by Kim Amos
Audrey marveled at his expertise, at his clean look, at his authority in this place. This morning, she’d spotted him through the conference room windows leading a meeting, and she even heard one person call him “sir.”
It was certainly a far cry from the man she once knew. Five years ago, Kieran’s dark red hair had been shaggy, curling just below his ears—not at all like the trim cut that framed his head now. His jeans had been clean but the cuffs were frayed, and his jaw had been shadowed with stubble. He’d still had his broad shoulders and big chest, but he’d been thinner somehow, leaner and harder.
Audrey had watched him walk into the dance tent at the Asparagus Festival, her eyes never leaving his form. The music had retreated to the edges of her hearing, drowned out by a wave of quiet, as if the world had slowed, pausing momentarily while she took him in. The whirling figures on the dance floor spun into distant blurs, and the lights receded. Before spotting him, she’d been standing to the side, stiff and awkward, wishing she could just go home already, but forcing herself to stay since she wanted to enjoy the festival, whether or not she had a date.
Kieran had turned to her then, maybe feeling the intensity of her gaze or just sensing that she was staring, unabashedly, and came directly toward her. His wide mouth stretched into a slow smile. The angular lines of his face were partially shadowed in the dim light, giving him an air of mystery. She marveled at his perfect lips, and the small cleft on his chin where she suddenly wanted to place her finger, just see how the tiny dent felt.
“Porta-Potties at this festival probably smell worse than most, don’t you think?” he’d asked. “All that asparagus pee?”
Later, she’d recall how odd it was that his first comment to her was about urine, and how improbably funny she’d found it. A bubble of laughter sounded from her throat.
“I suppose it’s better that the pee smells like asparagus, versus the other way around,” Audrey had replied. “Otherwise we’d never eat it.”
It was Kieran’s turn to laugh then. She’d watched, fascinated, as he threw his head back, flashing bright white teeth. She felt her pulse quicken, felt the presence of the sky above and the hardness of the earth below and believed, in that moment, she was exactly where she needed to be.
Kieran glanced at the asparagus beer she was holding. “I imagine that must be like drinking boozy V8, what with all the vegetables. But the way you’re sucking it down, maybe there’s a chance I’m wrong.”
“Very wrong,” Audrey said, lifting the nearly empty glass. Asparagus beer was her favorite, which was a tough break since she could only get it for a few weeks each year. “You should try one—the beer tent is just next door.”
Together, they’d walked to the beer tent, where Kieran bought two fresh pints, and they drank them under the stars. And when he loved it—when his light green eyes brightened even more—Audrey thought she felt the whole world tilt slightly, realigning itself just for her.
Just for them.
“What’s your name?” she asked as they finished their beers and headed back into the dance tent.
“Kieran Callaghan, of the Callaghans of Cashel, descended from the Irish king of Munster.”
“How very noble.”
“And you?”
“Audrey Tanner,” she’d replied. “Of the…Minnesota Tanners.”
He held out a hand. “May I have this dance, Audrey Tanner?”
She stared at his outstretched fingers, at the lean, calloused shape of them and hesitated for only the briefest of seconds. She hardly knew this man. This was unwise. He could be dangerous.
Nevertheless, she’d reached for him. The moment their fingers connected, lightning struck her spine. She wondered if she’d be able to remain upright, the electric surge of it all was so much, but then his arms were around her, holding her tight, and she found she’d been made strong, not weak. It turned out she could dance for hours and hours and hours.
“Miss?”
Audrey started. She blinked to awareness, realizing there was a woman staring at her.
“Yes, I’m so sorry. How can I help you?” Audrey attempted a smile at the short woman in front of her with paper-white skin.
“None of the sales staff here seems to want to wait on me,” the woman said, frowning with pale lips that nearly matched her pallor. In contrast to all this was the crop of dark chestnut hair that jutted from her head at an impossibly stylish angle.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Audrey said. “Let me get—”
“No,” the woman said, cutting her off. “Can I just talk to you?”
Audrey collected herself. “Yes. Of course.”
“The thing is,” the woman said, “I don’t think anyone here wants to help me. I’ve been standing over there by that Softail Slim”—she jerked her small head at a stout, flat gray bike—“and I think people assume I’m like you.”
“Like me?” Audrey asked, wondering if the woman meant broke.
“A model. I think they think I’m here to look pretty. And even if I couldn’t afford a bike, which I can, the gear in here sucks. It’s a joke.”
Audrey’s eyes flicked over to the women’s section, taking in the tiny rack of baby T-shirts, bikinis, thong underwear, and a bustier just like the one she was wearing. It was a fraction of the total retail space. In contrast, there was a whole section with boots, leather jackets, chaps, and hats for men.
“I guess I could wear a leather jacket cut for a small dude,” the woman said, her pale cheeks pinking with irritation, “but the thing is, they make bike gear for women now. Lots of it. So why don’t you carry any of it? And why am I standing around not being waited on? It’s like this place is straight out of Mad Men or something. The only woman who works here is a model, and I half expect the boss to ask me for coffee.”
