Hear My Heart: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  Emily nodded, resigned, and her heart ached. “You go play and I’ll fix dinner.”

  Grinning widely, Emily bounced up and ran down the hall, leaving her staring at her back. As she turned to the kitchen of their little house, she thought back to the coach. Aiden. More like asshole, she thought. Slamming the pan she had gotten out to make dinner down onto the counter, she winced. Slowly, she sucked in a deep breath and let it out. After all, it’s not the pan I’m pissed at!

  She continued to fix their meal, but her mind could not help but wander to the infuriatingly handsome coach. Tall enough for her to have to lean back to look into his blue eyes. A t-shirt that barely contained his broad shoulders and arm muscles. Hair that was too long, but looked soft enough to—

  Giving her head a shake, she forced those thoughts from her mind. Handsome or not, his personality was not winning any awards. I’ve been down that road before and it’s one journey I don’t plan on taking again.

  The next day’s crowd at the pub was thinner so Aiden was able to work in the back stocking the bar for several hours. When he came out, he cast his gaze over the tables to make sure the servers were attending to the customers. At the end of the bar stood a lone woman, her back to him and a takeout bag sitting on the counter next to her. Not waiting on the server, he walked over.

  “Can I help you?” he asked. His breath caught in his throat as she turned and lifted her gaze up to his. It was the woman from the ballpark, only today he could see her eyes. Dark, warm chocolate stared back at him from a face that was startling in its almost-perfection. Porcelain complexion, full rosy lips, thick lashes. His eyes were drawn to the slight scar that ran through her left eyebrow, but it somehow made her face even more interesting.

  As he stared unabashedly, his mouth not connecting to his brain, he noted her gaze jumped to just behind him and he turned in time to see Cheryl, the server, come over.

  “I’m sorry,” Cheryl exclaimed. “I was delayed in the kitchen. Here’s your card and receipt.”

  As the woman took the receipt and quickly signed it, he noted she was not wearing a wedding ring. Remembering he had made a comment about her daughter’s parents, guilt speared through him. That had been an asshole remark, in spite of his anger. Still, she probably busted her ex-husband’s balls, as well. Standing, she started to move past him but his feet remained rooted to the floor.

  “Excuse me,” she offered, turning sideways to slide by, her eyes not meeting his.

  “Sorry,” he said, unable to think of anything witty to say. Finally, he tossed out, “Listen, I’m sorry about—”

  “Save it,” she said through tight lips. Stopping with her hand on the door, ready to push it open, she twisted her head and held his gaze, unsmiling. “I come for the food, nothing else. Certainly not the antics of an overgrown Peter Pan.”

  His hands landed on his hips, his apology fading to a glare. “What the—”

  “Oh, you know, all that,” she waved her hand up and down in front of him, “for just one woman?” Her eyebrows lifted as she pushed opened the door and walked out into the sunshine.

  He stood stark still for a moment, her words—or, rather, his words—slamming into him. He wanted to be pissed at her uppity attitude but knew he had made an ass of himself at the bar the other night and she had obviously overheard him.

  Turning, he shoved the barstool, pushing it out of the way roughly as he headed toward the back. Seeing the receipt still on the table, he scooped it up. Amelia Smith. Okay, Miss Amelia. We’ll just avoid each other from now on.

  4

  “What’s up?”

  Aiden walked into the office of Finn’s, seeing Katelyn and Brogan already sitting in the cramped room. He glanced around, appreciating how Katelyn was able to keep the office from becoming overrun with piles of papers, receipts, orders, taxes, employee forms, and everything else they needed to run the business. She no longer worked on the floor, having become a partner in her husband’s business, Harrison Investigations, but there was no denying she kept Finn’s running behind the scenes.

  When Gareth, a private investigator, first came to town and opened his business, he needed a receptionist who could understand the operations. Katelyn had jumped at the chance and had become so fascinated with investigating, and Gareth, she had studied for and received her PI license shortly after beginning work there. Now, her work for the pub was mostly taking care of the paperwork, for which he and Brogan were grateful.

