by Aliyah Burke
He picked up a hot pink square and lined it up. “I’m listening.”
“It’s not easy for people to get into the music world or scene unless they have money, or a great agent. But it is not easy. And I know from personal experience, it’s hard to keep putting yourself out there if all you get is doors slammed in your face.”
She looked back up when she watched the material in his hand settle upon on rock hard thigh. His gaze waited.
“Keep going.”
And so she did.
* * *
Finn watched Emmie as she talked. His heart fell as he did. This was her place but she was running this by him as if he had a say in what happened. Or she gave a damn about his opinion.
Either way, he wasn’t willing to rush her. He wanted her to take her time and explain it all out to him.
She had seen something different in those boys than he had. To him it was nothing but trouble, casing the place to see if there was anything worth stealing.
“What do you think?”
I think we need to revisit you sprawled on top of me on the floor. Where your breasts push into me and my cock is cradled by the vee of your legs.
When she’d mentioned kissing him he nearly captured her mouth right then, but someone had restrained. Now he was going to be jacking off downstairs once more or in the shower again.
“You know what I think about them.”
She clenched her jaw and leaned forward.
He held up a hand. “But. I see the wisdom behind what you’re talking about. I think it could benefit the pub if you had live music a few nights. Hell, maybe just Friday and Saturday. Don’t make it an everyday thing, but special and unique.”
Her glow wrenched his heart from his chest and he just fucking handed it to her. How the hell this slip of a woman had pushed beyond all his defenses and got him supporting her decisions when he’d wanted her gone to reclaim his pub, was fucking unanswerable.
“I’ll call them tomorrow.”
“I still think they are looking for trouble.”
“You can think that if you want. I think they are just trying to make a name for themselves and have had so many doors slammed in their faces, they went to the one place that may not. A pub in Ireland run not just by a woman but an American black woman.”
He didn’t have a response. It didn’t appear she expected one. Which was good, he knew no matter how long he thought about it, he wouldn’t be able to come up with a reply that expressed what he wanted.
They spoke a bit longer then she slipped away and brushed her teeth before padding to her bed. “I’ll have some curtains up for you tomorrow. I may have to have you put them up but I just need to do some final touches on them.”
He walked to stand by her, gazing around her space. “Just yell when you need me.” And he wasn’t just talking about for the curtains. “Goodnight, Emmie.”
“Finn.”
He forced himself to walk away as she turned down the bed and arched an eyebrow at him, her hands on the hem of her shirt.
Fuck, he wanted to offer her a hand with that as well. He’d love to strip that shirt off her and indulge in what she kept hidden from the world.
It was a hard night. As in, he was fucking hard all night. He was up and gone before the sun had even crested the horizon.
As he departed Kells coffee in hand, he tipped his head up and saw there were not a lot of clouds in the sky. He should be able to get a lot done around the pub today. So long as his materials were delivered as they should be.
He sipped as he walked, nodding and calling out greetings.
“Finn Brannon!”
At the corner, he paused as he craned his next to see who hollered his name. A low growl rose within his chest as he stared at the rapid approaching figure of William Foley. Bastard had been extremely vocal of his dislike of one Emmie Donaghue and her owning the Emerald Myst.
He finished his coffee and lobbed the empty cup into the trash receptacle beside him. “Foley.”
The man’s face was an angry mottled red. Finn pushed his hands in his pockets as he watched him barrel close.
“You went to Smythe.” The accusation hurled from the man’s thin lips.
Finn barely moved as he watched him with the disguised caution of one observing an animal who was backed into a corner. “I hardly think who I do business is falls anywhere close to the realm of your damn business.”
“I’ve known you longer than Smythe, we grew up together. We were lads together.”
“So.”
“Then what the fuck is this. That money would have helped my family.”
A shrug of I don’t give a damn rolled over his shoulders. “You pick and choose who you will work with. Amazingly, it’s a luxury I have as well. Prices may be higher with Smythe but he’s not bogged down by stupid shit like racism.”
Foley’s face flushed a deeper hue of red. “She doesn’t belong here.” He fisted a hand. “I don’t even think she’s of Patrick Donaghue. I told her not to complain to you, bitch can’t listen. Probably just some scam her kind is known to—”
He didn’t even think, just reacted. Grabbing Foley around the neck, Finn and slammed him into the wall of the nearest shop. Eyes nothing more than narrow slits, he stepped close to the man he had dangling from his punishing grip.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low and deadly. “I must have misheard you. What were saying?” He squeezed harder. “Did you threaten her to keep her from telling me you’re a racist prick?”
The man couldn’t talk and his face was turning an ugly shade of purple.
None of the yelling behind him penetrated the circle that contained him and Foley. His gasps were coming fainter but he didn’t care.
“Sáirsint Brannon!”
That did it.
Whipping around and standing at attention, he shot his furious scowl at his grandfather who strode toward him, a scowl on his own face.
“Are you trying to get sent behind bars? Is that what you want me to tell your Ma? Is that what you want for ma only child? To have to visit her son in jail where he is staying for murder?”
