Something to Prove

by Shannyn Schroeder

  With that settled, she rose and took a shower. Her brain was fuzzy, but she intended to use the extra time wisely. She needed to make improvements quickly.

  Colin strode through the back door of O’Leary’s to grab a cup of coffee before heading up to shower. He was getting a little old for this.

  Mary sat at the bar drinking coffee and reading the Sunday Tribune . She looked over her shoulder as he got closer. “The walk of shame again, Colin?”

  He shrugged and smiled. She didn’t need to know that it was a poker game with the guys and not a woman that had kept him out all night. He enjoyed his reputation as a ladies’ man. If he got half the action everyone thought he did, he’d be a very happy man. “What are you doing here so early?”

  “I like the quiet here on a Sunday morning. Don’t you have family dinner today?”

  He nodded and poured a cup of coffee. O’Leary family Sunday dinner was early afternoon to accommodate the bar schedules. He checked his watch. “I have time for a nap before I go. You need anything down here before you open?”

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  And she was. Ryan had totally lucked out in hiring Mary. She ran the place in Ryan’s stead, a job Colin should’ve had years ago. He took his mug with him up to his apartment. This, too, used to be his brother’s. When Ryan moved into his house with Quinn, Colin decided he’d rather live above the bar than with their mother.

  He set his cup on the counter and lay across the couch his brother had left for him.

  Hours later, Colin sat on the couch in his childhood home and felt the cushions sink and curve around his body. The nap hadn’t done him any good. He needed a good night’s sleep. Liam sat and handed him a beer.

  “Mom know you grabbed these?”

  “Hell, no. She’s in the kitchen talking babies with the girls.”

  That had such a strange ring to it, but it fit. The girls Liam referred to weren’t their sisters, but were family just the same. Ryan’s wife, Quinn, waddled into the dining room carrying the basket of silverware. He jumped up to help.

  “Go sit down,” he suggested.

  “If one more person tells me to take it easy, I’m going to hurt him. I’m fine. I want to move. I want this baby out of me.”

  Colin took a step back. The woman was downright scary. This hormonal version was worse than anything he’d experienced with his two younger sisters growing up. He didn’t have a response. “I’ll get the plates.”

  “Thank you.”

  In the kitchen, Quinn’s sister, Indy, stood with a baby cradled in her arms. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Hey, good to see you. Where’s Griff?”

  “He went with Ryan to get dessert. Ryan forgot it was his turn, which pissed off Quinn because she would’ve made something. Bugged me too, because she probably would’ve made chocolate cake.” The baby squirmed.

  He reached out. “Let me have her.”

  Indy’s brow furrowed. “You sure?”

  “I’m the oldest of six. I spent most of my childhood with babies around.” He scooped the tiny girl from her mother’s arms. She weighed nothing, but then again, she was little more than a week old. She had that baby smell no one could resist. While he held Colleen against his chest, he said, “I need the plates for dinner before Quinn gets mad at me.”

  Indy brushed past him. “Don’t mind her. She’s mad at everyone right now. I’ll get the plates.”

  He followed Indy back through the house and took Colleen into the living room with him. Holding her like a football, he returned to his spot next to Liam and drank from his beer.

  Liam slapped Colin’s free arm. “You look kind of natural holding a baby.”

  “Shut up.” He took a drink from the bottle again. The truth was that he had been thinking about marriage and babies a lot lately. How could he not? Ryan had gotten married, then Michael. Griffin and Indy were engaged. He was surrounded by marriage and babies.

  Colleen squirmed again, so Colin set his beer on the table and shifted her onto his shoulder. It did feel natural.

  Some old cowboy movie played on TV in front of them. “What’s going on at work?” he asked Liam.

  “Nothing. I guess I don’t have to ask how the bar is going. Ryan would’ve told us if there was a problem.”

  “Let me ask you something.”

  Liam shifted to face him. Of all of his brothers, Liam was by far the most serious and level-headed.

