Best Of My Love (Home to Green Valley Book 4)

by Virna DePaul

  “Why? What am I missing?” He hated that they were having fun with him.

  “Erica and Rob have been seeing each other since right after you left for Ireland,” Brady said. “He’s in here every night of the week.”

  Oh, shite.

  “It’s better for you, buddy boy,” Quinn warned, having suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “You know our agreement. Hands off the staff.”

  Riley rolled his eyes and nodded, then turned back toward the door. He peered through the small window at Erica and Rob, brow furrowed in thought.

  Hands off the staff?

  Fuck. He’d been wanting to get his hands on Erica for what felt like forever. And he’d been spending most of that time with his hand on his own staff as a result.

  He couldn’t bear the thought that he’d fucked up.

  That by waiting too long to make his move, he might have missed his chance at getting to know Erica better.

  In bed and out.

  Chapter Two

  Erica smiled at Rob, but couldn’t help noticing Riley retreating to the kitchen. What had he been about to say when Rob walked in?

  “Hello?” Rob asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

  She smiled. “Sorry. My head’s in the clouds. It’s been a weird afternoon.”

  “Weird? How?” He was so sweet, so caring. If he had looked at her that way, with his head tilted to the side and a kind, inquisitive smile a day earlier, even a half-day earlier, she would have melted down to nothing. They would have needed a mop to clean her off the floor. But now, with Riley back…

  She made herself focus on Rob. He deserved that much. “Oh, my car wouldn’t start until, like, the tenth try. I know it won’t last much longer. I’m behind in studying for exams, and I can’t take a night off since I need the money for a new car. I just know that stupid piece of junk is going to leave me stranded one night.” She shuddered to think of being stranded while going home from work, at two or three in the morning.

  “Ask to leave early, at least. You need the time to study. Besides,” he smiled, “if you ever need a ride, I can pick you up.”

  There was something lacking in the offer, something she’d heard in Riley’s voice that was missing in Rob’s. His big, brown eyes were so sincere. That was nice, but there wasn’t that spark, that promise of something more than his words revealed. She didn’t feel the same head-to-toe flush she had when Riley looked at her with his pale green eyes and smoothly hinted she should ride him.

  Dang it, she thought. Why’d he have to come home and screw everything up?

  “Thanks.” She leaned over the bar to give Rob a quick kiss, and parted from him just as quickly when the kitchen door swung open and the O’Neill boys strolled in.

  “How’s it going, Rob?” Brady stepped behind the bar and shook his hand.

  “Not bad. Yourself?”

  “Life’s grand,” he said, and his brothers groaned but in a way that told Erica they were only doing it on principle. They couldn’t be happier that Brady was so head-over-heels in love.

  “Is Anna coming by tonight?” Sean asked.

  “I’m actually taking off early and going to meet her.”

  “Whoa. This is becoming a habit. You boys taking off early to meet with your girlfriends,” Erica teased.

  “If things go the way I’m planning, soon Lilly will be my fiancé, not my girlfriend,” Quinn said.

  “Things will go well,” she said. “She’d be a fool to turn you down, Quinn, and she’s no fool.” She smiled at Riley, trying to bring him into the conversation, but he was having none of it. Was she imagining things, or was he sulking? What would he be sulking about? He’d only just gotten home.

  Erica finished getting things ready behind the bar, checking the stock of bottled beer while reminding herself what an odd duck Riley could be. He had a mercurial personality—one minute he was Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, the next he’d be quiet. It always sucked her in—the temptation to fix him when he was brooding and bring out his happier side.

  How many girls did she know who wanted to fix their boyfriends? She’d never wanted to take on that role. When Rob had asked her out after spending the first few weeks of the semester flirting with her, she’d jumped at the chance. Riley had just gone away, and she’d wanted to forget him.

  She hadn’t, evidently, seeing as how Rob faded to a shadow of himself whenever Riley was around. Rob was a cute guy—handsome, even, with a football player’s body and a business major’s brain—but next to Riley, he wasn’t anything special.

  Unfortunately, despite his earlier flirting, Riley had made it equally clear she wasn’t anything special to him.

  Erica pointedly turned away from Riley and back to Rob.

  “So, how was your day?”

  * * *

  When she first took the job at The Stylish Irish, Erica had no idea what she was getting herself into. She was self-aware enough to worry about her complete lack of bar experience and the fact that she wasn’t much of a drinker herself. Not only did she not know how to mix drinks when she first took the job, she didn’t recognize the names of even the most popular cocktails.

  Something about her had clearly appealed to the owners of the pub, though, because they’d hired her. What was it? She couldn’t imagine. She wasn’t overly pretty or flashy. She didn’t dress sexy, the way she saw other bartenders dress. Thankfully, that didn’t affect her tips. The pub attracted a higher-level clientele who knew the value of good service. She never had to worry.

  Still, it had been real trial by fire, those first few weeks. She’d broken more glasses than she cared to remember. Riley had jokingly threatened to take the cost out of her paycheck. He never had.