  “It’s that time again,” she quipped, waving some papers in front of her.

  “What time?”

  “Taxes,” Brogan cut in. “Jesus, Aiden, don’t you keep up with any of this shit?”

  Glaring at his brother, he said, “Of course I do, but didn’t we just do these?”

  “Yes, but we pay quarterly and it’s time again,” Katelyn said, her blue eyes scanning the papers on the desk in front of her. “And, it looks like there’s a necessary change as well as a slight problem last time.”

  His eyes widened as he glanced between her and Brogan, whose normally taciturn expression now included a tic in his jaw.

  “What?” he asked, his heart sinking at the thought of an accounting error that might sink the business.

  “First of all, Thomas Redding is retiring,” she announced, referring to the accountant in town who handled most businesses.

  Blinking, he jerked in his seat, ignoring the creak of the old wood. “Retiring?” The one-word question came out as more of a squeak, as he tried to remember a time when Mr. Redding’s accounting business was not taking up a small office off Main Street. Even as a kid, he ran past the office on his way to visiting his grandfather at Finn’s.

  Katelyn chuckled and shook her head in mirth. “He’s eighty years old. He’s been in business for fifty-five years!”

  Rearing back, his chair now groaned as though ready to break and Brogan shot him a look.

  “Jesus, Aiden, sit still. The furniture’s gonna fuckin’ fall apart if you keep moving like that!”

  Ignoring him, he continued to shake his head. “I had no idea he was that old. We should give him a retirement party here at Finn’s—”

  “Already on it,” Katelyn agreed, “but what we need to focus on is our taxes right now.”

  Remembering she mentioned a problem, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. “What’s up?”

  “Well, the good news is that he has sold his business to a new accountant. I’ve met with her, just this morning, and I like her. She’s quiet. Serious. Very professional. She’s also the one who let me know there was a problem last time.” Sighing, she continued, “It appears Thomas made a slight error and we underpaid by about five thousand dollars, which is not horrible, but that means we need to make it up this time so we don’t get hit with penalties.”

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he said, blowing out his breath while leaning forward, his forearms planted on his knees.

  “Any good news?” Brogan asked.

  “Well, Lia, the new accountant, said that she’s going over our past accounts and might have found a way that we were also overcharged in a few areas, so that might counter-balance the deficit.”

  “Good,” both he and Brogan replied at the same time.

  “She needed more of these forms and receipts,” Katelyn explained, picking them up and placing them into the open file on the desk. Gathering up the folder, she held it out to him.

  “What am I supposed to do with that?” he asked, brows snapping down together.

  “Take it to the accountant, of course.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because it’s your turn to deal with the taxes. We agreed that it was a burden we would share equally—”

  “Isn’t it Brogan’s turn?” he continued to argue.

  “No, Brogan did it the time before last. I dealt with Thomas last time, therefore, you win the prize this time.”

  “But you’ve already talked to this new lady. You know what the hell y’all talked about.”


  Katelyn’s face softened and she said, “Aiden, you’ll be fine. You don’t have to do anything but deliver the file and answer some general questions about the business. If she has questions beyond that, she can call me.”

  “Fine,” he bit out, his jaw tight and hands clasped in front of him. Standing quickly, he asked, “Anything else?”

  Brogan answered, “No man, we’re good.”

  He snatched the file from Katelyn’s hand and mumbled, “Sorry,” as he headed out, missing the shared look that passed between his siblings.

  Standing outside Thomas’ office, the title Redding, CPA, LLC painted on the window in gold letters, Aiden paced. He stared at the words, realizing that the new accountant had not added her name yet. Trying to remember if Katelyn mentioned her last name, all he could come up with was her first name. Lia.

