6. Declan
DECLAN
Planning a celebration of Maeve’s life hadn’t exactly been on my to-do list, but I was happy to put aside my daily tasks as the manager at O’Sullivan’s to help Bree.
She settled in the seat across from me, her coffee held tight in both hands like she worried it would run away from her if she let go.
The fluorescent light above us flickered, casting shadows across her face that made the dark circles under her eyes more prominent. She’d probably slept like shit.
Hell, I hadn’t slept much either, but my reasons had nothing to do with grief and everything to do with the image of Finn’s hand on the small of her back as they’d climbed those stairs.
I crossed my ankles, my foot bumping hers beneath the table. “Sorry. So. What else do you suggest for the celebration?”
“How long have you worked here?” Bree lifted her head, a sheen of tears in her eyes.
Ah, so she needed a bit of a distraction before we worked through the details.
I could give her that. “Let’s see. I started out cleaning tables in high school, then moved behind the bar once I was old enough to sell drinks.
Maeve made me manager ten years ago.” I’d grown up with the Sullivan woman as my role models.
Maeve cared for me like a mother. Shayla treated me like a brother, and I’d always thought of her as a sister.
Seeing Bree as anything except Shayla’s daughter and someone I should look out for created a problem for me I’d never expected. I shouldn’t be attracted to her.
The rational part of my brain screamed that she was off-limits. Shayla’s daughter. Maeve’s granddaughter.
But the rest of me–the part that noticed how her fingers wrapped around the coffee cup, how her bottom lip caught between her teeth when she was thinking–didn’t give a damn about rationality.
Feeling any kind of sexual way toward the woman sitting across from me made me a sleaze…right?
Damn it all. I didn’t need this right now. Not ever, really, but especially not when faced with her vulnerability and my own suddenly questionable moral compass.
“I used to sit in Nana’s office and draw pictures of you as a leprechaun.” Bree grimaced and finished her coffee. “I don’t know why I thought of that. You’re definitely the wrong size for that.”
I snorted, grateful for the subject change even if it did dredge up memories of a tiny Bree with crayons clutched in her fists. “How old were you? Seven? Eight?”
“Nine. And you had the most ridiculous green hat in my drawings.” She traced a pattern on the table with her fingertip. “Nana hung one on her office wall for years. It’s probably still there.”
My chest tightened. Yeah, I’d seen that drawing.
Maeve pointed it out every time she wanted to embarrass me.
Time to bring the subject matter around to someone else.
“I’m the wrong size for a lot of things, but if you want someone who’ll dress in green tights and prance around the pub, you’ll have to ask Finn. ”
A bright, easy laugh took all the worry off her face. “I bet he’d do it too.”
“He would.” Especially if she smiled at him like that.
Hell, I’d be tempted to do it for one of those smiles.
The knots in my stomach relaxed.
We could move on to business now and get this whole mess behind us.
And I could box up the jealousy blistering my skin every time I thought about Finn walking her up the stairs last night. It had taken him a while to come back down.
I hadn’t timed him, but I knew Finn. I knew what he was capable of, and how fast he could get the job done.
I’d seen him at work often enough.
The thought made my jaw clench. Bree wasn’t some random hookup. She deserved better than Finn’s usual MO of charming a woman into bed, then acting like nothing happened the next morning while he moved on to the next willing woman.
I’d watched him operate for years. Hell, there were times I’d helped him operate, running interference when things got messy. Like that whole shitshow with Bethany.
This was different. This was Bree, and I had an obligation to protect her. Even if I was protecting her from herself.
“Is tomorrow too soon? Mr. Devaro said he’d have her ready in the morning.” Swallowing hard, Bree crossed her arms on the table and rested her chin on top of them. “I hate this.”
My lungs forced every bit of air out in a rush. “Yeah. Me too. She’d hate missing St. Patrick’s Day, but that’s the pub’s biggest and busiest day. Not sure we could pull off having our annual party and her celebration at the same time.”
“We need to decorate. She’ll haunt me if I don’t at least bring out her favorite shamrock mugs. And we have to switch the coffee creamer over to her Bailey’s Irish cream.”
It was one of Maeve’s stranger idiosyncrasies about the holiday, but she insisted they only use Bailey’s in coffee the day before, day of, and day after St. Patrick’s.
“I’m willing to make the exception in her honor.
It’s already in the refrigerator.” I scratched my cheek, where a rough edge of my nail nearly tore off a hunk of skin.
Bree either didn’t hear or chose to ignore my muttered curse. Turning her head to the side, she rested her cheek on her forearms. “When I decided to become an event planner, I never thought those skills would come in handy for this.” She sighed, eyes fluttering shut.
Exhaustion carved itself into every line of her face. Without thinking, I reached across the space, my hand hovering near hers before I caught myself and retreated.
What the hell was I doing?
Comforting her was one thing.
Touching her was something else, especially when my brain kept supplying helpful images of exactly how and where I wanted to touch her.