“Well, I’m just here temporarily,” Audrey said. “I was a gym tea—”
“Nobody’s judging,” the woman interrupted. “We all have to do what we have to do. But this place? You guys are missing the mark. Big time.”
And before Audrey could stop her, the woman turned and left. Audrey followed after her in spiky heels, but couldn’t even get close. The dealership doors swooshed shut before Audrey could even ask the woman her name.
“Shit,” she muttered. She teetered into a nearby corner, feeling terrible. But as she watched from the shadows, she realized the woman was right. Men were talking to men. Women were on the periphery, picking at fingernails, looking around, seemingly lost. Good heavens, how many of them were potential customers? And they were being ignored!
The shining chrome of the machines was a blinding reminder of the fact that she didn’t ride, but maybe if she could, she’d be more help to the woman who’d just come in. And all the other women like her. She gritted her teeth, not wanting to let herself remember how exhilarating it felt on the back of a bike with the scenery whipping past, the sky wide overhead, and how, with Kieran, she thought she was always riding toward something.
“Is there a problem here?”
Audrey turned to find Kieran in the small space with her, hands on his hips, staring.
“Did you offend that customer?” he asked before she could say anything. “She walked out of here looking angry after talking to you. What happened?”
There were lines of tension around Kieran’s mouth she couldn’t remember seeing yesterday. Dark circles ringed his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept much the previous night.
“I was trying to help,” she answered.
He inched closer. Her heart thundered. “Then what happened? Why did she bail?”
“She couldn’t get one of your sales associates to talk to her.” It came out more testily than she wanted. Kieran’s nearness unnerved her.
“What did you do about it?”
Audrey bristled. “As the advancement director, I’d think you’d be in more of a position to help than someone in chaps and a leather corset.”
Kieran folded his muscled arms. “All right,” he said
after a long moment. “Tell me specifically what occurred so I can address it.”
Audrey blinked in surprise at Kieran’s tone. He’d switched into professional mode. He was being a manager. And not a terrible one.
“I couldn’t catch up to the customer to stop her,” Audrey said. “But the problem’s bigger than that. She was pointing out how all the gear in the store is the kind of thing I have on. And I can hardly get so I can sit on one of these things, much less drive one. She was frustrated by our approach to women, and I don’t blame her.”
Kieran studied Audrey then, a look that pierced her with its thoughtfulness. “Fair enough. I’ll talk to my sales managers. Maybe they need to be reminded that women are our clientele, too.”
Kieran had turned, ready to leave, when Audrey grabbed his hand. The graze of fingers was electric enough to send a jolt through her. “But maybe the situation’s bigger than that?”
Kieran raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
Audrey pulled her fingers away from his, surprised at how reluctantly they moved. “What if it’s not only about the sales guys? I mean, maybe you need to rethink what kind of stock you’re putting out for sale. Retrain some people. Do some surveys and find out what women want. Make the solution more…comprehensive.”
Like teaching me how to ride, she thought but didn’t say.
“And you’d know because ex–gym teachers have so much experience with this kind of thing?”
He may have meant it as a joke, but the dig stung. Before Audrey could fire off a reply, an administrative partner with a long, blonde ponytail hustled up to where they were standing. “The contracts for your two o’clock conference call came in, Mr. Callaghan. Do you want them now?”
Kieran glanced at the pile of papers in her hand. “Thanks, Dawn, but I’ll get them in a few minutes. Just put them on my desk, if you will.”
Dawn nodded and trotted away. Audrey watched her go, unable to shake how successful Mr. Callaghan was now, how he exuded a kind of leadership and authority that were only glimmers when they’d met. A small, brittle part of her wanted Kieran’s life to have fallen apart when he rolled away from White Pine five years ago. How had it happened that his life hadn’t shattered but rather blossomed?
“I’m sorry. Did you have anything to add about our disappearing customer?” Kieran asked, checking his watch.
A shard of old hurt sliced at something deep inside. “Funny, how all of a sudden people leaving bothers you,” she said.
She couldn’t tell if he’d paled slightly. Part of her didn’t care.
He leaned into her, so close that his breath was on her skin. The small whispers of air felt like gale-force winds, threatening to knock her to her knees.
“Careful,” he said in a low voice. “This is a business, and I’m your employer. I’m not interested in rehashing the past.”
They were unbearably close. “And what makes you think I am? The day you rolled out of my life was the day everything got a hundred percent better.” It was a lie—and a terrible one at that—but she didn’t retract it.
She expected him to fire back at her, but instead he smiled, ever so slightly, as if he knew she was bluffing. The movement, tiny as it was, undid her. The muscles in her body were set to unravel, leaving her in a slack heap on the gleaming white floor. Her very center quaked, reminding her what an incredible physical specimen Kieran was. How every contour of his body had seemed downright sculpted when they’d been in bed together.
She found her hunger for him building, even as they stood there. But she forced herself to be still, to keep her breathing even and controlled. She wasn’t about to lose herself a second time to him.
