile combined with stormy gray eyes and a head of dark hair was enough to cause any girl to stop and stare. The fact that he'd taken an interest in Morgan had done nothing to ease her nervousness around him. In fact, it made it worse. She fumbled with buckets as he drew near. Patrick smiled and bent and for a brief moment, Morgan thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he slipped his hands under the handles of both buckets and lifted them with ease from hers.
"I can do that," Morgan said stiffly, then wanted to kick herself for sounding ungrateful.
"I know you can; 'tis easier for me as I carry buckets of ice all day long," Patrick said easily and swung up the small hill towards Flynn's restaurant. Patrick was head bartender and part-time manager of Cait's pub. He could often be seen doing everything from pouring a pint to serving food. Morgan liked that about him. He didn't mind pulling up his sleeves and getting the job done – no matter what was needed.
Morgan supposed that she had the same style of work ethic as she never hesitated to put the extra bit of work in as needed.
"Sure and it was a grand day to be on the water," Patrick commented as she fell into step next to him.
"Aye, 'tis true. One of our first real balmy days. I'm looking forward to more like it," Morgan offered, grateful for the easy conversation.
"How was the cove?" Patrick asked.
Morgan stiffened and shot him a glance.
"Fine. How do you know we were there?"
Patrick motioned with a bucket. "Best lobster comes from the cove."
"Aye, they do," Morgan agreed and then left it at that. At Aislinn's art showing earlier this year, Morgan had been surprised to find out that Patrick knew about some
"Yes, I could do that, set up the pots over the weekend and then come in with you on Mondays," Flynn agreed easily and Morgan felt her stomach turn a bit.
"Did I just take the job at the gallery?" she wondered out loud.
Flynn laughed and patted her shoulder before turning back to the wheel and punching the engine up a notch.
"Sure and it seems like you did," he called to her over the sound of the motor.
Morgan smiled at him but inside her stomach was doing flips.
"We'll see," she said and shut her mouth, mulling over her words as the boat zipped into harbor. The village was busy this late in the afternoon and it made her smile to see people bustling about their day, going from market to home. Groups of school children in their uniforms raced through the town, taunting and teasing each other. And the lights at Flynn's restaurant shone bright.
"You'll be taking this batch here?" Morgan asked, motioning from the lobsters to his restaurant.
"Aye, if we have too many, I'll dry-ice the lot of them and send them up to Galway," Flynn said with a nod.
Morgan nodded and hopped easily from the boat to the dock as Flynn brought the boat near. Grabbing the large rope at the front of the boat, she tied it quickly to the dock, securing it and running back to the end of the boat to tie up that side as well. Working fast, they transferred the lobsters quickly.
"Run those up for me while I clean up the boat," Flynn instructed.
Morgan glanced at the mess of the boat.
"You sure?"
"Aye," Flynn said and waved her away.
Morgan hefted the lobsters that were in two large buckets filled with seawater. Though she was slim, she wasn't weak. Even so, the weight of the buckets made her step carefully down the dock, worried that she would spill the lobsters out. As she reached the boardwalk that ran the length of the harbor, she turned to the right and began to make her way towards Flynn's restaurant.
"Need help?"
A voice like whiskey with a hint of sex called to her and Morgan immediately felt herself stiffen. Telling herself to calm down, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.
"Hey, Patrick." She smiled easily.
Patrick Kearney hustled down the boardwalk towards Morgan and her heart twisted a bit. A wide smile combined with stormy gray eyes and a head of dark hair was enough to cause any girl to stop and stare. The fact that he'd taken an interest in Morgan had done nothing to ease her nervousness around him. In fact, it made it worse. She fumbled with buckets as he drew near. Patrick smiled and bent and for a brief moment, Morgan thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he slipped his hands under the handles of both buckets and lifted them with ease from hers.
"I can do that," Morgan said stiffly, then wanted to kick herself for sounding ungrateful.
"I know you can; 'tis easier for me as I carry buckets of ice all day long," Patrick said easily and swung up the small hill towards Flynn's restaurant. Patrick was head bartender and part-time manager of Cait's pub. He could often be seen doing everything from pouring a pint to serving food. Morgan liked that about him. He didn't mind pulling up his sleeves and getting the job done – no matter what was needed.
Morgan supposed that she had the same style of work ethic as she never hesitated to put the extra bit of work in as needed.
"Sure and it was a grand day to be on the water," Patrick commented as she fell into step next to him.
"Aye, 'tis true. One of our first real balmy days. I'm looking forward to more like it," Morgan offered, grateful for the easy conversation.
"How was the cove?" Patrick asked.
Morgan stiffened and shot him a glance.
"Fine. How do you know we were there?"
Patrick motioned with a bucket. "Best lobster comes from the cove."
"Aye, they do," Morgan agreed and then left it at that. At Aislinn's art showing earlier this year, Morgan had been surprised to find out that Patrick knew about some