  “Do you regret not getting involved in the bar?”

  “What do you mean? We all grew up in that place. We all work St. Patty’s Day. I’m involved.”

  “Not in the daily stuff, though. You never wanted to run it?” He smoothed a hand over Colleen’s back.

  “No. It always belonged to you and Ryan. It was your place with Dad. We all kind of knew it.”

  Liam said it with no animosity, but Colin wanted to know. “Did we push you out? Make you feel like you couldn’t be there?”

  “No. We all found our own things. You and Ryan, though, O’Leary’s has always been yours.” He finished his beer and stood.

  Liam’s assessment didn’t fit. Eight years ago, sure. O’Leary’s was his until he fucked it up. Now, he felt like a foreigner. Maybe not that bad, but he didn’t fit. For a year now, he was pushing to find that fit, to make it feel like home, and it wasn’t happening.

  Of course, it didn’t help that Ryan kept him at a distance either. He didn’t know how many other ways to apologize. Maybe it was time to move on again.

  Colleen fell asleep in his arms, and he laid her in the cradle his mother had bought for the grandbabies. She’d turned his old bedroom into a nursery. He watched the baby sleep and knew he wanted more than what he had.

  Ryan and Griffin came into the living room holding a grocery-store coffee cake. “Before anyone bitches, Blackstone’s was already closed. I did what I could.”

  Quinn’s golden-brown eyes shot daggers at her husband, and Colin derived no small amount of pleasure from witnessing it. He moved to the table and took the seat that had always been his father’s. When he came back to town last year, Colin had started sitting in the spot just to irritate Ryan. He’d succeeded, but he never felt right in the chair.

  He was no more head of the family now than he could’ve been when his father died. Those were shoes he didn’t know how to fill.

  Mom and Moira carried the last of the plates of food to the table. Colin was struck by how much Moira looked like their mother. Red hair and pale blue eyes. His sister had become a woman when he wasn’t looking. He was suddenly grateful Maggie wasn’t there to make him feel even older. Ryan said grace. Colin looked around the house and saw subtle differences. The pictures on the wall had been updated with wedding photos of Ryan and Quinn and a family portrait with everyone but him.

  One photo of him remained on the wall: His father stood with Ryan and Colin at his side in front of the bar at O’Leary’s. One more piece of evidence that his life hadn’t moved on but everyone else’s had.

  Moira nudged him with a bowl of potatoes. “Something wrong?”

  He slid his easy smile into place to be the man everyone expected. “Nope.”

  Elizabeth’s first day with the new managers went well. They agreed that the place needed to be cleaned up and that there was no excuse for the condition it was in. They both offered suggestions, and they talked about drink prices and schedules. When she left at six in the evening, she wanted to believe they had a handle on it. Gary was going to close tonight and Mike would open tomorrow afternoon.

  She planned on getting some rest and then returning to watch Gary work. She was no fool. Leaving a new employee unsupervised on the first day could easily spell disaster. Back in her hotel room, sleep claimed her before she even thought about the list of things still hanging on her to-do list.

  Elizabeth startled awake with the ringing phone. She shot into the air, while clearing her throat. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Elizabeth. It’s Gary. You’d better get back here. There
was a fight. I had to call the cops and it’s a mess.”

  “I’m on my way.” She stood and smoothed a hand down her suit, then stopped. Absolutely no one involved was going to notice a few wrinkles. Of that, she was sure. She couldn’t believe that there were problems already. She sped to the bar, hoping she wouldn’t get pulled over. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of a ticket.

  Outside the bar, the usual row of motorcycles leaned drunkenly against the building. That was the first problem. Red and blue flashing lights filled the street in front of her. Bar fight? It must’ve been an all-out brawl. She parked in front of the bikes and went inside. Two patrolmen were hauling out a man in cuffs and, from the looks of it, he hadn’t been the only one.