  He glanced down at the folder in his hands, noting the edge was becoming moist from his sweaty palms. Quickly wiping first one hand, then the next, on the thighs of his jeans, he sucked in a fortifying breath. Blowing it out slowly, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  The outer office was the same as the last time he had been there. Dark, hardwood floors, buffed to a shine. A heavy wooden desk sat in the corner, elderly Mrs. Markham sitting behind an open laptop, the only modern accoutrement in the room. She looked up and smiled widely.

  “Mr. MacFarlane,” she greeted, peering at him over the top of her glasses.

  He smiled in return. She had called him Aiden until Finn had deeded the pub to him and his siblings. Once he became a business owner, she referred to him as Mr. MacFarlane. It always made him feel like she was talking to his father or grandfather, but he recognized that was her way of maintaining professionalism.

  “I understand I’m here to meet with the new accountant,” he said, hoping his voice did not show his anxiety.

  “Absolutely. In fact, she’s ready for you now. I’ll show you to her office.”

  He inwardly chuckled, since he knew there were only four rooms in the back and, with one a conference room, one a bathroom, and one a staff room, that only left one as an office. Following dutifully, he entered the same room as he had when meeting with Thomas.

  “Ms. Smith, Mr. MacFarlane is here.”

  Mrs. Markham stepped out of the way and closed the door behind him, leaving him staring at Amelia Smith. His eyes popped open as her brows lifted in unison. “You? You’re the new accountant?”

  She looked up, her mouth in a tight line and her mahogany hair pulled back in a bun, and focused her brown eyes on him. “Yes. I’m Lia Smith.” Her eyes narrowed slightly and she added, “I thought I was meeting with Katelyn MacFarlane.”

  “Well, looks like you’ve got me,” he snapped, sliding into the seat in front of her desk.

  “Fine.”

  She smoothed her hair back, but he saw no discernable strands out of place to warrant the action. She reached her hand out for the file in his hand and if she noticed the sweat-damp edges she did not say anything, for which he was grateful. As she scanned the contents, he took the time to carefully peruse their new accountant.

  She wore a white blouse with a lace collar, a single strand of pearls around her neck. Paired with a navy pencil skirt, she had a timeless, classic appearance. Classic, but cold. She gave off no warmth and he wondered, given how kindly she had looked at her daughter, if she could really be as cold as she seemed. Moving up, her skin was just as beautiful as he observed earlier. He mentally shook his head in derision. What did I think was going to happen in the last couple of hours, that she would have sprouted witch’s warts? And why do I even care? Rolling his eyes at his wayward thoughts, he startled when she began to speak.

  “As I told Katelyn, I’m a forensic accountant, not a tax specialist and expect to hire another accountant soon to help with the tax work. But, I’m certainly able to check over what Mr. Redding had worked on and give you my opinion.”

  He made no comment, so she continued. “It appears that Mr. Redding made a slight arithmetic error last time, causing your business to underpay your quarterly taxes by about five thousand dollars. That could easily be made up this time, but when delving a bit deeper, I also found an area that I think we can make that amount up and even save you a bit more.”

  “Good,” he nodded, glad that she could be professional in spite of their obvious dislike for each other.

  She swung a stack of papers around on the desk toward him and, with a yellow highlighter, began marking several of the lines of numbers. “If you’ll look here, you will see what I am talking about. These figures do not add up to what he has down here. And, with the missing tax-exempt additions, you can see where I have included those in our bottom-line figures.”

  “Uh huh,” he said, forcing his voice to have more conviction than he felt.

  She lifted her gaze to him and said, “Please, just look at the numbers and you’ll be able to verify what I’m saying.”

  “I trust you,” he bit out.

  Her eyes narrowed on his, but he ignored her.

  “Yes, but I’d like for you to verify the—”

  Standing suddenly, he said, “I’ve got to get back to work.” Walking to the door, he hesitated and looked over his shoulder, “Thank you, for what you’re doing. Really, we appreciate it. Just let us know what we need to pay, and we’ll sign the forms.” With that, he walked out of the office, tossing a wave toward Mrs. Markham, and then out into the sunshine. Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he felt the tension ease off him.