Finn couldn’t find the words and blinked before turning back to William Foley who had been in the process of trying to escape. The man froze when he lasered his gaze on him.
“I’m saying this to you one time, Foley. If you or your boys tries to make any trouble for her bar, I’m coming to take payment out of you.” He pushed up into his personal space. “I don’t care if that means your wife has to whore herself out to make up your payments. Tell your racist fucking friends to make a wide berth around Ms. Donaghue and the Emerald Myst.”
Foley tried to hold his gaze but couldn’t.
“Do I make myself clear?”
His thinning hair moved as he bobbed his head.
“Speak.” Finn’s command was a bark.
“I understand.”
“That also goes for anyone who wishes to work with her. They aren’t to be messed with or you’ll find out exactly what I did in the Army.”
Turning his back on Foley, he focused on his grandfather and walked over to him.
“You do realize what you just did, right lad?”
“Shut a racist fuck down.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Problem with that?”
“I can still beat your ass, lad, mind your tongue.” His white bushy brows converged in warning. “I’ve known her longer than you and like her far more than you.”
Somehow he didn’t believe that. All he did was grunt. A plane ride to Ireland from the United States didn’t qualify in his mind as him knowing her for so much longer but his grandfather wasn’t a man to take lightly.
There were things about the man that didn’t always add up. Were he one to believe in the stories about the wee folk and the magic of the Isle, he would think the old man to be one of their numbers.
The silence stretched between them. Finn would have shifted had he not served his country and faced down men like this before. His grandfa
ther crossed his arms and turned his head to the left seconds before he shot a stream of tobacco juice to the ground.
“Thought you quit that. Ma isn’t going to be happy.”
“I’ll handle my daughter. This is serious, Finnegan.”
“Because you’re making it that way.” He fisted a hand and forced himself to relax. It worked for half a second. Then the words spilled free.
“I may not have agreed with this woman strolling into my bar and claiming it as her own, but she’s busting her ass, has been since she arrived. She is unfailingly polite to everyone. I’m not declaring her as my woman but letting it be known that I will not put up with that type of behavior toward her. Being a fucking racist pig does nothing but bring down the area. Emmie went to him first, asking him to be part of what she needed to do to get the masonry work done. He refused. Had I been with her when he said whatever, he said to her, trust me this is a conversation we’d be having with some bars between us because I would have fucked him up. And without a shred of remorse.”
They were on the street but he didn’t give a fuck who could hear him. Finn meant everything he said.
“And what happens when he goes after those who have agreed to work with her?”
“I warned him about that.” He didn’t flinch from his grandfather’s all to knowing gaze. “I will protect her. As long as she is here.”
“Why?”
Was he serious? “Besides the fact it is the right thing to do? Keep people safe from the idiots of the world? Protect the weaker ones, defend those who cannot defend themselves. The same reasons I served in the Army? Because what this woman has done takes more balls to do than anything most people I’ve met have ever done in their life. She left the place she had called home for her entire life, flew across the ocean with nothing more than three bags, to look at something she’d inherited from a father she lost years ago. She moved here, determined to at least give this a shot, a chance, no matter that she is the only one in the village who looks like her. No matter that some have been less than polite to her. That some of the patrons of the pub have said they will not be back because she is the owner. She’s still carried on with more class and elegance than all of them combined. She refuses to give up. She studies, learns, asks questions and tries to do it all.”
“Finn—”
“No. You asked. Listen. I am the one who has worked beside her day in and day out. She’s up early and to bed late. She still makes sure I get a paycheck, which I didn’t do for myself when I was running this in a shitty fashion. The Emerald Myst isn’t the only pub around but we are holding our own. The numbers are coming up, even though she has been spending to fix it up. The roof is almost completely fixed. I’m able to get back into construction and can pretty much do that during the day until the pub opens. She deserves respect.”
“And you aim to be the one to make sure she gets it.”
“Damn straight.” Holding the old man’s gaze. “Would you have be any other way?”
“Fuck no. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing. That way when your Ma yells I can tell her that I talked to you about this already.”
“I thought you liked her.”
His grandfather smiled. “I love the lass. And I would have kicked his ass too, had I known what he had said to her. I can’t believe she didn’t say anything to you about it.”
“She’s a bit stubborn.”
“Noticed that have you?” McSweeny shot him a pointed look. “She’s a good match for you. And there’s a Blarney Stone you should go visit if you think anyone, myself included, is going to believe you didn’t just claim that woman as your own.”
Something else he wasn’t going to deal with right now. His grandfather’s look was to smug and he walked off only to grind his jaw when the old man’s laughter trailed after him.
He had the most irrational urge to lay eyes on his Emmie.
Not going to think about why I’m claiming her as mine.
Chapter 6
“Are you crazy?”
Emmie stared at the man across the bar from her, the invoices and other figures she had been going over forgotten on the scarred top. She loved the bar, it had such personality. While still not much of a drinker, the atmosphere and people were amazing. She was still debating on putting in a new bar top, asking the man who just suggested something freaking insane, to make it for her.