She summoned all her strength and pulled away, putting cold air between them. “Your female customers deserve better than what you’re giving them. I’d say that’s probably true for all the females in your life, but I’m trying to focus on things that aren’t a lost cause.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. His green eyes pierced hers. “If you don’t like the way I run things, by all means, there’s the door. It’s your choice.”
She actually laughed at that. She supposed there was always a choice; it just didn’t feel that way. He hadn’t given her any options when he’d left before, and now that he was back, her only options felt like either this job or food stamps.
She flicked her head toward the rack of women’s gear. “For the record, your choices are terrible.”
Kieran pulled on the cuffs of his smart wool jacket. “I’ll let you know when I need your opinion. In the meantime, this is the last time you mention anything related to our past here. Understood?”
He didn’t even wait for her to answer. He simply turned on his polished heel and left.
Audrey stood there trembling in his absence. Her heart—sinking and pounding at the same time—didn’t make the past seem like it was safely tucked away whatsoever.
* * *
Kieran splashed cold water on his face in the dealership’s white-bricked bathroom and tried to get hold of himself. Above, the hum of fluorescent lights matched the vibration of his nerves after the close encounter with Audrey in the showroom.
Fighting Saints of New Orleans, the woman was infuriating. Standing in the showroom with her brown eyes flashing and her chest heaving, she had talked to him like no other employee did—ever.
She had also made some of the most intelligent, insightful points he’d heard any of his staff make. Her ideas about expanding the female demographic were so smart he’d fired off the insult about her being an ex–gym teacher just to put her in her place.
It made him the worst kind of jerk. He groaned, wishing instead he’d complimented her on her insight. On her strategy. On all the brightness and cleverness she’d always shown—ever since they’d met.
Instead of cowing her, he should have just done what he wanted, which was to pull her to him and kiss her until the past was so far behind them that all they had was the pleasure of the present.
He hadn’t, of course. Because Audrey didn’t want him.
He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror—hard jaw, even harder eyes—and told himself he deserved it. He’d left like a coward five years ago, and insulted her five minutes ago. She had every right to be angry and to want nothing to do with him.
His leaving had been the best thing that had ever happened to her—she’d said it herself.
He leaned against the porcelain sink and fought the shame bubbling up from deep within. People around here called him “sir” and they saved the seat at the head of the conference room table for him, but Audrey was a reminder of who he really was—someone who’d barely clawed his way out of hard times.
He tried to picture the diploma on his office wall, the glowing reviews he’d received from his own managers in the past, and the ever-growing numbers on the calendar marking his time in recovery.
But all he could see was the dark shame that followed him around like a cloud. His face was shadowed enough to remind him of his childhood days when he and his older brother, Auggie, used to go hungry, bones jutting at all angles. There were grim weeks when his dad would lurch away, leaving only his mom to try to scrape together enough for all of them. She’d pull Auggie and Kieran close and kiss the tops of their heads, whispering her wish to be able to fill them up with love, because then they’d never be without. She’d sew, clean, or do anything she could for money or food, all of them waiting for their dad to come stumbling back, hopefully with a pocketful of winnings but, if not, he’d eventually go back to delivering furniture with his cousin’s company.
Kieran closed his eyes, tired of his reflection. Auggie had pulled out of the tailspin of their childhood early on, first by joining the navy, then by going immediately into the police academy. Today, he was an officer in the Boston Police Department. Kieran grimaced, knowing his own transformation had taken much longer, and it had come at a terrible price. It had involved not only losing his mom, but carrying a secret he cou
ld never tell Audrey, which meant he could never be honest with her.
And if his addiction meetings had taught him anything, it was that honesty was a pillar of any strong relationship. As much as his fingers yearned to touch her cheek, as much as he longed to pull her close to his chest and feel her warmth against him, and as much as he wished he could atone for the past, it could never be.
He sighed, wishing Audrey could just evaporate, like mist when the sun warms the air. It seemed unfair that his heart could swell so much in her presence. It was a wonder that it didn’t come exploding out of his chest.
He turned off the tap, listening to the water drip, trying to focus on the sound.
The longer he was around Audrey, the more he wanted to atone for his actions. But coming clean with her would mean she’d find out that he was once an addict who, five years ago, had accepted a terrible deal at a desperate crossroads. It would also ruin her closest relationship—and he wasn’t about to go causing any more damage to Audrey than he already had.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror—all angles and edges. Not soft with emotion. Not soft with anything.
There had once been a day when he’d been good at bluffing. Good at pretending.
His gambling days were behind him—he’d made damn sure of that—but he needed one more lie. He told himself he didn’t care for Audrey Tanner one whit.
And as he stared at his shadowed face in the bathroom mirror, he almost believed it.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, streetlight reflections glimmered on the wet blacktop as Audrey jogged through her neighborhood. The rain shower from the night before had cleared the early May air, leaving the smell of fresh dirt and pine and grass on the wind. Audrey inhaled deeply as she wove her way through streets lined with still-sleeping households. In the east, the sky was transitioning from black to a dim rose, and stars were fading above.