Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alicia
It’s barely five o’clock in the evening and Paddy’s is already slammed.
I had a meeting with my manager at the country club after my lunch shift, so I was late getting to the pub.
I’ve been serving drinks for an hour and still haven’t even cut up limes.
Usually, by five o’clock, the bar is completely set up, and it’s smooth sailing from there.
Tonight is already feeling like we’re gearing up for stormy waters.
“What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?” The reedy voice immediately triggers memories from years past.
Something about the tone and the way he drawls the word “drink” has me clenching my teeth. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I hold it for four seconds before releasing the breath. I plaster a smile on my face and turn to take care of the asshole demanding his drink.
No.
No fucking way.
“Hey, baby girl.”
It’s my father.
Older and grayer, but the green eyes he shares with my sister are clear—something I’ve never seen on his face before.
Panic starts to set in as my hands begin shaking, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck.
I’m dangerously close to puking, and for a second, I actually consider letting it fly straight across the bar to the man smiling at me like he wasn’t a worthless piece of shit who gave up his wife and kids for drugs.
“What the fuck do you want?” Surprisingly, my voice is steady and emotionless.
He startles, brows flying high on his forehead before furrowing in disapproval. “Now, is that any way to talk to your old man after not seeing each other for so long?”
“I wouldn’t know what it’s like to speak to a father because I haven’t had one. So again, what the fuck do you want?”
“Ally girl,” he croons, using the name he called me when I was little.
“Alicia.” I correct him. “Now, either order a drink, or get out of my bar.”
A line is forming behind the man responsible for half of my DNA. Paddy is in the kitchen, making stew, and our busboy is out sick, so it’s just me.
He scowls, showing no sign of budging. “I just want to talk, girl. Can’t you spare me a few minutes?”
“No, I can’t. Unlike you, I take my career seriously and have a strong work ethic. And, in case you didn’t notice, there’s a line of people waiting to order their drinks.” I nod toward the customers behind him.
Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, I watch as his face transforms into the charming facade he uses when he knows he’s been caught.
“Sorry, folks,” he addresses the patrons around him. “This here is my daughter, and I haven’t seen her for several years. You’ll forgive a man for wanting to catch up.”
A few people make noises of sympathy, and it makes my blood pressure rise. “No, don’t feel sorry for him. What he’s not telling you is that he was an absent father because he’s a drug addict that never gave two shits about his family, and the reason he’s been gone, is because he’s been in prison.”
Eyes widen at my outburst before narrowing at him. This pisses him off and he whirls to point a finger at my face.
“This conversation isn’t over, little girl. I’ll wait here all night if I have to, but you will hear what I have to say.”
Squaring my shoulders, I lean forward, making sure he can see just how serious I am. “The only way you’re staying here is if you are a paying customer, which we both know is highly unlikely, so do us all a favor and leave. Permanently.”
I watch as his face becomes mottled with rage. As a child I would have ran and hid, but that little girl is gone now.
“You little…”
“Mister, the lady asked you to leave.”
I was so caught up in my father’s drama that I didn’t even notice Isaac enter the pub, let alone come up to the bar.
He stands a good foot taller than my dad, arms crossed over his massive chest, making his biceps bulge.
That white t-shirt he’s wearing is precariously close to having some ripped seams.
He has to step back in order to fully look into Isaac’s face, but when he does, fear flashes in his eyes and his throat bobs. The coward knows he doesn’t stand a chance.
“I was just…”
“Leaving,” Isaac finishes for him. “You were just leaving.”
With one last pleading glance in my direction, my father exits the pub and air whooshes from my lungs in relief. But then the adrenaline kicks in, and I’m shaking all over while tears well.
Warm hands wrap around my shoulders, pulling me into a soft chest and belly.
Paddy envelops me, holding me tightly, and I breathe in the scent of his cologne.
I’ve never asked him what he wears, but in this moment I realize how much I’ve come to associate it with comfort.
It’s spicy with an undercurrent of wintergreen.
I bury my forehead into his chest, breathing deeply to keep the sobs I know I are building up from escaping.
“It’s alright, lass. He’s gone now.” Weathered hands rub my back and he continues to murmur reassuring words into my hair.
Finally, I feel composed enough to lift my head. I’m met with Paddy’s hazel eyes, surrounded by wrinkles he’s gained not just from age, but laughter.
“There she is.” He smiles softly then suggests I take a moment for myself. “Catch your breath, and freshen up, yeah? Let this old man run the front for a bit.”