  His gorgeous face and smoking hot bod aside, it was his teasing sense of humor that had originally attracted her to him. The way he always seemed to be laughing, first at himself, then at life. He never took anything too seriously—at least, that was how he’d seemed to her at first. Over time she’d come to recognize the carefully constructed front he put on for the rest of the world. He didn’t want anybody getting too close to him, seeing too deeply into his heart. So he played Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky.

  He was easily the most charming of his four brothers, and the other four had charm to spare, so that was saying something. He had a devilish grin which always seemed to melt her from the inside out. She’d known she shouldn’t let herself fall for him, but it had been inevitable. She’d been lost the first day they’d met, when he’d smiled and said hello.

  They were definitely closer than just a boss and his employee. He’d asked her questions and really listened to the answers. She’d told him all about her business courses, and he’d told her about Ireland, and his worries about the business—mostly about the fear of coming off as a fraud in a town filled with established pubs and restaurants. He never would have let his doubts show to the rest of the world, though. She’d felt so special when he first opened up to her.

  She’d quickly realized he saw her as a friend, or maybe a sister, nothing else. That in and of itself had been flattering, as the O’Neill brothers were so close. Knowing she’d earned even a little bit of their respect and admiration meant a tremendous lot. There were times when she really felt like a part of the family, like when they closed up together, laughing over the night’s antics, all of them tired and happy. Feeling proud, like they’d accomplished something.

  She knew they’d defend her to their dying breath, too. Making the customer happy was always the first priority, but woe to he who thought he could put his hands on Erica. More than once they had thrown out a drunken, obnoxious creep without blinking an eye, all at her request. No questions asked, either. They trusted her judgment.

  How could she not love working for them? She’d stepped into a terrific job when she’d answered the ad they’d put in the newspaper.

  Who still put ads in newspapers? That alone had been enough to intrigue her. It had been a good move on her part, calling them up.

 
Sure, she’d once hoped for more. The first time she’d seen Riley, she’d dreamed he’d fall madly in love with her and they’d live happily-ever-after.

  It had been too much to hope for, of course, but even if she and Riley remained just friends, she’d be thankful for his presence in her life.

  * * *

  “Two drafts, please, dear,” Sean grinned.

  “Watch who you’re calling ‘dear’,” Rob joked.

  At least, Erica thought he was joking. He sounded as though he was. He didn’t look completely amused, though. He looked jealous.

  “Dear,” Erica said, smirking at Rob, “Sean signs my checks. He can call me almost anything he wants.” She fixed Sean with a stare. “Almost.”

  “No offense intended,” Sean said, grinning at Rob before taking the beers to a table.

  “I don’t like the way they talk to you around here,” Rob grumbled.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Calling you ‘dear’ and ‘love’ and all that. I’m sure it flies in Ireland, but not here.”

  “Rob, they don’t mean anything by it. They’re all good guys. You’re here enough to know that. They don’t mean anything negative by it. Believe me, I’ve heard worse than that—not from them, but from customers. And they make sure those customers never come back.”

  “Don’t be so easily fooled,” Rob advised in a sanctimonious tone Erica was quickly tiring of. “Just because they’re protective of you doesn’t give them the right to call you whatever they want.”

  Some people took one Women’s Studies course and thought they were experts.

  “You’re right. I’m the one who gives them the right to call me what they want, and I think it’s okay that they call me by little endearments. It’s cute. I don’t mind. I like it.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t come in every time I’m working; then you won’t hear it.” An icy silence settled between them. She wouldn’t have argued with him about it in the past. What was so different, all of a sudden? She used to think his possessiveness was sort of cute. Now it irked her to no end.

  “Do you not want me here?” Rob asked. The fight was gone from his voice.

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t want you to be here if it bothers you, the way they talk to me. It doesn’t bother me, so I won’t tell them to stop. And if you want me to, maybe you need to reconsider the way you think about me. Do you see what I’m trying to say?”

  She left him for a minute, taking care of two checks. When she returned, there was a look of understanding on his face.

  “That was such a jerky thing for me to do,” he said, looking embarrassed. “Here I am, trying to stick up for you, and I sound like a patriarchal pig.”

  Erica resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “That’s the long and short of it, yeah. That’s pretty much how you sounded.”

  “Ugh, what a jerk. I hate guys like that. I’m sorry.”

  She smiled and told him it was all right, but inside, she seethed without understanding why. What was it that suddenly bothered her so much about him? Why did everything he said come off as pretentious. Like he was reciting from a feminist handbook.

  What had changed?

  She turned around and sighed to herself, knowing exactly what had changed.

  She’d thought Riley was out of her heart forever. She’d been sure of it, hadn’t she?

  He’d left. She’d started seeing Rob. End of story. Riley would move on—not that he had to move on, since they were never actually together. They’d never even kissed, never had a moment that seemed as though it might lead to a kiss. They were practically siblings.

  So how had he managed to ruin her for all other men, even men who tried as hard as they could to make her happy, the way Rob did? Why wasn’t Rob good enough, when he’d been more than good enough just a day earlier?

  Damn you, Riley, she thought, pouring a drink for customer but wishing she could drink it herself.

  Chapter Three

  “Look who it is! One of the O’Neill boys!”

