by Maida Malby
Her boyfriend’s disgruntled expression was so adorable, Krista had to tease him. “Good thing you’ve learned a thing or two since then.”
Blake bared his teeth. “Remind me to kick Aidan’s ass when I see him next. It was all his fault.”
Krista laughed out loud. “I’ll hold him down for you.”
Blake started laughing too.
Their joy in each other’s company was like a balm to their tired souls. They’d only been in New York for twelve hours, and yet so much had happened already. The thought of what was still ahead sobered her right away.
Blake sensed her disquiet and ceased laughing as well. “What is it, love? Are you thinking of Uncle Jack again?”
“Yes. I want him to wake up already. I want him to get better.”
“The hospital won’t be able to transfuse him with your blood for many hours yet. Maybe even days.”
They were told the steps that had to be taken: typing, separating, testing for various diseases, and labeling, all before it would reach Jack O’Connor. Dr. Vasquez could only expedite things so much for them. The processes had to be completed in the proper manner.
“I know. I wish there was something we could do while we wait.” Krista heaved a sigh.
“Maybe we can ask Aidan to check Uncle Jack’s service records. Narrow down the dates when he was in Clark.”
“It’ll be great if he can do that. Can he?”
“I’m sure he’ll find a way. If not, we can ask Ronan to investigate. That’s his job, after all.”
Ronan hadn’t given her the death-stare like his mother had, so perhaps Blake was correct in that he might be willing to help.
“Can’t hurt to try.”
Krista laid her head on Blake’s shoulder. Will I know if he is my father when I see him? They called it “lukso ng dugo” in the Philippines. Literally translated to “blood leap,” it described a strange feeling of emotional attachment to someone, especially during the initial encounter. She couldn’t wait to find out.
CHAPTER NINE - Hell’s Kitchen
The interior of the Ryan O’Connor Pub and Restaurant did not look like any Irish pub Krista had ever seen. Not that she had been to many.
She dropped her purse on the bar before removing her coat and hopping onto a barstool. She swiveled around as she took in Blake’s family business.
At two in the afternoon, still a couple of hours until it opened for the day, the pub was empty of customers and employees. From Krista’s perch, she had an unobstructed view of the entire dining area.
The usual Irish symbols—shamrocks, Celtic crosses, Guinness beer, and whiskey—amply represented the business partners Sean and Jack’s shared heritage. So did the green and white Christmas tinsel decorating the bar.
What surprised Krista were the individual touches showcasing the wives’ heritages as well. Giulia’s Italian roots likely influenced the family-style arrangements of the tables and chairs, with real tablecloths and napkins in reds, whites, and greens. Same with the bottles of wine, including the popular Moscato, Chianti, and Prosecco, on a mirrored wall.
Krista’s gaze found the stage with its live band setup: drums, microphone stands, speakers, red and blue banners, and most importantly, a large TV monitor. The pub did karaoke. She instantly felt at home. Filipinos were known all over the world for their singing talent, and the fact that it was acknowledged here endeared her boyfriend’s family to her even more.
She grinned at Blake, who’d been waiting patiently for her verdict. “I love it.” Swinging her gaze to the far wall, she tipped her chin to a framed picture, one of several stunning landscapes of Ireland, Italy, and the Philippines.
“‘Specially that one.” In the photo, a rope hammock hung between coconut trees on a white sandy beach. The blue-green waters of the sea mirrored the aqua of the cloudless sky.
Krista had been on that exact hammock, on that specific beach, nearly two months ago. She knew without stepping closer to it what the caption would read: “Perlas, Boracay Island, Philippines.” Blake’s resort. Where she had fulfilled her Turning-Thirty Vow. Where she had declared “Seize the day” and fell in love.
She sank into Blake’s embrace and tilted her head when he nuzzled her neck. “Do you miss it? We’ll go back in March, during Holy Week,” he said as he brushed his mouth against her ear. His warm breath stirred the fine hair around it, making her tremble.
