Flirt With Me

by Kristen Proby

It smells like heaven.

  “And what is it I can do for you?”

  I turn at the Irish accent and find a man, roughly my age, waiting behind the bar.

  “A Guinness,” I say. “And a menu.”

  “Coming up,” he replies as he passes me a menu and reaches for a clean glass to start building my drink. “So, tell me. What is Hunter Meyers doing in my pub?”

  I grin. “I’m in town for a couple of days, looking around. I’m a fan of Irish pubs, so if the food is as good as it is across the pond, I’ll probably be in here every day.”

  “It’s better.” He winks at me and pushes the glass my way.

  I order the chicken wings and fries, plan to run an extra two miles tomorrow, and sit back to enjoy the show. A few people glance my way, but no one really pays me any mind, and I relax.

  I don’t mind talking with fans, but it’s also nice to feel a little anonymous, to just sit back and enjoy.

  Three waitresses make their way through the busy bar. Two redheads and a blonde.

  The blonde looks familiar, but I can’t place her.

  Suddenly, both of the redheads—they must be sisters—jump up on the stage and start singing with the band, a lively Irish number that I’ve heard a few times before.

  But never quite like this.

  When the one with the darker auburn hair laughs and jumps down off the stage to heft her tray and make her way to the bar, I feel my stomach tighten.

  That thick hair is tied up in a messy pile on the top of her head. Her green eyes shine as she laughs and chats with her customers, making her way toward me, weaving through tables and bodies.

  She has an hourglass figure with a tiny waist, but hips and tits that would make the gods weep. And when she glances my way, and those Irish eyes meet mine, my world tilts on its axis.

  “You’re new,” she says playfully, with a wink. “But I see my brother set you up already with a Guinness. Did you order food?”

  “I did.”

  She nods. “If he slacks off, give me a wave and I’ll help you out.”

  “Here’s to hoping he slacks off.” I grin at her, pleased when that smile spreads easily over her gorgeous face. “Nothing against your brother, he seems like a nice guy, but I’d much rather have the attention of a gorgeous woman.”

  “My sisters are around here somewhere.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “You. I’d rather it were you.”

  “Well, isn’t it handy then that I’ll be here all night?”

  And with that, she’s off and running again.

  I sip my beer, enjoying the atmosphere of O’Callaghan’s. My eyes keep drifting back to the gorgeous redhead with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. I’ve been too busy lately to take much interest in a woman. I have plenty on my plate as it is.

  But there’s something about this woman that’s grabbed my interest.

  “You went for the wings,” she says as she delivers my food. She sets the basket in front of me and nods toward it with a smile. “A good choice.”

  “What’s your favorite thing on the menu?”

  “The stew.” She winks, and then she’s gone again, but I notice, as I eat, that she lets her gaze wander my way as she hustles back and forth between her tables.

  I’m surprised when I take my first bite of dinner. The bartender was right. It’s better than I’ve had before.

  “Need anything?” My waitress asks and props her hands on her hips, which only makes her T-shirt stretch enticingly over her breasts. “More napkins? Another beer? My phone number?”

  I laugh, but I find myself nodding. “I’ll take all three.”

  “Coming right up.” She winks and hurries behind the bar to pass me napkins. “Keegan, this handsome man needs another beer.”

  She pulls one of the napkins off the top and jots down her number, then passes it to me.

  “I’m not one for handing out my number,” she says and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Just to make that clear.”

  “Why me?” I fold the napkin without even glancing at it and tuck it in my jeans. I fully intend to use it while I’m here.

  But instead of answering, she just winks and gives me a sassy grin, then she’s off to check on her tables.

  Yes, the island looks promising.

  Chapter 2

  ~Maeve~

  Someone is licking my toes.

  I turn in the bed and pull off my sleeping mask, open one eye, and stare down into big brown eyes.

  “Murphy.” I sigh and squint at the clock. “It’s only nine in the morning, you know.”

  Murphy lets out a whine and rests his chin on the bed.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You want breakfast.”

  I yawn and sit up, stretching before stepping into my soft slippers.

  Murphy is my eldest brother’s big yellow dog. When Kane and his wife, Anastasia, are out of town, one of the siblings keeps the dog.

  Kane and Anastasia are in San Francisco this week for a museum opening featuring some of my big brother’s work. I’m damn proud of him.

  And, I’m happy to have Murphy around. He’s good company.

  “But you get me up too early when I’ve closed down the pub the night before.” I scratch his ears and lead him to the kitchen.

  I open the back door so he can run out and do his business while I scoop him some food and get to work on coffee for myself.

  I enjoy working evenings at O’Callaghan’s for my brother, Keegan. The pub’s been in our family since I was little—when my parents moved to America from Ireland and opened the bar here on our little island. Keegan bought it from Ma and Da a handful of years ago so the parents could retire and split their time between Washington and our little Irish village near Galway.

