A Kiss To Build A Dream On

Chapter One

Bethany Michaels stepped out of the library door and took a nosedive on the slick brick sidewalk that led to Princess Anne Street. Cursing under her breath, she glanced down and found to her dismay her less than graceful slip had resulted in a scraped knee. A day that had begun when she read her ex-boyfriend’s engagement announcement in the local paper had ended with a bloody knee.

She had one pint of Double Trouble Chocolate gelato in her freezer that would serve nicely as an ice pack first and then dinner. She didn’t drink much, or smoke, but she did flirt openly with an ice cream addiction. As she unlocked her green Honda with the key fob, her ears began to throb in time with her knee due to a painful warbling song coming from somewhere nearby.

“I once met a girl in Kilkenny.”

“Drunk singing. And off key as well,” she muttered irritably. Given the day, all of her human kindness had disappeared long ago. All she wanted was her pajamas, some version of a crime show and her sweetly cold pint-sized obsession.

“She was only but one and twenty.”

“Okay, seriously. Who is that? I have pepper spray!” she lied, whirling around and groaning as her knee reminded her of her recent fall.

“Her hair and eyes and lovely soft thighs.”

That’s when she noticed him, lying on the bench in the courtyard of her library. On more than one occasion, she had found some poor drunk college kid nosily hurling into the bushes. Her library was way too close to many fraternities. Bethany sighed. Despite her mood, she knew checking on the drunk kid was the right thing to do. She began to limp toward the singing stranger, relieved to shift her focus from her miserable day to someone else’s drunken night.

“She left me with pain oh a-plenty.”

She grabbed her phone. “Excuse me, kid, I’m calling the police. It’s obvious you need help getting back to your dorm.”

“Oh, hi,” said the singer.

“Um, hello. I’m calling—” she began.

“No, I just need a bit o’ rest before I go back to the Hilton.”

“The Hilton? Very funny. Look, kid, I’m tired, and I want to go home. If you could just…”

The singing leprechaun on the bench began to shift awkwardly, moving to face her. “It’s been so long since I haven’t been recognized. Apologies. My name is—”

Her jaw dropped as recognition hit her. Without thinking, she blurted, “Oh my God! You’re Aidan Shannon!”

“Yes.”

“Why are you…?”

“Drunk?” he asked.

“Well, no. That’s not what I meant,” Bethany said.

“Oh, you sweet little bird, why are you bleeding?” the movie star said. His voice was enchanting. She knew that already of course, but hearing it unfiltered through surround sound had a visceral effect. So distracted was she by his voice, she almost missed his careful movement toward her knee. Her dirty, bloody knee. Jesus, what surreal rabbit hole had she inadvertently fallen into?

“Don’t worry about that, Mr. Shannon. I’m fine,” Bethany said, easing away from his intense gaze.

“You’re a brave thing, aren’t you? Let’s start again. Wait, I believe I’m too drunk to go backward. And please stop calling me Mr. Shannon. It’s unsettling.”

“I’m sorry,” Bethany said, her face flaming with embarrassment.

“So you’ll just call me Aidan, yeah?”