“I’d like that.” Krista’s voice was barely a whisper. As always, Blake’s mouth wreaked havoc on her senses; she didn’t know what she’d just promised. She wanted his lips on hers, not on her neck, or her collar, or her chin. Impatient, she tugged at his hair to still his movement and pressed her lips to his.
It started sweet, a mere touch of soft flesh. Then Krista parted her lips at the same time his tongue sought entry. Any lingering coldness she felt melted as they sipped at each other. While snow chilled the streets of Midtown Manhattan, fire burned inside the multinational pub of Ryan O’Connor.
“My eyes! My virgin eyes. Get a room, yo.”
The teasing voice broke through their sensual haze. Krista unwrapped her legs from Blake’s hips. He stiffened but didn’t let her go; he just lifted his lips away and muttered under his breath, “At this rate, I’m not going to have any brothers left. I’mma kill this one, too.”
Krista giggled and buried her burning face against his chest. Beneath her cheeks she felt the double-time beat of his heart. She looked down at his front. Sure enough, the bulge of his erection strained the zipper covering it.
Poor guy. He wouldn’t get relief anytime soon. After their return to the hotel from the hospital, they’d dived into bed and slept the rest of the morning. Five hours’ sleep wasn’t enough, but it was more than they’d had the night before.
Krista patted Blake’s chest then leaned to her right to view the man who had interrupted their impromptu make-out session.
The speaker looked so much like his father, there could be no mistaking his identity: Craig, the youngest Ryan brother. At six feet four inches, he was tall and wide. His body blocked the pub table behind him. Though a smile played about his lips, it didn’t reach his denim-blue eyes. This wasn’t the same man Krista had seen in Blake’s family portrait, taken the year before.
Craig caught her staring and wiggled his fingers at her, making her blush again. Sad eyes, maybe, but virgin eyes, hardly. Her boyfriend’s younger brother was too flirty for that to still be true at age thirty-two.
Blake stepped back, finally, and turned to greet his brother. The men exchanged bear hugs, Blake giving as good as he got from Craig, despite standing a couple of inches shorter and weighing several pounds less. Krista flinched at the sound of flesh getting slapped. Though it snowed outside, both brothers wore thin shirts. Blake, in his blue Henley long-sleeved shirt over black jeans, had taken off his jacket the moment they entered the pub.
Craig was even more casually dressed. His white muscle shirt showed off impressive pecs and abs; his jeans encased thighs the size of tree trunks. The man was built; pure muscle, no fat. With his long black hair tied back at his nape in a queue—thankfully not a manbun—beard, and deeply tanned skin, he could play a warrior on TV.
“Sweetheart, this puny creature is Craig. Little brother,” they both grinned at the falsity of the claim, “my girlfriend, Krista. Mine. Stop ogling.”
“Hello, Krista.” Craig held out a scarred hand, but before Krista could shake it, he bent down and enveloped her in a hug.
“Hey, handshake only. Keep your paws to yourself.” Her boyfriend pulled at his brother’s arms to take them off her. They pretended to scuffle, throwing air punches that never connected, laughing their heads off the entire time.
Krista couldn’t help but smile at their antics. She hadn’t seen this side of Blake before. He kept a distance from their colleagues at the office. He played basketball and joked with them, but there was always the disparity of their positions between them.
She was also happy that t
he sadness that had clung to the youngest Ryan son when he first came in had gone.
“B!” A tiny ball of energy burst through the door and launched herself at Blake.
“D!” Her boyfriend caught the young woman mid-air and swung her about the room as if she was but a pillow. Brother and sister laughed in delight, their pleasure in each other’s company punctuated by the tight embrace they shared.
Krista’s heart swelled. Images of Blake playing with their daughter in exactly the same way filled her mind’s eye.
She’d never had this. Her adoptive father, though he loved her, was not a playful man. They’d read books together, which had been fun in its own way. But it wasn’t as exuberantly joyful as the Ryans’ reunion.
“He’ll be a wonderful father,” Giulia remarked beside her.
Krista hopped down from the stool to greet the Ryan matriarch. Her cheeks red from the older woman’s remark, she stammered, “Uh, we’re not ... I’m not ... I’m on the pill.”