  Helping out is fun, and I’m happy to do it. Especially when something unexpected happens like last night. I don’t think I’ve ever flirted that much with a customer. I know for a fact that I’ve never given my phone number out to anyone. I kept asking myself all night what in the world I was thinking, but then I’d swing by the stranger, and he’d smile in that ridiculously sexy way, and I had zero regrets.

  None.

  So, yeah, the pub can be lots of fun.

  But, Jesus, it’s hard to have two completely different sets of responsibilities.

  I might moonlight as a waitress, but my first love is real estate. I’ve been selling homes on the island for several years. I like showing properties and helping people find the places they want to call home.

  And it’s a good thing that Murphy woke me because I have an appointment with a new client at ten-thirty. I’m showing him three homes today, all on the water.

  This client must have quite a bit of money. Which doesn’t hurt my feelings because that means the commission will be a good one.

  I like my little house, but I’ve been saving up for my dream home. It just came on the market, and this new client could be my ticket to that purchase if I find the house for him, and the commission is high enough.

  I open the door for the dog, and as he eats, I sip my coffee and nibble on some toast, then make my way upstairs to get ready for the day.

  My real estate clothes are far different from my pub attire. In the evenings, I’m in jeans and T-shirts, my hair tied up, and I usually leave looking disheveled, covered in something, and smelling like beer and French fries.

  But during the day, for showings and closings, I’m in a shift dress, heels, and my hair is down around my shoulders, the curls tamed as much as they can be.

  I apply my makeup with a light hand, wanting to be cool and professional. When I’m all ready to go, I smile down at Murphy who’s been watching every move I make.

  “I think we’re ready to go. You’re going to go hang out with Shawn and Lexi today, okay?”

  Murphy’s mouth drops open in a doggie grin.

  “Let’s go.”

  We make our way out to the car, and I drive over to the house on the cliffs that I sold to Shawn a couple o
f years ago, not long before he met his wife, Lexi. My brother and Lexi are both writers and work from home, so Murphy can hang out with them while I’m busy.

  “Good morning,” Shawn says as he steps outside to meet us. “And hello to you, boy.”

  He rubs Murphy’s side and watches me with those steady green eyes.

  Out of all of us siblings, Shawn is the quiet one. The most logical.

  And, sometimes, he sees too damn much.

  “You look tired.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s a nice way of saying I look like shit.”

  “If I thought you looked like shit, I’d say so. Didn’t sleep well?”

  “Do I ever?” I shrug. “Insomnia is a bitch. I closed the pub last night and sat up doing some research for a new client until about five. Murphy here woke me at nine, but it’s good he did because I’m meeting said client in a few minutes.”

  “Do you work tonight?”

  I flash a grin. “Of course. It’s the weekend, Shawn. Are you and Lexi going to man the kitchen?”

  “Of course,” he echoes. “It’s the weekend. I’ll see you later, then.”

  He waves and ushers Murphy into the house.

  The pub is a family affair. We all do our part.

  I check the time and the address of the first home I’m showing, and realize I’m running just a smidge late.

  I hate that.

  I need to get there first so I can open the place, turn on all the lights, and make sure it’s ready to show.

  I’ve shown this first house to several couples. It’s on a nice piece of property at the tip of the island, but the interior needs a little updating. I encouraged the sellers to do just that, but they’re not interested. They just want to unload it.

  So, I’ll keep showing it until someone decides they want a project.

  To my relief, I’m the first to arrive and hurry through the house, flipping on lights and opening doors and windows to let in some fresh air. The doorbell rings, and when I reach the front door, I open it to a tall, muscly man with light brown hair, a scruffy chin, and a cocky grin.

  “Oh, hi.” I clear my throat and look a little closer, then feel my face flush with embarrassment. “It’s you. From the pub last night.”

  “I was about to say the same thing.” He slowly looks me up and down, taking in every inch of me. From the interest in his brown eyes, I’d say he likes everything that he sees, and his gaze sets my pulse to hammering and makes me swallow. Hard.

  “You must be Hunter Meyers.”

  He raises a brow. “I am.”

  “I’m Maeve O’Callaghan, the realtor.” I hold out my hand to shake his, surprised by the strength in his grasp and the little zing that passes between us. “I guess we never got around to exchanging names last night. Come on in.”

  He steps in behind me as I walk ahead.

  “This is the first house we’ll see today. I have two others lined up.”

  “I found another online last night,” he says. When I glance back, I notice that he’s not checking out the house. His eyes are on me. “Is there any way I can see it tomorrow?”

  “Sure, I just have to give the seller twenty-four hours’ notice. Which one is it?”

  I turn to him and watch as he taps his phone. I’m so close to him, I can feel the heat coming off of him. I touched him a few times last night―just a hand on his shoulder. I laughed and flirted like it was going out of style.

  And he’s my freaking client.

  I’m horrified.

  Hunter turns his phone to me. “This one.”

  My stomach sinks when I turn my attention to his screen.

  It’s my house.

  “I’ll just make a call when we’re finished here.” I try to smile at him and then gesture to the living space we’re currently standing in. “Go ahead and have a look around the house. I’m here if you have any questions.”

  “Thanks.”

  I give him space to wander around and take in the views, check out the rooms.