  Walking back into the pub, he offered a chin lift to Brogan behind the bar and headed back to the stock room. He was halfway through the reordering when Katelyn walked in behind him.

  “Everything okay with the accountant?”

  “Yep.”

  “Anything we need to know about?”

  “Nope.”

  Huffing, she walked around so that she was staring into his face instead of at his back. “Aiden?”

  Stopping, he put his hands on his hips and glared down at her. “Come on, Katelyn. Ms. Smith is obviously good at what she does, but she likes to make sure everyone is one the same page. Sending me in there to talk to her about the finances was kind of a shit move.”

  Sucking in her lips, her face fell. “Oh, Aiden, I’m sorry. I thought you would just deliver the files and answer any specific questions she might have. I didn’t expect her to start showing you what she was working on.”

  He heaved a sigh, dragging his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, sis. I shouldn’t have bitten your head off.”

  “Did it get uncomfortable?”

  Nodding, he admitted, “She wanted me to take a look at some of the numbers with her, but…I just said we trusted her.”

  She reached out and clasped his arm, moving closer. “It’s okay, you know.”

  Lifting his eyebrow, he said, “Oh, really? When’s the last time you got numbers switched backward?”

  “Aiden, there’s nothing to be ashamed of with how you switch numbers in your head. You understand math concepts perfectly. It’s just that visually you read them backward.”

  Snorting, he said, “Yes, and it drove my math teachers crazy.”

  Arching a perfect eyebrow, she retorted, “No, I think that was you being such a jokester in class!”

  Chuckling, he nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right!” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and threw his arm around her. “It’s okay. Really. I just felt like a bug under a microscope when I was in her office. Ms. Smith reminds me of a really uptight teacher.”

  Katelyn hesitated for a moment and he tilted his head, saying, “Cat got your tongue? That’s unusual.”

  She punched his shoulder and laughed. “I wondered what you’d think about Lia.”

  Recognizing the mischievious glint in her eye, he questioned, “Lia? Seriously? Listen, if you’ve got some cockamamie idea about hooking me up with her, you can get that outta your head right now.”
r />   “I just thought that—”

  “Sis, you’re smart, driven, and right now so crazy in love with Gareth and little Finn that you want the whole world to fart rainbows. But, don’t worry about me. I’m good. And, believe me when I say, there is not one little spark where Ms. Smith is concerned.”

  The two of them walked out of the storeroom and, ignoring Katelyn’s fallen face, he thrust the stock form into her hand. “Want to check this over?”

  She elbowed him in the ribs and said, “Nope. There’s one thing I never worry about and that is you ordering the wrong alcohol!”

  As they entered the pub, he walked behind the bar, his mood lighter—as long as he kept his mind off the pretty accountant. What he had told Katelyn was almost true. He had no intention of getting anywhere near Ms. Smith because, even as gorgeous as she was, as a person, she was uptight and judgemental. But at the same time, unfortunately, remembering the way she looked as she stared at him, there was definitely a spark.

  5

  Still reeling from her slam-bam meeting with the infuriating Aiden, Lia looked up as Mrs. Markham knocked on the door frame.

  “I hate to bother you, but the Mayor is here to speak with you.” Stepping further into the room, Mrs. Markham whispered, “I’ll warn you, he’s a bit pompous and rather pushy. But, he’s been mayor for a number of years here in Baytown.” Leaning down closer, she added, “He usually summons people to see him in his fancy office in the Municipal Building. For him to come here, alone, is…out of character, to say the least.”

  Nodding as she digested her secretary’s words, she stood and, smoothing her skirt, said, “Please show him in.”

  Rounding the corner, Corwin Banks entered her office, his smile wide and his hand out. Clasping hers, he vigorously pumped her arm up and down. He wore an expensive, tailored suit and his hair was meticulously styled. The image of a big fish in a little pond came to her mind.

  “Amelia, I’m Corwin Banks, mayor of this fine town. Been meaning to get over here to see who was taking Thomas’ place.”