Giulia’s laughter shook her whole frame.
Krista buried her face in her palms, groaning in embarrassment.
Blake’s mother patted her arm. “I’m glad you’re being responsible. I’d love to have grandchildren, but not until you’re both ready. Come, I’ll introduce you to our youngest.”
***
Blake watched as Krista bonded with his sister, their dark heads close together as they whispered and giggled.
“They’re not talking about you, vain man. Move. The food will get cold.” With a platter in each hand, Craig nudged Blake forward with his foot.
Blake set the food in the middle of the table, lifted Darcy out of the chair beside Krista, and deposited her on another.
“Hey!” His sister slapped his arm. “We were talking.”
“Now you’re not.” He dropped a kiss on Krista’s head before sitting on the chair his sister had involuntarily vacated.
“You’re a bully, B.” Darcy stuck out her tongue at him. She looked all of twelve when she did that. No one who saw her now would think she was a bona fide genius. Blake wasn’t the only one who reverted to childhood when home in New York. His siblings did, too.
“Zip it, brat. Da is about to say grace.” He crossed himself, then held hands with Darcy and Krista. Everyone did the same.
At the head of the table, Sean intoned, “Heavenly Father, we praise and thank you for the many blessings you have given us today. We are grateful for the gathering of our family, this circle of love and strength. We ask you to bless us and our food, and to bless those we love who are not with us today. We offer special prayers of healing for our brother, Jack. We ask these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
A chorus of amen filled the room.
“Bímis ag ithe. Let’s eat.”
“Not so fast,” said Ma, and everyone groaned. “Craig, explain to Krista what you’ve prepared.”
“Make it quick. I’m hungry,” Aidan grumbled.
“Hangry more like,” Blake whispered to Krista, who pinched his side to shush him. Her lips curved. He knew she remembered her excuse for her rudeness to him, the first day in Boracay.
“Since I’m taking over the kitchen for Tita Belen while they’re at the hospital, I’ve cooked for you some of the restaurant’s menu items so I can re-familiarize myself with them.”
Craig’s words reminded Blake that his brother had lived everywhere but New York for the past ten years. He resided in LA before he moved to Thailand. Before then, he’d been working for master chefs all over the world, from France to Italy to DC, never staying in one place for longer than a year.
“In front of you, Krista, is Guinness caldereta, our version of beef stew. There’s steamed rice, of course. Or brown soda bread, if that’s what you prefer. Next to that is longganisa coddle. Instead of regular bangers, we use the sweeter Filipino pork sausage. Lastly, we have chicken lechon with mushrooms and whiskey-cream sauce. Enjoy.”
“Now, let’s eat.” Aidan was already reaching for the roasted chicken.
Nobody spoke for a while; only the sound of cutlery and requests to pass dishes could be heard, along with moans of satisfaction as the flavors exploded in their mouths. Blake glanced at Craig, amazed once again by his brother’s talent.
“These are all delicious, Craig. Thank you for cooking all of these for us. Salamat.” Ever so gracious, Krista thanked his brother in Filipino.
“Walang anuman, Krista. It was my pleasure.” Craig threw Blake a sly grin before saying, “Let me know if you want me to cook for your wedding, and I’ll make sure to clear my calendar.”
Blake didn’t know whether he wanted to wring his brother’s neck or thank him. He did want to ask Craig to cater their wedding dinner, whenever that may be. After he proposed to Krista.
“I’m the best man,” Aidan declared. Autocratic jerk didn’t even look up from his plate. Just issued the statement as if it were a done deal.
Krista coughed beside him. She was in the act of drinking water when his fool brothers decided to tag-team him.
“Nobody asked you. Maybe we’ll elope.” Hard fingers from his right caught a fleshy part in his side and twisted. “Aw!”
“Blake Henry Ryan, you will do no such thing,” his mother yelled, getting to her feet to assert her authority. “Aidan Garrett, Craig Edward, stop baiting your brother. They will make plans when they see fit, and neither of you have any say in the matter. Are we clear?”
