Chloe wasbusy at work all night. In addition to managing, she had to fill in for Joyce, who had called in sick. More like called in because of a party, but whatever. It was the nature of the business when you hired young people. She’d been the same way at twenty-two, much to her parents’ dismay. But she grew out of it, as most did.
As manager, she tried to be understanding, but this was Joyce’s third time calling in this month. If she didn’t have a really good reason, Chloe would have to let her go. Firing people was one thing she didn’t like about this job. She’d only had to do it one other time and her stomach had been in knots for days. She liked Joyce, so she hoped there was a good excuse for the absence.
Saturday night at the Black Rose was busy. It wasn’t a club, so the atmosphere wasn’t loud music and sweaty bodies dancing, but there was a constant flow of customers. After dinner, which often consisted of families or friends eating before a night out, the bar filled with many regulars. They talked and drank. Sometimes there was a game on TV—international soccer or rugby—or local teams depending on the season. Chloe tried to stay on top of enough of it to chat with patrons, but sports weren’t her thing.
She was beginning to wonder if she had a thing.
Her apron was filled with cash. It was one thing she missed from being a full-time waitress. She was a damn good waitress and tips came easily to her. She was so busy talking with her customers and reminding them that it was last call, that she hadn’t thought about the time. She’d told Ronan she got off at two, but he hadn’t committed to coming here.
Now that the time neared closing, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Images of Ronan shirtless, sweaty, muscles bulging ran through her head.
Focus on work. Closing the bar. Chances were he wouldn’t show up. He didn’t want to have anything to do with her. He said as much in his mother’s kitchen. She doubted her bit of gossip from the Cahills would draw him to the Black Rose at two in the morning to buy her a drink.
As the clock struck two and there was no sign of him, she called herself stupid for thinking there had been a possibility he would show. At two-thirty when customers were gone and the cleaning crew was setting up, she was resigned to having a drink alone to forget she ran into Ronan Doyle.
She locked up the front door of the Black Rose and when she turned, she saw Ronan leaning against the passenger door of his truck.
Damn. He came.
“I didn’t think you’d show.”
“You said you finished at two. I figured that was your way of saying you didn’t want to drink here.” He opened the door he’d been leaning on and waved her in. “Did you have somewhere specific in mind?”
“There’s a four o’clock bar around the corner. We can walk.”
His only answer was to engage the alarm on his truck.
She turned toward Last Shot. It was a total dive bar, but since they were open later than the Rose, the staff often went there for a quick drink before heading home. As she walked, she glanced down at her clothes. She looked like she just finished working. If she had known he was actually going to show up, she would’ve changed into something nicer. She would’ve put on makeup.
Ronan quickly caught up to her and then slowed to match her stride. If she wore heels, she wouldn’t feel so short next to him, but in her sneakers, she had to crane her neck to look into his eyes.
“How was work?” he asked.
“Good. Busy.” What the hell was she doing? She’d wanted to go on a date with Ronan Doyle since she was a teenager—even before she dated his brother. They were finally alone and she had nothing to say. Way to seduce him, Chloe.
“How long have you been working at the Rose?”
“Over a year. After I lost my last job, my dad asked Mr. Byrne if he could use me. Now he has me doing management stuff. What made you decide to get a job at Cahill?”
“I’m rehabbing a house and missed the regular paycheck.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence. At the next corner, green neon lit the doorway. Ronan reached across and opened the door for her.
“Hey, Nate,” she called to the bartender.
“Hi, Chloe. What’ll you have?”
“Beer?” she asked Ronan.
“Why don’t you grab us a table and I’ll get the drinks.”
“Okay.” She turned and found a table in the corner.
Ronan followed a minute later carrying two drafts. Sliding one in front of her, he said, “I held up my end. Now tell me what Cahill said about me.”
Her heart sank. He did only come because he wanted to know what she’d overheard, not because he had any interest in her. She didn’t want it to bother her, but it did. She sipped her beer before speaking.
“Alan laid into Danny about you. Not yelling, but you know the way dads do when they’re pissed and want to make sure you know.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Her gaze shot up to meet his. No, he wouldn’t know that tone. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Nothing to be sorry about. My father had plenty of time to use that voice with me before he disappeared.”
She took a deep breath. “Anyway, it wasn’t clear why Alan was mad. He said he thought you were up to no good, like Brendan. That made me laugh. I mean, come on. If he thinks Brendan is trouble?” She paused but got no reaction from him. The ominous way Danny had spoken still kind of spooked her. She lowered her voice for the next part. “Then Danny stood up, said it’s been twenty years. Again, no explanation.”