Normally, I’d protest, steel my spine, and get on with it, but seeing my father has shaken me to my core.
Nodding, I take a step back. “Yeah, thanks Pat. I won’t be a minute.”
“Take your time, love.” He winks then calls out to the line. “Alright, you lot, since you’ve been so patient, for the next half hour, you’ll get two pints for the price of one!”
Cheers ring out as I duck through the swinging door, making my way to the bathroom.
I give myself a few minutes to calm my breathing, splash some cold water on my face, and wipe the smudged mascara from under my lower lashes.
Tossing the paper towel in the trash, I open the door and nearly scream bloody murder when I see a hulking figure leaning against the wall by the door, arms folded over his chest.
“Isaac!” I screech, clutching my hand over my heart. “You scared the hell out of me!”
His radiant smile lights up the hallway. “My apologies. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“Thank you,” I tell him sincerely, reaching out to give his arm a quick squeeze. “Not just for checking, but for basically coming to my rescue. That had the potential to be very bad.”
He shrugs one massive shoulder. “Not a problem. I’m used to dealing with difficult people like that.”
I quirk a brow at him. “Do you make it a habit of being surrounded by difficult people?”
Isaac smirks. “Something like that.”
“Oh, come on,” I tease. “You have to give me more than that, or else I’m going to think the worst.”
There’s a deep rumble of a laugh before he says, “I’m just fucking with you. I’m a bouncer at a club back in Indiana while finishing up med school. I’m doing clinicals now.”
“Med school? That’s ambitious. What field?”
“Sports medicine.”
He doesn’t elaborate, so I ask, “What are you hoping to do with that? Private practice? Work with a specific team?”
He shrugs. “I’m open to anything, honestly. There’s not a sport I don’t enjoy.”
“What about that new dancing soccer thing? I can’t remember what it’s called, but it’s soccer, only you have to dance the entire time.”
“Discofoot,” Isaac informs me, a trace of amusement in his voice. “And as ridiculous as it is to watch, it’s actually pretty intense. Soccer’s already a high intensity sport, but add in dancing? There’s a lot of room for error, which leads to injuries.”
I nod, considering the truth of his words. I’m not an athletic person. Sports and I have never been friends, and frankly, I haven’t been interested in anything enough. The only time you’ll catch me watching—and cheering for—a sport is when Ro is playing. And how that man plays….
“Good point,” I admit, then push away from the wall. “Well, I better get back out there before Pat gets too overwhelmed. Thanks again for coming to my rescue. I owe you one.”
His large hand darts out, catching my elbow gently. He’s not being aggressive, but it still makes me wary. I look down at where his fingers wrap around my arm, his dark skin a stark contrast to the pale surface of my own.
“Actually.” He hesitates, moving a bit closer, and if I’m not mistaken, he sounds nervous. He clears his throat before continuing. “I was wondering if I could take you out sometime.”
I jerk my head back in surprise. That’s flattering. Isaac is a beautiful man, and I can’t remember the last time I was asked out on a date. Not even Ro has taken me out. All of our time together has been…more.
Rowan.
Extricating my arm, I smile politely. “I’m extremely flattered, but I’m actually seeing someone.”
“Ah.” He takes a step back, folding his arms over his chest again. He studies me a moment before smirking. “Is it serious?”
Snorting in response, I tell him that it’s headed that way.
“But it’s not there yet?” He cocks his head to the side. “That means there’s still a chance.”
A sharp laugh bursts from my chest, and I shake my head at him. “No, not really.”
“Am I not your type?”
I snort again. “Not sure what you’re getting at, but it has nothing to do with your looks. You could be anyone’s type.”
A smug grin spreads across his face. “So, you find me attractive.”
“Oh please,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at him. “You know you’re hot. It would be stupid to deny it, but I can find someone objectively good-looking without being attracted to them.”
“That’s only because you haven’t spent enough time with me,” Isaac counters. “Which is why you should let me take you out.”
I freely admit that I’m a flirt. It comes with the job, but it’s time to shut this down. Even if my feelings for Ro weren’t….whatever they are, a cheater I am not.
“Listen, Isaac,” I say flatly. “Again, I’m flattered, and maybe if I wasn’t with someone I’d give you a chance, but we’re exclusive, and I have no intention of changing that.”
He holds his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright. I hear you. Can’t blame a guy for trying though.”
He gets another eye roll before I step past him so I can resume tending bar.
“But, Alicia,” he calls after me, and I look over my shoulder. “When he doesn’t satisfy you, I’ll be around to make up for it.”