Beers, Hens, and Irishmen (Warbler's Point Series) (4 page)

Chapter 3

              Booker stepped off the little puddle jumper he took to the small airport located near Warblers Point. He breathed in the fresh, crisp, fall air which was completely different than the smog infested air back in LA. He felt like an entirely different person. His face felt completely naked and his hair was much lighter, he didn’t feel like his head was being weighted down. Booker had to give credit to Blaire for her shopping and haircut. He looked like one of the actors that could star in his movie, rather than the frumpy director.

             
He found the jeans she bought him a little tight in the legs but comfortable, the shirts also tailored but he still had room to maneuver and the bomber jacket she got him was his favorite article of clothing. He grabbed his suitcases that were placed under the plane and went to go pick up his rental car.

             
The people seemed much nicer in Vermont than LA, more accommodating. He requested an SUV since he never drove in the snow before and ended up with a nice Jeep Grand Cherokee. After gathering all the papers he needed and inspecting the car, he was on his way. He plugged the address in for the bed and breakfast he was staying at in the GPS, thankfully he requested one for the car.

             
Even though he arrived at the end of the fall foliage spectacular, he still found the scenery and foliage breath taking. All different hues of red, orange and yellow painted the landscape as he drove down the country roads. He passed a sign that said “Welcome to Warblers Point” and was impressed with the little town. It was a strip of road that gradually went up a hill with little antique stores, restaurants and ski shops occupying either side of the road. He passed the general store which looked like something out of a western movie and a very intriguing Irish pub. He made a mental note to check out the establishment later since it seemed like the only bar on the strip.

             
He made a quick turn off the main street that eventually led up to Warblers Peak and found the bed and breakfast tucked away in the woods. It was a quaint deep green colonial style house with rocking chairs on a white wrap around porch where an Irish flag flew. Well that could explain the name The Sleeping Potato he thought.

             
Grabbing his bags and locking up his car, he headed for the front door. He assumed the cabins were in the back, behind the house. As he walked in what almost seemed like a mini mansion, the atmosphere made him think of his grandparent’s house. It was cozy with a fire place in the living room in full force, quilts and handmade specialties scattered amongst the décor and an aroma that smelled like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.

             
A little, red headed lady with the smoothest whiskey colored eyes he had ever seen appeared at the entry way. She was wearing what looked like a dress form the 1900s and a white frill apron over it.

             
“Well, come on in laddie and have ya self a seat. My goodness ya must be chilled to the bone. Here, here sit next to the fire to warm ya up.”

             
He wasn’t too cold actually, but he wasn’t about to argue with the lady, she seemed like a fiery little red head that could hold her own if put to the test.

             
“Thank you.” He said politely as she shoved a cup of hot chocolate in his hand as well as three fresh baked cookies on a plate.

             
“There ya go laddie, just sit back and enjoy. Tis a cold one out today. I’m Mary Margaret O’Leary, I run tis here establishment with my husband Carlin who is out and about toolin’ around with something. That man won’t stop fiddlin with things’. Now you must be Booker?”

             
“That’s correct ma’am.”

             
“Oh laddie no need to call me ma’am, Mary Margaret is to me likin’. Now, did I say your name right? Book-er?

             
“That’s correct.” He chuckled to himself from her attempt at pronunciation.

             
He watched her ponder his name and try to understand it. “Well, if it’s not Irish, it’s hard for me to understand.” She said with a chuckle. “Now, ya will be staying with us for quite some time. The longest stay a guest has ever had in tease parts.”

             
He just nodded, not wanting to give a reason. He didn’t want people sniffing around his personal life too much. He just wanted to get away without being recognized, which so far was working out great. Not one person had recognized him. He didn’t want to change his name because lying wasn’t one of his favorite things and he was afraid he would slip up and not recognize his fake name. So instead of going by Booker James, his director name, he went by Booker Hall his given name. Well his full name was Booker James Hall, so he technically wasn’t lying to anyone, just cutting out certain parts of his name.

             
Topping off the hot chocolate and last cookie he set the plate and the cup down and handed her his credit card for payment.

             
“We reserved the nicest cabin for ya since ya will be stayin’ for such a long duration with us. It has one bedroom with a pull out sofa, in case ya have any guests, a fire place in the living room, a wee little kitchenette and bathroom. Linens and towels are provided as well as a daily cleaning service. If ya wish to not have ya room cleaned then just put the little pass on the door knob when ya leave so we don’t bother ya. We serve breakfast every morning from six to nine and here is a calendar of our dinner schedule. If ya’re ever hungry let us know and we will fix ya something up right nice. Any questions?”

             
Booker shook his head as he tried to remember the information overload she just delivered. She gathered his suitcases and said, “Follow me, laddie.”

             
Feeling bad he tried to grab the suitcases since she was clearly struggling with them but she insisted on carrying them herself.

             
“It’s part of the full service we provide laddie.” She said in a strangled voice.

