T. A. Chase

Poetry Train #88

Padraig Monaghan has a problem. Most would consider dying in a bar fight ten years ago upsetting, and existing as a ghost wandering the world might be thought a real predicament. They might deem a second chance at life through a chance encounter with a dying man a serious dilemma. But for Padraig, finding himself face to face with the man he’d loved and lost a lifetime ago is the biggest thing on his mind.

Gareth Reilly stops at O’Toole’s for a drink before he heads home. Tomorrow’s going to be another lonely birthday for him until he’s approached by a stranger. There’s something about Padraig’s bright green eyes and Irish accent that reminds Gareth of a man he once knew. Unable to resist, Gareth breaks his cardinal rule and invites Padraig home.

On St. Patrick’s Day, when Irish magic is strongest, it’ll take a belief in the impossible and help from a grateful elf to give Padraig and Gareth another chance at love.

Surprised at his boldness, Gareth takes a sip of his drink. Any other man who had ever hit on him using a tired old line like that would have seen the back of Gareth’s head as he walked away. What was it about this man that made Gareth willing to break his own rules?

“Thank you.” The man held out his hand. “I’m Padraig Burns.”

“Gareth Reilly.” He shook Padraig’s hand and enjoyed the shiver of attraction skating over his nerves to pool in his groin.

“How long have you been in Boston, Gareth?” Padraig sprawled in the chair rather clumsily like he wasn’t used to having limbs to put places.

Gareth wasn’t always the most graceful, so he ignored Padraig’s flopping. “Four years. You haven’t been here long since you still sound like a homegrown son of Erie.”

“I’ve only just arrived in town, but it’s been ten years since I left Ireland. I just don’t have much call to talk to many people and I’ve never gotten to the point where I want to lose my accent. It’s a part of home for me since I’ve moved.” Padraig ran his finger around the top of his glass.

Frowning, Gareth remembered being at a party and seeing Paddy Monaghan doing the same thing. Maybe it was being St. Patrick’s Day or the color of Padraig’s eyes or simply the fact that he felt lonely even after being in Boston for four years. He didn’t understand the urge he had to talk to this stranger.

“How does a man who looks like a California beach bum get an Irish accent?” He waved the waitress over and ordered another drink. “Would you like another one?”

“Oh God yes.” Padraig sighed.

He laughed at the fervent tone in Padraig’s voice. “I take it you haven’t had a good Irish whiskey in a while.”

“In a decade.” A rueful smile crossed Padraig’s face. “Haven’t had a lot of things in ten years.”

“Why is that?”

“Same reason I look like a surfer but speak like a dock worker, I guess. I’ve been wandering the world and being invisible doesn’t help. It tends to make it difficult to talk to people.” Padraig didn’t look up when the waitress set their drinks down.

Gareth couldn’t stop his laughter from bursting out. “Invisible? Are you serious? There’s no way a hot guy like you could ever be invisible.”

An intriguing blush dusted Padraig’s cheeks and Gareth had the odd urge to brush his thumb over those high cheekbones.

“Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t know how totally gorgeous you are.”

Padraig shrugged, fingering the glass in front of him. “At times when I look in the mirror, it’s like I don’t recognize the face staring back at me.”

Filed under: Excerpts,Eye Candy,Poetry Train | |5 Comments