  Riley grinned at the owner of The Twisted Cork, a small bar just down the block from The Stylish Irish.

  “I thought you were in Ireland,” Pete Flaherty said, waving Riley toward a stool at the bar. Like the pub, the Cork was just starting to pick up for the evening, and the place was still rather slow.

  “Just got back yesterday.”

  “And you’re here, instead of to your own restaurant? Shameful.” Pete clucked his tongue, and Riley chuckled.

  “Checking out the competition, don’t you know.” Riley raised a pint glass which had been conveniently slid his way when he sat.

  “How was the old country? It’s been how many decades since I stepped foot on its emerald shores.” The older man let out a mournful sigh.

  “Beautiful as always, and rather rainy as always.” Riley winked.

  “Aye, that sounds about right. It’s a comfort, knowing how little has changed.”

  “You’re not missing so much, though I don’t know why you don’t go back there yourself. If only for a small holiday. You’re always talking about how you want to go.”

  “I know, I know. It seems there’s always something in the way.”

  “Don’t keep making excuses, or soon you’ll have no excuses left.”

  “Such wisdom, at such a young age. So you always go after what you want, eh? Without fear of the repercussions?”

  Riley stared at his drink. “Not always. And that’s left me with some regret, Pete.”

  “Ah. I can see that, you looking so glum and all. That why you’re here? To be glum outside of sight of your brothers?”

  Riley lifted his drink and took a long swallow. “Just needed a change of pace, nothing more, Pete.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. And how’s business treating you?”

  “You’d know for yourself, if you’d ever step foot in the place.”

  Pete ran a hand through his snow-white hair, chuckling. “I’ve more than enough to do here. Besides, I’ve taken a look inside once or twice.”

  “So you know, then, that we’re doing just as well as ever. Not taking business away from you, I should hope.”

  Pete filled two more pint glasses for new customers. “Not at all. The beauty of having a different specialty.” He pointed to the wall behind him, which encased five dozen bottles of wine on tap. He dealt mostly in wine, whereas The Stylish Irish mostly handled beers and whiskeys.

  “Riley!” A woman called out from behind him.

  He turned and grinned at the beautiful redhead.

  “Welcome back,” Shannon, Pete’s daughter, said.

  The old man had waited until rather late in life to settle down, and Shannon was roughly Riley’s age. While her father was around, she was quiet, standoffish, only stopping to say hello before she carried a tray of drinks to a table. For the sake of her father, he kept his eyes away from her ass as she crossed the room.

  There was something to be said for being a free man, and from the eyes Shannon made at him, it didn’t appear he’d have to be alone for long. Something inside him felt immensely satisfied, especially since he was still a little sore over seeing Erica with her boyfriend yesterday.

  Boyfriend. Ha! The guy looked like some sort of mooning, puppy-eyed loser who would follow her around like a lovesick animal. She didn’t need a man like that. She needed a man with energy, vitality, someone who could sweep her off her feet and leave her gasping for breath. Somebody like him.

  He clenched his jaw, cursing himself for still wanting to ask her out. She wasn’t worth the complications or Rob trying to wipe the floor with him. Riley would only humiliate the fool, and possibly lose his bartender in the process. She was a good bartender, too. His brothers all liked her. If she left, it would be his fault for fighting with her boyfriend and causing issues. He’d never hear the end of it.

  No, best to leave her to her own devices and pay more attention to the cute little redhead eyeing
him up like dessert. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

  “I’ve got to get back to the office. I’m glad you stopped in, for sure. Say hello to your brothers for me,” Pete said, shaking Riley’s hand. “Glad to have you home.”

  “Glad to be back,” Riley replied, quite sincerely.

  No sooner had Pete gone into the kitchen than Shannon approached the bar. “So, Ireland was grand, yeah?” Shannon asked, imitating her father’s accent. Thirty years and he still hadn’t lost it entirely.

  “’twas,” Riley replied, making her giggle.

  “I’m glad you’re back. It’s so boring around here while you’re not around.”

  “Please. Like you don’t have a million guys in here every week. You can take your pick, Miss Shannon Flaherty.”

  “Not the same, Mr. Riley O’Neill. And you know it. Besides, Dad would have my head on a spike if he knew I was messing around.”

  Riley nodded sagely, knowing how religious Pete was. Though he was a man of the world and ran an establishment in which people met and dated all the time, Pete would never accept his only daughter “running around” with men.

  Shannon had a few free minutes, and Riley shared stories of his friends back home. She’d never been to Ireland, but had heard all about it from the day she was born. Her father would always consider it his home. Riley was happy to give her a more updated view of the country.

  “Next time you go, perhaps you’ll want company,” Shannon hinted.

  Riley let the hint roll off his back—it was always like that, with her dropping hints and him letting them hit the floor. Hers wouldn’t be the only head on a spike if Pete ever caught them together. Pete laughed with Riley about the attention he got from women, but would never accept his daughter being one of those women.

  “You should make it a point to go some time,” Riley said. “Find out where your people come from.”

  “I’d rather go with you. Get an insider’s view.” She was stubborn, this girl.