Bet Me to Stay

by Candace Havens

  It’s about to get hot in here…

  After a bet with his brother, Liam O’Connor has to date the next woman who walks into the pub. And he’s all in, because his pub is on the line. What he didn’t expect was Casey Meadows, who at first glance with her big glasses and bulky sweater looks like a woman who has many, many cats—but her wit and smile make him wonder what’s underneath her bulky armor.

  Casey Meadows aka sweet romance author Cassie O’Brien is about to lose everything. As in, her writing career is going down the drain because she can’t write the sexy stuff that’s selling these days. She needs inspiration in the worst way. That’s when she walks into the wrong pub at the right time. Sexy owner Liam is just what the writing doctor ordered. Her whole body is feeling inspired—and when he makes a proposal she can’t refuse—she’s all in. Oh, hell yes. Best. Sex. Of. Her. Life. Thanks to Liam, she’s about to write a best-seller.

  But having an erotic romance alter ego is nothing compared to the real secret Cassie is hiding—and that one could destroy everything.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Don’t miss these One Handed Reads!

  Men in Uniform Anthology

  The DILF

  Bought for Love

  This is dedicated to my readers. I love you all.

  Chapter One

  “I have some news for you.” Liam’s younger brother, Finn, rushed in through the back door of the pub, ran up behind the bar, and grabbed an apron. He was a half hour late for his shift, which wasn’t anything new. His brother didn’t care much about time or deadlines, or the fact that someone might have been working since the wee hours of the morning, doing an inventory, while covering the front of the pub as well.

  But Liam wasn’t bitter or anything.

  “You won’t believe it,” Finn said as he picked up a tray of clean glasses and started loading them behind the bar.

  That look on Finn’s face was one he’d seen before. Oh. Hell. Not again. His brother had obviously met the next Mrs. Finn O’Connor. Again. Liam glanced up at the ceiling and prayed for strength.

  He was annoyed as only the older brother of the biggest idiot in the world could be.

  “Oy,” his brother said. “Did you hear what I said?”

  He glanced at Finn and leaned against the back of the bar, crossing his arms and trying to decide if he should smack some sense into him. Liam hesitated, and Finn got called away to serve a blonde a drink. Maybe he should order him a chastity belt. Did they make those for men? Surely someone had to make something like that for asshats who fell in love with every woman they slept with.

  Every. Woman.

  It was beyond infuriating.

  “I heard you. Let me guess. You’re engaged? Again.”

  Finn smiled. “No. Not engaged. But she’s beautiful, and we have the best time together.” His brother shook his head. “Wait. How did you know? I’m thinking about asking her, though. Did I mention she’s lovely?”

  Hitting him wasn’t an option; he was as hardheaded as they came, and Liam would probably break his fingers doing it. Besides, they didn’t allow that sort of behavior in the pub.

  Truth was, he could give two shits how many women Finn married—or almost married—if not for the fact that they each owned 50 percent of this traditional Irish pub, The Boars Head, and the soon-to-be ex-wife would then own a quarter of his family’s legacy.

  Not on my watch.

  Finn didn’t see the risk. He had to stop his brother from making a big mistake and risking everything their family had worked for, that Liam had sacrificed for. The last engagement had lasted right up until three weeks before the wedding. The bride had called it off, thank God.

  But it had been close. That’s when Liam called the lawyer and asked for a prenup that protected the pub.

  I should probably give her a call and see how that’s going. I may need that prenup sooner than I thought.

  And honestly, if Finn had dated his potential brides for more than a month before the engagement, Liam would likely not need to chew antacids like Tic Tacs. Of course a marriage based on thirty days of knowing someone wasn’t going to last. How could his brother not see that?

  Liam glanced around the pub his grandparents had opened in the 1920s in the waterfront district of Boston and was surprised by how busy it was for a Tuesday night. Which was good. Keeping a bar afloat wasn’t easy, especially when one of the most popular pubs in the whole state was right across the street. He hated those lucky bastards running The Rustic Pig. Politicians and celebrities came from around the world to hang with the O’Brians in their fancy digs, while The Boars Head was a more authentic Irish pub experience, with its homemade shepherd’s pie and stew made from his grandmum’s secret recipe.

  His brother slid a full bottle of Jameson across the bar toward him and motioned with his head to refill a customer’s drink. Liam wasn’t usually the front man, preferring to handle the ordering and accounting in the back office.