  “The view is one of the best on the island,” I say as he returns to the living space.

  “It’s a good view, but the house isn’t my style.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and watches me with interest.

  I want to climb him like a tree.

  But I’m working.

  “It could be, with some TLC and sweat.”

  He smirks. “I’m not handy when it comes to home improvements. I think I’d rather have something more move-in ready.”

  I nod, not surprised.

  That seems to be everyone’s response to this house.

  “Okay, do you want to follow me to the next one?”

  “First, I want to address the elephant in the room.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Last night.”

  I clear my throat and look down, but he reaches over and taps my chin, making me look him in the face again.

  “Why are you embarrassed?” he asks.

  “Because I was way too flirty last night. If I’d known you were my client, I wouldn’t have behaved that way. I know it was mostly harmless, but—”

  “Have I given you the impression that I thought you were inappropriate last night?”

  I bite my lip and frown when his eyes narrow on my mouth. “No. You haven’t.”

  “Good. Because I had a good time. And I’m reminded that I was a little rude if I didn’t introduce myself to you and ask for your name.”

  “I wrote it on the napkin I gave you,” I reply.

  “I haven’t looked at it yet,” he confesses. “I was going to call you later after I looked at houses.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “You were?”

  “Yes. And I still might. But first thing’s first.” He gestures for me to lead the way. “After you.”

  “You go ahead. I have to turn off lights and lock up real quick.”

  “I can help with that.”

  Before I can decline the offer, Hunter hurries through the house with me, buttoning it up so we can move on to the next property.

  I lock the front door and turn to him. “Okay, I think we’re ready to move on.”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  I pause when I see the vehicle he’s driving. The gorgeous, flashy car.

  “Is that a Rolls Royce?”

  He flashes that smile again. “Yeah.”

  “May I ask what you do for a living, Mr. Meyers?”

  The smile leaves his face, and he stares at me with skepticism. “You don’t know?”

  I shake my head. “Should I?”

  “The bartender…he knew.”

  “Well, given that my brother and I don’t share a brain—and thank God for that little mercy—I can say that I’m not aware of who you are. Aside from Hunter Meyers from Seattle. And you drive a Rolls. Oh, and you like chicken wings. And you flirt with waitresses.”

  His lips twitch now. “I don’t always flirt with waitresses. I was a mixed martial arts fighter until recently.”

  “That explains the muscles.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but Hunter doesn’t seem to mind.

  He laughs and then nods. “I guess so. Noticed the muscles, did you?”

  “I mean, they look like they’re going to bust through that T-shirt.”

  His grin widens, and he crosses his arms over his chest, making the muscles even more prominent.

  I’m not blind. I’m a red-blooded woman. Hunter is hot with a capital H. The kind of hot that melts panties and makes a girl daydream about things.

  “I’m fascinated by whatever is going through your head right now,” he says, clearly enjoying himself.

  If I don’t move us along, I’ll drag him inside and have my way with him.

  “Let’s just go look at the other houses.”

  I turn my back on him and get into my car, starting it up. When he’s done the same, I pull out of the driveway and head toward house number two.

  On the way there, I c
all the realtor representing my dream house and set up a showing for tomorrow. Then, I quickly Google my client, just so I’m not completely blind, and continue to make a fool of myself.

  Well, of course, Keegan knew who he was. Keegan watches all of those fights. Even plays them in the pub. But I don’t really pay attention. Still, Keegan should have said something. He saw me flirt with the man. Aren’t brothers supposed to say something?

  We pull up to the next house, and I get out of my car, trying not to fidget when I feel Hunter stand close behind me as I unlock the front door.

  “All of the homes you’re interested in have great views of the water,” I inform him as we walk inside. “This one also has a pool, which is heated and in a pool house because of the cold weather here.”

  I tell him all about the many great things the property has to offer and then let him explore. Out of all of the homes I’ll be showing him, this is the largest.

  It’s a lot of house for one person.

  Especially when it’s a vacation house.

  But, I learned a long time ago not to judge.

  “Okay, this isn’t bad,” he says when he returns to the kitchen a few minutes later. “I like the pool, but I’m not crazy about where the master suite is. No water view.”

  “You could change it,” I suggest. “Convert the two bedrooms that face the water into a master suite. Or, you could add a brand-new addition onto the main level down here with great views.”

  “True.” He nods thoughtfully, looking around the space. “Okay, this stays on the list.”

  “Great.” Hope takes root in my chest that he won’t choose the house that I want. I’m so close to buying it, I can taste it. “We have one more on our list for today.”

  “And then you should have dinner with me tonight,” he says smoothly.

  “I don’t usually date clients.” I cringe and shake my head. “I really should have asked for your name last night.”

  “I didn’t ask you on a date,” he counters and walks out of the house ahead of me. “It’s just dinner. We can discuss house buying and call it a business meeting. See? Not a date at all.”

  I raise a brow and lock the door behind us. “What a clever offer. Unfortunately, I can’t have dinner with you. Or a meeting. I’m busy tonight.”