Flirt With Me (With Me in Seattle 17)

“Doesn’t feel fake, but none of it has this week. It just is what it is.”

But before she can say anything else, a sploosh of water floods the floor from beneath her maternity dress.

“Well,” Izzy says in shock. “I guess I am in labor.”

“Call an ambulance,” Keegan announces, and I immediately reach for my phone and dial 911. Someone cuts off the music, and everyone gathers around.

“Take some deep breaths,” Keegan says to his wife, rubbing his hand in a circle over her back.

“I do not want to have this baby in a bar,” Izzy says between breaths.

“We’ll get you to the hospital,” Maggie says and then turns to the kitchen, yelling, “Ma! Come quick!”

“What’s all the fuss?” An older woman draped in a white apron with red hair just like her daughters’ bustles out of the kitchen while wiping her hands on a tea towel. “What’s wrong?”

“Izzy’s in labor,” Maeve says. “Sorry, Hunter, these are my parents, Tom and Fiona. This is Rachel and Hunter.”

“Oh, we’ve heard about you,” Fiona says as she sidles up next to her daughter-in-law and takes over rubbing the woman’s back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Maybe Rachel and I should go.”

“No way, Dad,” Rachel says, shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to miss this.”

“You stay right here with me,” Tom says with a wink for my daughter.

“Oh, God, I have to push.” Izzy meets her husband’s gaze with scared eyes. “I seriously don’t want to have the baby in the bar. Why is this happening so fast?”

“I suspect you’ve been in labor all week,” Fiona says.

“Let’s get her upstairs then,” I announce and hurry behind the bar. Keegan takes her head and shoulders, and I lift her legs, and we easily carry her up the stairs to the apartment above. We lay her on the bed, and I make a hasty retreat back downstairs.

“Send the paramedics up when they get here,” Maeve says as she and the other women rush past me to help Izzy.

“Is she going to have the baby up there?” Rachel asks when I return to the bar.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“She’s in good hands,” Tom says calmly. “My Fiona knows what to do. She had five babies of her own, and has helped plenty others have their wee babes.”

“I like to listen to you,” Rachel admits to Tom, and the older man smiles gently. “I like your voice.”

“It’s glad I am to hear it.” He pats her shoulder. “Do you want some cake? My Fiona made some, and now that she’s busy, we can sneak a bit, you and me.”

“I love cake. What kind is it?”

“Apple, and it’s the best you’ll ever have. And that’s the truth of it. Come now, we’ll get us some.”

Tom leads Rachel into the kitchen, and people start coming through the doors.

“What’s going on?” Shawn asks as he and Lexi join me. “Maeve called but only said to get our asses over here.”

“Izzy’s having the baby upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Lexi asks. “Holy crap, I’m going up.” She tosses her handbag onto the bar and hurries to the stairs.

“I have no interest in going up there,” Shawn says with a shudder. “I don’t care if that makes me a coward. I’ll stay here and be moral support from afar. Kane and Anastasia are on their way over.”

“Why isn’t the ambulance here?” I ask but hear sirens in the distance. “Ah, here they come.”

“It can take a while around here,” Shawn says. “It’s bloody annoying.”

Paramedics rush in, and we direct them upstairs. And then it’s quiet. We hear voices, footsteps rushing above us.

Maeve runs down. “It’s too late to move her. She’s pushing. It’s going to be a bit, and then they’ll take her to the hospital.”

And with that, she runs back up.

I blow out a breath and decide to check in on my daughter and Tom. Before I can push through the swinging kitchen door, I can hear them talking.

“You were a wee bit short with your da out there,” Tom says.

“I didn’t say anything bad to him,” Rachel replies.

“It’s not what you said, but how you said it,” Tom says.

“I guess I get frustrated with him sometimes. Or, a lot of the time. He’s just so strict. So…bossy. Like I’m not old enough to make my own decisions or something.”

“How old are ye then? Thirty?”

“No, I’m fifteen.”

“Ah, that’s a good age, and that’s for sure. But, you’re not fully grown yet, and your da’s just trying to be a good father. I know because I’m a da meself, and I raised five babies. I have to admit, if my kids spoke to me that way, even today, it would hurt my feelings.”

“Your feelings?”

“Of course. Because I love them, and I wouldn’t speak to someone I love like that. What if you didn’t have your da anymore? If something happened to him?”