Chapter 14
The smell of garlic and something buttery was already wafting through the pub kitchen when Sophie stepped inside. Keefe stood at the stove, humming an off-key version of something that may have once been an actual song but was now—at best— a call for help.
“Do you have to do that?” she asked, leaning against the fridge with her arms crossed.
“What? Cook? You want to handle lunch service today?” he replied without turning, sprinkling herbs into a bubbling sauce with theatrical flair.
“I meant the humming.”
“It’s called being in a good mood,” Keefe said. “You should try it sometime. Real crowd-pleaser.”
He glanced over his shoulder, flashing a grin.
Clearly, his sister wanted to talk. But she wasn’t looking for a fight or she would have started it by now.
“So, is this the part where you tell me I’ve lost my mind, or the part where you warn me Ruby’s secretly plotting to rob us blind and flee to the Alps? ”
Usually, Sophie would’ve had a snappy comeback locked and loaded. Instead, she stayed quiet—arms still crossed, brow slightly furrowed.
He raised an eyebrow and kept teasing, partly because he liked riling her up, partly because silence from Sophie was rarely a good sign. “Don’t tell me—you came to praise Ruby? Maybe get her name tattooed on your arm?”
“Shut up a minute—sorry.”
Not the usual way to start an apology. Let’s try that again, shall we?
“Neither,” she said, a bit grudging. “I’m here to say… I’m going to try.”
Keefe blinked, genuinely surprised. “Try what?” he asked, flipping something golden and buttery in the pan, the sizzle filling the silence. “Tolerating the sound of my voice? Finally admitting I’m your favorite sibling?”
“There are only two of us, and Bootstrap sings better.” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to try with Ruby. You know, give her a fair shot.”
She stretched her neck like it had taken physical effort to admit it. There. That hadn’t been so bad.
Keefe knew this change of heart had everything to do with what their aunt had said at dinner. “God bless Aunt Sylvia and her wisdom. Did she hit you with a ladle after dinner?”
“Don’t get cocky,” Sophie warned.
“Too late. I’ve got backup now. Aunt Sylvia’s Team Ruby.”
Sophie ignored that. “I’m not saying I’m sold, but I’ll try to not roll my eyes every time you mention her—which, by the way, is constantly,” she added.
Keefe grinned over his shoulder. “You noticed. I’ve been subtle.”
He had the nerve to flutter his lashes.
“You’ve been unbearable,” she said flatly.
“Unbearably charming, maybe.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “You’re nauseating lately.”
“Yeah? Well, how about this: I’m proud of you.”
She gave him a sharp look. He just had to get sentimental about it. “Don’t make me take it back.” She figured that seeing as she was on a roll here that she would take the second step now. “So, how is Ruby?”
“You can ask her yourself later. She’s coming for dinner. I’m making her favorite: game pie. Then she promised to help me in the kitchen.”
“She can cook?”
“No, but she sits on the counter and tells me I’m hot and brilliant, which really brings out the flavor in my brown sauce.”
Sophie rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “You’re disgusting.”
Keefe grinned, clearly delighted with himself. “Would now be a good time to tell you that Ruby’s started calling me Honey Bunny ?”
Sophie stared at him. “Please tell me that’s a joke.”
“Nope. Full-on, no-shame Honey Bunny . She even does the voice.” Sophie looked physically ill which only fueled Keefe’s fire. “You know,” he said, fluttering his lashes again and pitching his voice high and breathy. “‘My sweet little Honey Bunny Wunny!’”
“Jesus Christ,” Sophie muttered, turning toward the sink like she might dry heave. “You are the worst.”
“I think it’s adorable,” Keefe said, practically glowing. “I told her she should get it engraved on a spatula.”
“Would you excuse me? I’m late to set myself on fire.”
Oh no, she wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t done yet and he saved the best for last. “She said I’m full of surprises. So, yeah… I owe you a fruit basket. Maybe a whole edible arrangement—you know, with the chocolate-dipped bananas and strawberries?”
Sophie slapped a dishtowel onto the counter like a gavel. “You have got to stop! Stop speaking!” she cried covering her ears.
He shrugged, utterly unbothered. “You wanted to talk, I’m talking. You can’t just stroll in here and expect dignity.”
She lowered her hands and crossed her arms again. “I came to say I’ll try to get to know her. That doesn’t mean I want to hear about your cutesy pillow talk and whatever nauseating code names you’ve invented.”
“Well, we do have one that’s?—”
“Don’t. Even . ” Sophie slapped a hand up like a stop sign.
Keefe snickered and turned back to the stove, flipping something smugly, humming again just to push his luck.