Said man, freaking sexy hot man of her dreams, leaned casually against the counter across from her.
“Nope. This is part of the upkeep and maintenance for the bar.”
She shook her head and picked up the glass of ice water and took a big drink. Wiping the back of her hand over her mouth when she’d finished, she thumped it on the bar top. The top she still thought about him taking her over. On. Sitting her there and pushing between her spread legs while he lowered that chiseled jaw with that scruff to her thighs and…
“Emmie?”
Shit. Had been moaning as that fantasy played out in her mind? She shifted on the stool and lifted her gaze. He watched her but she couldn’t read his expression.
“What?”
“Did you hear anything about what I just said?”
“No. I was imagining,” he lifted one eyebrow even as he darted his sharp gaze between her and the solid wood between them, “I was imagining falling off the roof.”
“Is that so.”
God, even she could taste the disbelief in his statement. Bastard didn’t even bother making it a question, just a dubious statement.
“That’s so,” she remarked with all the primness of a woman who wasn’t sitting there with a fucking slick and needy pussy.
Finn grunted.
Even that was fucking sexy.
“I mean, you even commented on it a few days ago when I was looking up with my eyes closed. If I’m like that down on the ground where it’s safe, what the hell do you think I’m going to be like up there?”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
Problem was, she didn’t want safe with him. She wanted wild and uncontrolled. With him.
She rolled her lower lip in her teeth and mulled it over. When she exhaled sharply and looked back up at him, he had zeroed in on her mouth. Ignoring that for a moment, after her internal happy dance, she drummed her fingers on the table.
“Fine. But if I die, know you’re not safe. I’ll come back and haunt you.”
The corners of his bright blue eyes twinkled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He pushed away from the bar. “I’m getting used to having you around, Emmie. Go change, I’m guessing you don’t want to be climbing up there in a skirt. Although, I wouldn’t object.” He winked.
“I don’t even think you’d notice.” She hopped off the stool, praying she didn’t have a wet spot on the back of her skirt or the seat cushion, and retreated upstairs to change into jeans and a white tank top.
What did one wear roofing? Not a question she had figured she would need to know because her ass preferred to keep her feet on the ground. God didn’t give her wings, so he wanted her grounded. She liked being there herself, if she were to be honest.
After she tied on her shoes, she hurried back down to find Finn facing the kitchen which would be gutted soon. She flexed her hand around a flannel long sleeve shirt that she rapidly tied around her waist. Another subject she had to speak to him about. She didn’t want to close but they had to get that kitchen back to a working place. As nice as her dreams about Finn were, her nightmares about that kitchen were as scary.
“Ready?”
How the fuck did he know she was there? She didn’t walk loud and hadn’t said anything.
“Nope, but I’m guessing that doesn’t matter.”
“Let’s go then.”
His voice was lower and bit gruffer. Unsure what crawled up his craw, she was the one freaking out here, she walked to the door and out into the beautiful Irish day. Tilting her head up, she closed her eyes and just stood there for a moment, embracing the su
n on her face, and the peace being here brought her.
Never thought that this place would feel more like home to me than a city I spent my entire life in.
And she hadn’t. This had been a whim, one she was like going to come see just to be able to say she did, then she was going to point the toes of her shoes right back to Pittsburgh and run home. But Pittsburgh was no longer home.
Hadn’t been since the first night she woke up here, in this place, with leaky roof and crappy kitchen. There was a mist that surrounded the pub in the mornings when she woke, it had become a ritual for her to sit outside, embracing the cool bite of the hour, until it slowly rolled back leaving nothing but the start of a beautiful day.
Even the rain couldn’t dampen her rising emotions to this place. All the varying shades of green made it all worthwhile.
“Were you hoping I would carry you up to the roof, Emmie?”
There it was. That low sexy rasp that conjured up fantasies she couldn’t ever have come true.
“I was hoping you would let me stay on the ground.”
His chuckle reverberated through her. Finn moved up behind her and braced his hands on her hips. Briefly. Completely non-sexual in nature but to her mind, it was how he would grab her before taking her from behind.
“Not a chance. Come on, up you go. You first.”
She looked over to the stainless steel ladder that mocked her. Even with the distance she was from it. She needed to postpone this. It was probably trying to kill her, waiting until she was halfway there, then it would snap shut and send her to her death.
“Is this where you pat my ass and say ‘get in the game’ and hope I don’t fuck up?”
He bent close, his lips grazing her ear, warm breath fanning along her hypersensitive skin. “Trust me, Emmie. My hand lands on your ass, the word fuck will be a good one to remember, and pats more like spanking. But no game.”
She shuddered. “All talk.” Emmie strode off, determined not to lean back into him and ask him to make good on that promise. He could smack her ass all he wanted so long as he filled her full of that large cock, she knew he had.
For all her false bravado she made it halfway up before her nerves caught up to her and she gripped the rails until her knuckles bled white. I can’t do this.