An instant later, she sat upright and pulled her phone from her pocket. “Time to stop messing around and do this right. Checklist time.” She tapped and swiped. Frowned and shook her head, then nodded. “This will do. You said you can get word out at the newspaper. Are you sure it’s not too late?”
“Nope.” I tapped my phone where it rested in my pocket. “I can send an email now. Barb has been waiting on me to let her know the plan. She’s promised to hold a spot.”
“Right. Small town. I almost forgot how different the rules are here.” Her frown deepened. “Can you update the social media sites too? I’ll take care of printing pictures and decorating the pub, but I need you to double check that we have all the supplies to have both parties back to back.”
“I’ll take care of that this afternoon.” I checked my watch. Two more hours until we officially opened for the day, but there were a few regulars who’d shuffle over an hour early in hopes of some gossip and hot coffee.
It wouldn’t be hard to get the word out. Once those two old codgers heard the news, they’d spread it like wildfire.
Add in a few phone calls to friends and an announcement on the radio combined with the paper releasing in the morning.
Every person in town should know in plenty of time to come by. Hell. I’d better double up on the Bailey’s and Guinness.
Maeve would’ve loved it. The chaos and the noise, the whole town turning up to send her off. She’d have been right in the thick of it, telling stories and pouring drinks until someone physically removed the bottle from her hands.
The pub wouldn’t be the same without her.
If I closed my eyes, I could still see her, still hear her voice cutting through the crowd to call someone out for being an idiot or to welcome a regular like family.
We might be a small town, but we also knew how to throw one hell of a going away party.
Bree hadn’t had that.
My throat tightened as I took in her carefully controlled posture and too-tight expression.
She kept it together, but the strain showed.
“What about desserts?” I kept the question light, remembering how she took offense to Finn’s comment last night.
“Maeve always said it wasn’t a party without cake. ”
Bree pushed air through flattened lips. “She always loved the spice cake from the bakery, but she always asked to have it made special. I never knew what she asked for.”
“I do, and Duncan, the baker who took over after his mother passed, has the recipe. I’ll call him.”
A few quick blinks tamped down the sheen in her eyes. “You really know a lot about her.”
“Honey, I practically live here. I’ve known Maeve longer than I knew my own parents. She’s the one who taught me that hangover recipe.” I laughed at the memory of the first time I’d needed it.
“What?” Bree looked around like she might find the answer behind me.
I took a minute to gather myself. “The first time I ever drank, I didn’t realize how powerful Maeve’s stuff was.
I overdid it. By a lot. She found me sick as a dog in the back alley, puking my guts up.
Once she finished laughing, she lectured me, then taught me how to fix it.
” My throat convulsed, and I turned my head to avoid looking at Bree.
My pain was nothing compared to hers.
“I called her on my twenty-first birthday and asked what I should drink to celebrate.” Bree’s watery laugh wrenched my heart. “She told me to stick with coffee.”
A breath wheezed through my lungs. “Sounds like her. I’m sure people will have all sorts of stories about her tomorrow.”
“I wish I had a chance to hear them from her.” She stood and paced between two sets of tables.
Her arms swung by her sides, but the tightness in her hands and the way she held her head stiff and slightly too high, showed her grief.
She fought it admirably and most people might not notice the strain.
“If she was here, she’d give you hell about last night.” I rested the back of my head on the edge of the booth and gave her a grin. “And about Finn.”
It was the closest I was willing to get to asking outright what happened.
Bree stopped in her tracks. “And I’d tell her to mind her own business.” She matched my smile. “Which would annoy the shit out of her and then she’d give me hell for backtalking. She always said I had too much sass and not enough discipline.”
“But you made it through boarding school.” I rolled my head to the side and tried to ignore the pinch of guilt stabbing at me for what I was about to do. “I think she’d agree with me when I say be careful with Finn.”
“Yeah, going to need a bit more clarification on that. Neither you nor Nana get to be vague if you’re going to try and run my life.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
Did she even realize how much she resembled Maeve when she did that?
Shit. I’d dug this hole, and I had to figure a way out of it without coming across as pretentious, a creep, or jealous. Should be a breeze. “It’s none of my business.”
“Damn right, it’s not. But you started the conversation. Finish it.”
I couldn’t ignore the challenge in her voice, so I swung my legs around so I faced her. “Finn has a bit of a reputation as a playboy. I don’t want you getting hurt.” I almost pointed at her, but that felt a little too commanding and pretentious. “That’s all she’d say.”
“Well, I appreciate the warning and your concern, but I can take care of myself.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder before strolling around behind the counter and starting another pot of coffee. “And as you pointed out yesterday, I’m a woman now. I don’t need you to give me warnings.”
Right. Of course.
She put me in my place as easy as Maeve ever had.
She’d be okay.
It would take time, and I needed to keep my opinions out of it.
Even if she hooked up with Finn?
I hoped it didn’t come to that.