When Gargoyles Love

Chapter 9: The Hunk

In Ireland, people were friendlier. Meg had to remember as much as it was the City of Brotherly Love, it was still a city.

He smiled at her over his newspaper. How odd. She hadn't seen someone close to her read the newspaper in ages. Must be an old soul. There was something familiar about him, but she didn't think she'd seen him before today.

She smiled back then pushed open the door to outside.

A crowd of people waited at the bus stop. When it finally arrived, she climbed on only to see the guy in the coffee shop sitting in the back. He must have gotten on at the back door. This could be fate, not that she believed in such flights of fancy. Still. She could sit next to him.

She traversed to the back. He still had his paper in his hand, but no briefcase. Seemed odd, but she was on the bus with lots of people.

“Hi," she said. She motioned to the seat next to him. “Anyone sitting there?"

“Not that I can see."

His words carried the slightest lilt of Ireland. She sat. “You're from Ireland."

“Yes."

“I was just there on business."

“Where?"

“Leanaun."

He nodded. “I'm from County Galway."

“What a coincidence," she said.

She looked out the window, not wanting to disturb him if he was going to read his newspaper. He folded it up. “Where are you headed?"

“The Navy Yard."

“Me, too."

“You work there?"

“A new job," he said. “My first day."

“Oh. That's why I haven't seen you before," she said.

She glanced back at him. He was staring at her, but not in a creepy way. Maybe he was just new in town and friendly. She didn't get the vibe from him that he would ask her out. Sad. He was hot. Those eyes and that accent. A lethal combination.

“What do you do?" he said.

“I work for a wool processing company. I was in Ireland scouting sites for a new plant."

“Oh? Did you find any?"

“I did, but it was rejected. Probably good because there was an old church by it and I would have been sad to see it knocked down," she said.

“Och. Yes."

“You have a lovely accent."

“Go raibh maith agat."

She smiled. “What does that mean?"

“Thank you."

She nodded. “I don't know another language. Was that Gaelic."

“Sort of."

This man was fascinating. “Do they teach it in schools?"

“No. I learned it from my parents."

“Hmm. That's cool. I took a few years of Spanish in high school, but have never used it."

The bus stopped.

“I'm Meg."

“Deas chun bualadh leat. Nice to meet you. I'm Donal."

“Donald?"

He shook his head, his black hair rustling. “No. Donal. No 'd' at the end."

“Ah. Donal. Nice to meet you too."

Donal? What were the chances? That was what she'd named the one gargoyle in Ireland. She dismissed the coincidence. There were probably a thousand men named Donal in the Emerald Isles.

She shook his hand. It was larger than hers, but the same level of paleness. In fact, his hand engulfed hers, but she wasn't intimidated by him. Instead, he had a warmth to him that she was drawn to. If nothing else, she'd have someone to talk to on her ride to work.

The bus started again.

“If you are from County Galway then this city must be culture shock."

“Yes. It is taking some getting used to," he said.

“Do you miss home?"

“A little, but I think I have important work here to do," he said.

He stared off and that made her reluctant to ask him to tell her more. She may never see him again and it was none of her business. The bus finally came to the Navy Yard.

“My stop," she said, pulling the string above her head.

He stood, letting her go ahead of him. He put a hand on her shoulder. “This is forward of me, but don't quit your job."

She laughed, her nerves on alert because he'd touched her and echoed her thoughts from earlier. “Uh. Okay."

“Have a good day, Meg," he said when they stepped down from the bus.

She nodded, her mind still whirling from what he said. “Goodbye."

Taking a few steps towards her office, she made up her mind to ask him how he knew she was struggling with her job. When she looked back he was gone. She scanned the crowd, but the tall man was nowhere to be seen.

***

Donal watched from atop a building as Meg walked to her office. He'd hurried away to find a private place to let his wings out. Then he could keep an eye on her. He wasn't sure how long he'd get away with that, but Meg was his priority.

He'd opted to make contact with her just in case she needed him later on. If the goblins showed up, she would trust him already. He was about to fly off when something in the parking lot caught his eye. Goodness. She wasn't in a normal goblin form, but there she was.

She strode along the cars as if she owned the very land she walked on. She didn't have the teeth nor the ears. Her hair was back in a severe bun. Just like he'd done, she'd hidden her real form. She looked as human as anyone down there, but he knew.

Her scent reached him on the wind. Garbage and something powdery. She must have tried to cover up her scent. Donal's nose wrinkled. She stopped in the middle of the parking lot, her nose in the air.

She looked around. Donal stepped away from the edge of the building. She might have caught his scent. He crouched down so she couldn't see him. He hoped she couldn't pinpoint his location just from his scent. What would she do anyway? He doubted she wanted to reveal herself to the humans nearby.

When he looked back, she was gone, but he waited for a few minutes. When he was sure she was gone, he flew to an alley between two buildings. He tucked away his wings as he walked to the car she'd climbed out of.

The sign said, Harriet Witherspoon.

“Where have I heard that name before?" Donal wondered.

***

Meg looked up to find a woman in a red suit in her office door. The woman had her hair pulled back so tightly that she didn't have any wrinkled or lines on her face.

“Hi."

The woman walked in with even more confidence than Meg had. She stretched out her hand. “I'm Harriet Witherspoon."

Meg rose and clasped the woman's hand. “Meg Boyle."

“Yes, I know. Sorry I wasn't here when you came back yesterday."

“No problem. I assume we have some things to discuss."

“Yes, my office. Ten minutes."

The woman spun on her impossibly high heels then left Meg standing with her mouth open. She'd never been ordered around like that. Was this the person she wanted to work for?

“Okay."

Meg gathered what she might need for the meeting then went to her boss's office. The woman sat behind a new desk, much larger than her predecessor used.

“Sit," Harriet said.

Meg perched on the chair, unsure of what this meeting would entail. “You read my report?"

“Of course. That's how I decided that Ireland wouldn't be the right place."

“I know you've made the decision, but I was hoping to have a chance to show once again why I think it would be a great spot," Meg said.

Harriet pressed her red-tinged lips together. She let out a sigh. “Okay. If you must."

Meg pulled out a picture she took of the spot near the church. She handed it to Harriet.

“What exactly am I looking at?"

“This is the West coast of Ireland. The road is called the Wild Atlantic Way. What I want you to see is the number of sheep."

“Okay. I know what sheep are."