  She strode over to where Gary stood behind the bar, talking to a cop. He looked much younger than he had when she’d hired him. His inexperience showed as he shifted under the officer’s questions. When his gaze met hers, he gestured to the cop. “Hi, Elizabeth. Officer, this is the owner, Elizabeth Brannigan.”

  “Ma’am.”

  “What happened?”

  Gary shrugged. “I’m not sure. Two guys started getting loud, and I told them to take it outside. They laughed at me and started swinging on each other. Before I knew it, it was a free-for-all.”

  Elizabeth turned in a slow circle to survey the damage. She counted at least two tables and three chairs as casualties. The look on Gary’s face let her know she was about to lose more than just furniture.

  She tapped the officer on the arm. “This is the first time I’ve been at the bar for any length of time. My father bought it and let it run itself, so I know very little about what has been going on. Do you have any idea how often the police are called to this location?”

  He smiled in a you-poor-thing way. “I don’t have exact numbers, but we usually expect a few calls a month. I have to say, though, that this is the worst I’ve seen in years. Mitch used to keep it pretty quiet. There’s always someone looking for trouble, and he was good at keeping it under control.” He pointed at the damage and the few drunks still sitting around, enjoying the show. “You might want to close up for the night and think about getting a doorman or bouncer.”

  More things she hadn’t thought of. Keith always had staff in place. Bouncers were never even on her radar.

  Gary announced last call and the few men still drinking grumbled, but one look from the cops quelled that.

  “Give us a holler if you need help,” the officer called as he walked out the door.

  Elizabeth leaned against the bar. Inside her head, she screamed, “Help,” but nothing left her lips.

  A few minutes later, Mitch strolled through the door.

  “We’re closed,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yeah, I heard you had some problems. I brought you a gift.” From behind his back he produced a baseball bat.

  Her stomach jumped and her heart beat double time. She took in his disheveled appearance—hair standing on end, stains on the front of his shirt—and he seemed to sway in place.

  Mitch gently swung the bat in his right hand until it landed softly in his left palm. He neared and Gary said, “Do I need to call the cops back?”

  Mitch shook his head. “Not for me. I thought you might want to keep this behind the bar. The crowd is a little rough sometimes.”

  He laid the bat across the bar with a sick little smile. “See ya ’round.”

  Gary sighed. “You know, Elizabeth, I really want this job, but I can’t do this. I’m here all alone, and this could’ve gotten bad.”

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea. Mitch didn’t tell me about problems, but I should’ve guessed, given the clientele.”

  “When you get new customers, give me a call, and I’d be more than happy to work for you. Until then, you’re not paying me enough to risk my life.”

  She nodded. She wasn’t even going to try to convince him. Maybe between herself and Mike, they’d be okay. Mike was a much bigger guy, so maybe he’d be more intimidating than Gary. When the cop mentioned getting a bouncer, she’d immediately thought of Mitch. The cops seemed to think he had some magic with this crowd, and being a bouncer didn’t put him near the register. After his visit, though, her stomach turned again. No, she wouldn’t go back to him. He’d had a decade to prove his worthiness.

  Elizabeth locked the door behind the last customer. It was just after ten o’clock, but it felt like three in the morning. Gary helped her close and clean up the broken furniture. She pulled cash from the register for his one night of work. “If you know anyone who would make a good bouncer, please send them my way.”

  “I will. Thanks for the chance. I hate to leave you like this, but I have a family.”

  “I understand. I’ll figure something out. Thanks.”

  Gary walked out the door, and Elizabeth sat in the silence, too wound up to go back to sleep, too defeated to attempt to tackle the problem at hand. She grabbed her purse and locked the door behind her.

  Not wanting to be alone, she drove to O’Leary’s. She probably wouldn’t find any answers there, but she was sure to see a friendly face.

  Colin poured another beer and checked the time. Still two hours until closing. It had been a quiet evening, which suited him, so he’d sent most of the staff home. He and Jenna could close by themselves. Someone kept playing some sad, sappy music on the jukebox, which didn’t help his mood.