Ouch. Full names? There could only be one answer. “Yes, Ma,” all three of them chorused. Their mother sat back down, satisfied that she’d laid down the law. Their Da, though he remained quiet, gave them all a warning glance.
Darcy snickered to his left. “Shut it, Darcy Elizabeth.” Blake’s mock scowl only increased her giggles.
“Once you’re all done eating, here are your assignments for the evening: Aidan, bar; Blake, take care of the books; Craig, kitchen; Darcy, cash register; Sean, your cronies will be here wanting an update on Jack—manage them. I’ll be at my usual post, supervising the waitstaff. Are there any questions?” His mother, Generalissimo Ryan herself, at her most commanding.
“Where’s Patrick?” Blake hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Uncle Jack and Tita Belen’s eldest son.
Darcy replied, “He just flew in from Indonesia. Said he’d go straight to the hospital as soon as the plane lands.”
Blake’s eyebrow rose. The response came too quickly. As if his sister was used to accounting for the golfer’s whereabouts. He looked at Aidan across from him, who was also frowning at Darcy.
None of the Ryan boys were close to Patrick. It seemed their only sister was. Blake hoped it was only friendship and nothing more.
“Ronan’s evening shift. He said he’ll pass by before closing.” Completing her report on the O’Connor brothers, Darcy went back to eating.
Blake huffed out a breath. Knowing about his little sister’s friendship with Ronan relieved him. He could get behind that relationship. The other, not so much.
“May I have an assignment too?” Krista piped up.
“Of course, sweetie. What would you like to do?”
“After having tasted all this,” she stretched a hand to indicate the nearly-empty dishes, “I want to help in the kitchen. I’ve cooked the Filipino version of some of these dishes at my parents’ café before. I can help with the prep, if the chefs won’t mind.” She addressed the last to Craig, who nodded his agreement.
“You truly are a gem. My son is a lucky man.” Giulia beamed at her.
Blake draped his arm over Krista’s shoulder. “That, I am.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. For her ears only, he said, “I am, indeed, a lucky man. Thank you, love. I’m sorry we have to cancel Hamilton tonight.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine. I’d rather stay and help. I hope you received a refund.”
“I don’t care about that. I care more about you not having any fun in New York.”
“We’re only on our second day of our two-week vacation. I’m sure we’ll
have opportunities to go out later, when things are better with your Uncle Jack.”
“I’ll make sure we go out tomorrow. I promise.”
“Okay. Let’s play it by ear. I don’t want to go far.” She stood and started to gather the dirty dishes together, but he stopped her.
“No heavy lifting for twenty-four hours.” Blake reminded her of the nurse’s orders after her blood draw.
“I know, and I won’t. I’m sure a couple of plates are not too heavy. I can manage those.”
“All right, I’ll be in the office if you need me. Don’t let Craig work you too hard.” He strode to the closed door to the left of the bar, on the opposite side to the kitchen.
CHAPTER TEN - Eighth Avenue
“Great job, Krista.” Crouching before her, Craig held his hand, palm out, for a low-five. Behind him, the staff went about putting the kitchen to rights. The banging of pots and pans was interspersed with laughter and teasing from the close-knit crew as they celebrated the end of a working day that saw no major mishaps. “If you ever want to leave the exciting world of finance and try cooking for a living, let me know. I’ve enjoyed working with you.”
Krista gave the broad hand a limp tap. She leaned back on the chair she’d collapsed onto the moment Craig announced the completion of the final service—seven and a half hours after they’d opened—and shut her eyes.
“Thanks, but I don’t think so. I have so much respect for you, my mom, and Mrs. O’Connor for doing this day in and day out. But this is a one-off thing. Tomorrow I’ll help Blake with the books.”
“What you see in that boring guy, I’ll never know.”
Krista opened her eyes to see Craig’s teasing smile. “We like being boring together.”
He took her hand again—the one with several band-aids covering nicks and cuts—and kissed the injured fingers. “You’re pretty special. I’m glad I’m going to have you for a sister.”