Sophie shook her head. “Look, I don’t hate her.”
“That’s practically a love letter coming from you.”
“I still think you’re diving in headfirst, but... I see it. She’s kind. She didn’t flinch when I was a bit... me.”
“Ruby likes that you’re blunt,” Keefe said, his tone softening. “She said it was refreshing.”
Sophie narrowed her eyes. “She really said that?”
“She did. And then she told me I was brave for being related to you. I think she gets us.”
She slowly nodded. If Gwen got them, she would be the first. “Just... don’t get hurt, okay?”
He glanced over at her, a flicker of sincerity breaking through the mischief. “I won’t. But thanks for caring.”
“I don’t,” she said immediately, a bit too fast. “I just don’t want to deal with the fallout when you go full drama queen.”
Keefe grinned. “Fair enough. But when we get married, I’m making you give a toast. You’ll have to say Honey Bunny in front of everyone.”
Sophie was already heading for the door. “I’m not coming to your wedding.”
“You’re gonna be the maid of honor!”
She gagged dramatically. “Okay, I’m leaving now. I regret this entire conversation.”
But at the doorway, she paused and turned back.
“I’m trying,” she said again, and this time there was weight behind it. An offering.
Keefe met her eyes and nodded, all the joking gone for a beat. “That’s all I need.”
She gave him a look. “And stop singing in the kitchen, would you? It’s weird.”
“You love it.”
“Nobody loves it.”
And with that, she pushed the door open and left, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.
* * *
It was one of those nights when O’Brian’s was packed wall-to-wall.
The part-time waitress hadn’t shown up, and tickets were already backing up in the kitchen.
Gwen, never one to stand by idly—even though her hands still trembled with the secret she’d been meaning to confess—grabbed an apron off a hook and tied it around her waist.
“I can’t cook but I can wait tables,” she called into the kitchen.
Keefe glanced up from the grill, giving her that easy smile that always made her heart do a funny flip. “You sure you want to jump into this chaos, love?”
She winked, though the knot of guilt in her stomach pulled a little tighter.
She’d tried to tell him who she really was a dozen times—last night while they cleaned up after closing, again this morning over coffee but every time she began, someone interrupted, or Keefe would look at her like she was the most important thing in the room, and her words would die on her lips.
Sophie was too busy to be surprised. She was just grateful for the help. She told Ruby where to start, said a genuine thank you, then hustled out the door carrying a full tray of food.
Before long, Gwen was weaving through the crowd, a notepad tucked into her apron pocket, and a tray balanced on her hand, laughing and chatting away.
A while later, Sophie ducked behind the bar and grabbed two glasses of water, handing one to Ruby. They both leaned against the back counter, taking a breath as the clatter of cutlery and hum of conversation filled the pub.
“Thanks again for jumping in,” Sophie said, brushing a damp strand of hair off her forehead. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Ruby smiled. “It’s either this or sit at home watching Mastermind and yelling at strangers through the screen.”
Sophie grinned, then nodded toward a man at one of the booths, practically oozing over the table toward Ginny. He was grinning and talking with his hands with his chest puffed out like a prize rooster.
“That one’s about two compliments away from pulling a muscle,” Sophie said low enough for only Ruby to hear.
Ruby took a slow sip of water. “Should we intervene?”
“Ginny can hold her own. He’s about thirty seconds from getting a biology lesson on where she’d like him to shove that smile.”
Right on cue. Ginny turned on her heel and the rooster, now deflated, sat down.
They both laughed—tired, breathy, but genuine.
Ginny joined them and Sophie poured her a glass of water then passed it to her.
“Nice work over there handling that guy,” Gwen said.
Ginny flapped her hand in the air as she took a long drink of water. “He’s harmless. He’s proposed to me every week since I came here. It’s those other guys over near the fireplace that worry me. They were having words a minute ago. Something about a horse.”
Gwen set down her empty glass just as someone called her name from the kitchen window. “Order up!” She slid back into the flow, grabbing the tray and balancing it with ease.
Sophie smiled, watching Gwen weave through the crowd, with a calm, collected energy that made her look like she’d been doing this for years.
The din of the pub buzzed around her—glasses clinking, laughter bellowing. It was an easy, untroubled sound… until a sharp, too-loud voice sliced through it.
Two men at a nearby table stood abruptly—chairs screeching, drinks sloshing. One of them bumped Gwen as she was setting a plate down, nearly knocking the tray from her hand.
“Oi!” she snapped, steadying it. “Watch it.”
They didn’t even look at her. Chest to chest, voices raised. They were about to blow.