  He wiped down the bar, thinking about his options if he left O’Leary’s. The money he’d socked away wasn’t enough for a business of his own. The few offers he’d made went nowhere. Ryan had made it abundantly clear that he would be no help. Colin would have to figure it out on his own.

  He didn’t get far with his tired brain when a soft scent tickled his nose. He looked over to see Legs. Of course, the woman had yet to introduce herself, but she had a great pair of legs, so in his imaginings of her, he called her Legs.

  Even at midnight, she wore her usual power suit, albeit a little on the wrinkled side. Her dark hair was pinned tightly in place except for a few locks around her face. She sat on a bar stool and waited. Dark smudges marked under her eyes. She looked beat. “Hi there.”

  “Hi.” The smile she offered stayed a little on the stiff side, neither genuine nor friendly.

  “It’s late. Are you still drinking Irish coffee?”

  “Sure, why not. It’s not like I’m going to be getting much sleep tonight.” She shifted and propped her elbows on the bar.

  “You know, when I think about staying up all night, it’s usually because I’m having fun.”

  She shook her head. “No fun here.”

  “That’s too bad. You look like you could use some.” He turned to make her drink.

  She wasn’t the only one. He needed to find a spark, something interesting before this life swallowed him up.

  He’d thought that coming home would fix things, that he’d find what he was looking for. It felt good to be home, around his family, but he still needed more. He just had no idea where to find the more.

  Turning back to give Legs her drink, he thought he might like to have a night of something more with her. He put on his best fuck-me smile and leaned against the bar. “What do you say we get out of here?”

  The drink in her hand bobbled and some whipped cream slipped down the side. Her face, however, showed no sign of nervousness.

  “That’s a tempting offer. More tempting than you can know, but I have too much work to deal with.”

  “What work needs to happen after midnight on a Sunday?”

  “Everything that didn’t happen earlier today and everything that did.” She sighed and drank her coffee, leaving a mustache of cream on her upper lip.

  He hoped to watch her lick the cream off, but she swiped at it with a napkin instead.

  “A couple of hours off could work miracles for both of us.”

  She stared at her cup and he thought he had her.

  “I have proven methods to get rid of that stre
ss you’re carrying.” Her cheeks grew pink, and he wanted to stroke them to see if they were as warm as they looked.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I have too much going on right now.”

  “No one can work twenty-four-seven. A little break, a little relaxation. Could be fun.” He leaned forward and watched her throat work as she gulped her coffee. Then he made a rare suggestion. “I live really close. Like, within minutes.”

  She stirred the quickly melting whipped cream in her cup. “I really shouldn’t. But thanks for the offer.”

  Shouldn’t, not won’t, not can’t. Colin left her with her thoughts as he continued to clean up. She didn’t run after he’d made his proposition, so maybe he had some hope yet.

  CHAPTER 3

  Elizabeth stared into her coffee cup. She’d had so much caffeine, she’d probably be riding high for a week. The sexy bartender had made her a hell of an offer. She hadn’t had sex in a long time. Her job crippled every relationship she’d tried to have. Her life had become a series of short, monogamous flings. Like a sailor with a lover in every port.

  She watched the man clean glasses like he was giving a woman a rubdown. Who knew soapy water could be so sexy? When he came by again, drying his hands on a towel, his brows furrowed.

  “Something wrong with the coffee?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. I just decided that I’ve had a enough caffeine and this wasn’t going to help me relax.”

  He took the cup, dumped the contents into the sink, and returned with a glass of red wine. “Try this.”

  She sipped and the rich flavor rolled across her tongue. Much better than coffee, but far from the expensive bottles her mother had gotten her used to. This was more like fresh-from-college-living-on-a-budget wine.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “It is. Thanks.”

  He walked away again. This time she noticed the way his jeans stretched across his ass. Very good. As if he felt her ogling, he spun around.

  The obnoxious blush that always ruined her ability to hide anything rose again. She cleared her throat. “Where’s the washroom?”