             
“I appreciate the service, but please let me help you. I over packed and don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

             
She stopped, looked him up and down and said, “Well ya’re a strappin’ young lad, I suppose you could carry this larger one.”

             
After taking the suitcase from her that nearly broke her back, he followed her to a little green cabin with black trim that looked across a pond. He instantly fell in love when she led him in. There was a sliding glass door that led out to the pond and gave a picture perfect view. The cabin was quite small but would be perfect for what he needed. He started to think that taking this little trip to Warblers Point was one of the best decisions he ever made.

                                                                                    ***

Fiona was three hours into her shift at the pub and was already tired and not in the mood to deal with the usual drunks. She adored working at the pub with her brothers, but she was itching for more out of her life. She really wished she could travel the world and take pictures, refine her photography skills. The only scenery she was able to take pictures of was the Vermont foliage which actually helped her sell a couple of photos to local travel agencies and magazines, but it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted more.

Fiona was in charge of bartending and waiting tables, she loved interacting with the local crowd. Liam was the chef of the bunch, thanks to spending long day
s in the kitchen with their ma and Finn dabbled in cooking, serving and bartending. He was the Jack of all Trades. Bradon helped out occasionally when he could free himself from the bed and breakfast. Being the youngest boy he got sucked into helping their da with daily duties around the bed and breakfast. Bradon didn’t mind much because when their parents passed, he hoped to take over the business.

Fiona had tables tonight, while Finn was bartending and like always Liam was in the kitchen. They had their regulars mixed in with a few tourists who must be in town for the holiday weekend.
Warblers Point put on an exciting Halloween weekend, full of hay rides, haunted houses and parties. The biggest party was at their pub of course. It got to the point where they had to start handing out tickets to be allowed in because it became too crowded over the years. They only had a few tickets left so they were looking at a full house this Saturday night.

Finn tapped her shoulder and pointed to a guy who just sat down in a booth next to her favorite stain glass window of a Celtic cross. The bar was simply decorated. They had a few stain glass windows in the front, deep mahogany woodwork with Irish green walls and twinkle lights lining the ceiling. They had booths set up along the walls and bar height tables in the middle of the floor. Their bar was a huge wrap around bar that spanned the establishment with liquor lined up behind, separated by type. On the two big walls in the back of the pub were photographic murals she took of some sheep in meadowlands. Everyone always raved about the Irish atmosphere they bestowed upon their pub, they were all very proud of what they accomplished together.

She walked over to the man in the booth and as she got closer she noticed her body heat started to rise. He was one gorgeous man. He filled the booth with his height and strong build, not too muscular, just right. He had short blonde hair, styled in a messy but perfected way and he had piercing blue eyes that shot right through her soul. She turned off her libido so she could focus and not embarrass herself.

“Hello, welcome to O’Leary’s, can I get you a drink?”

“Uh, yea.” He said while looking at a menu. “Can I get a martini, stirred please?”

Fiona cringed at the order because she knew exactly what was going to happen when she put the order in. Maybe she should just make it herself, to spare the man embarrassment.

              She was about to turn around when he said, “Your eyes, they are impeccable.”

             
Impeccable? Was he serious? She had plain old brown eyes, thanks to her ma. Her and Finn both were stuck with brown eyes whereas Liam and Bradon lucked out with their da’s bright blue eyes.

             
“They are just brown, but thanks.”

             
She went to run his order when he placed his hand on her arm and said, “No they’re not, they’re the color of whiskey with gold flecks.” He studied her a little longer and said, “Are you related to the owners of The Sleeping Potato?’

             
Shocked that he made the connection she said, “Yes, they are my parents.”

             
“I knew it.” He slapped the table with his palm. “You look just like your mother, minus the white ruffle apron.” He smiled an incredibly gorgeous smile at her.

             
All of a sudden feeling shy, she replied, “Yea, I get that a lot. My hair is a little darker than hers though.” Fiona refrained from fidgeting in place.

             
He just sat there and studied her. She was starting to feel uncomfortable so she told him she would get his drink and be right back for his order.

                                                                                    ***

              Booker felt like an idiot for just staring at the waitress but he couldn’t help himself, she was breathtaking. She was nothing like the blonde bimbos back home, she was pure and natural. She had the creamiest white skin, not fake tan leather skin and her hair was a beautiful auburn color and those eyes mesmerized him. He couldn’t look away, they spoke to him. She was shorter than normal girls, but then again she wasn’t wearing heels like all the other girls he had been with.

             
He watched her interact with the bar tender and wondered if they were related, they looked like each other and had a sibling connection about them. Remembering she was going to come back to take his order, he tore his eyes off her and looked at his menu. The wording was something he was not used to, all Irish food. Thankfully there were descriptions that accompanied the odd names. Deciding on a traditional fish and chips meal, he was just about to put the menu down when from the corner of his eye he saw the bartender get on top of the bar and start shaking a bell that was hanging from the wall.

             
“Attention all ya buckled block heads, we have a Sheila in the house. That’s right lads and lassies, we have a certified Sheila amongst us.”