Wild Wales: A Passport to Love Romance by Patricia Evans Cox

Author:Patricia Evans Cox [Evans Cox, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapphire Books Publishing
Published: 2020-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

As they passed the pub on the way home, they slowed to a stop on the sidewalk when they saw the door was ajar.

Finn put a hand on Aisling’s shoulder to stop her, then walked into the pub and shut the door behind her. She was back in under a minute.

“Come on in.” Finn smiled. “It’s just Ms. Greystone.”

Aisling bristled as Finn held the door tight to her shoulder and leaned into Aisling’s ear. “She means well, she just isn’t the most tactful of people.”

“How does she even get in here?” Aisling whispered, angry red splotches beginning to rise on her neck. “Does she have a key? Didn’t Mr. Clydd say we had the only one?”

“I have no idea. Let’s just hear what she has to say, okay?”

Aisling took a breath, set her face to neutral, and walked in behind Finn. Greystone was perched on top of the bar with a bottle of sherry beside her, the same gray wool pantsuit buttoned to her neck but with an unexpected pair of glossy oxblood brogues on her feet. Judging from the half-empty bottle beside her and an empty packet of crisps, she’d been there for a while.

“Always great to see you, Ms. Greystone.” Finn rounded the corner of the bar and stopped. Aisling followed Finn’s glance to see that the ancient percolator Greystone had left in the pub last time had already been started. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Lovely.” Greystone pulled a wrinkled piece of paper out of her bag, which was also parked beside her on the bar. “Thank you, Finn. And you’ll be happy to know I took the liberty of dismissing that vile American woman you met this morning.”

“She came back here?” Aisling slid onto one of the barstools and unwound the green cashmere scarf from her neck, placing it on the bar in front of her. “We spoke to her this morning when she was pounding on the door and told her to do one.”

Finn looked up, coffee in hand. “‘Do one?’ What’s the translation there?”

“It’s the same as telling someone to ‘get lost,’” Aisling said, tapping her nails impatiently on the bar. “And clearly she didn’t get the message the first time.”

“Well this time she was looking for Finn, and that was a message I made clear again in far more colorful language than you did, I assure you.” Greystone adjusted the shirt cuffs at her wrists and paused for emphasis. “And if she had any sense, she’d go back to wherever she came from, but I daresay we’ll see her again.” She held up the wrinkled paper. “She left this for you two to look at, by the way.”

Finn slid the coffee over to Greystone and passed the flyer to Aisling, who noted that somehow she still managed to look prim while perched on top of the bar halfway through a bottle of sherry. At 11:00 a.m. on a Sunday.

Aisling scanned the flyer, shaking her head as she looked up.

“You talked to

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