  In fact, he wouldn’t even be out here in the mix of things if Finn had been on time, and if he hadn’t felt the urge to keep an eye on his brother while their attorneys drew up new contracts so that Finn couldn’t give away part of the pub. If he got married, there had to be a prenup. The lawyers said that was the only way Liam could keep controlling interest.

  Then his brother could marry any bloody person he wanted.

  Though Liam never understood the appeal. Matrimony was most definitely not his thing. Weird, since his parents had the kind of marriage love stories were written about. But Liam had never felt anything like the passion his parents had. Sure, he liked to get laid now and again, but forever was a long time to be with the same person.

  He walked over and poured the caramel-colored whiskey, checking to make sure the gentleman had already offered a credit card for a tab.

  Next to him, Finn leaned both elbows against the bar, bringing his head—and mouth—to the same height as the blonde a few stools down.

  Well, this wasn’t the woman he was marrying. He’d seen that one the night before, so he let out a sigh of relief.

  His brother couldn’t help but flirt, though. It was part of his nature. It’s what made him so good at his job, working the front of the pub like this. People were naturally drawn to him.

  Finn had his signature good-old-Irish-boy smile plastered from ear to ear, his light-green eyes sparkling with humor as he reached up to ask why a beautiful woman was all alone. Liam rolled his eyes, but the blonde was eating it up. The man was a natural.

  Finn said something else Liam couldn’t catch, but clearly it had the desired effect. The woman giggled and pushed her napkin toward Finn, her number clearly scrawled in blue against the crisp white paper. Liam leaned over and scooped it up.

  “Sorry, lass, but this one’s got a terrible case of—well, we don’t like to talk about it.” He glanced over at his brother, who was giving him the finger.

  Finn’s eyebrows sunk at the low blow, and then a smile Liam knew all too well spread across his brother’s face. Sure enough, Finn lunged forward. There wasn’t much an O’Connor loved more than a good family brawl, but Liam was about six inches taller and a good twenty pounds heavier. He had him in an arm lock in one swift move. Finn struggled
for a second, but Liam tightened his hold and warned, low, “I wouldn’t tonight, bro. I’m feelin’ a bit edgy. Besides, we have a rule about this sort of thing in front of our guests.”

  “Kiss my arse,” Finn said.

  “I’m going nowhere near that thing,” Liam joked. “You can’t keep flitting from one chit to the next and expect anyone to take you seriously. I’m thinking you aren’t as serious about this girl as you might think.”

  “You’re an arsehole.”

  “Aye, I am. We’ve established that. Now calm down and get back to work.”

  When he was sure Finn was over the quick temper, he released his grip and settled against the bar again. The blonde was already weaving her way to the back of the crowd. Well, one future ex averted.

  “Dickhead.” Finn just chuckled and went back to pouring drinks. He admired that about his brother. While Finn never ran from a fight—but who the hell did?—he was the easy-tempered one of the O’Connor brothers. Quick to anger and quicker to move on.

  Even his hair was a light-brown compared to Liam’s inky black. They’d both inherited their grandpa’s light-green eyes, but Finn had their mother’s dimples and laugh, whereas Liam had their father’s more serious demeanor and large frame capable of stopping a fight with just a look.

  Liam headed back to his side of the bar and shook his head when he spotted a ginger trying to pick up a woman clearly out of his league. He grabbed a mug, tilting it as he pulled on the lever of the draft beer before placing the full glass in front of the poor guy.

  He deftly removed the previously ordered cosmo and got a thankful look tossed his way. Single men should never order a cosmo if they hoped to get laid. That should be etched on the bar somewhere.

  A couple of hours passed in a blur of sloshing liquor and tinkling laughter. Liam couldn’t remember the number of women he’d run off that night. Jesus, they were like flies on honey every time his brother smiled. He thought about the next week or two it would take the attorneys to draft something while he spent his time playing bodyguard and groaned.

  He had inventory to finish and he’d been thinking about making some improvements to the bar. But he couldn’t take the time for all that if he had to babysit his brother.

  “Hey, arsehole, stop frowning like someone kicked your puppy. You’re scaring away the customers,” Finn said for the fifth time that night between pouring drinks.

  And for the fifth time, Liam shot him the bird.

  “Maybe you should go in the back and do some dishes,” his brother suggested as he pulled a couple of pints. “Or go get laid. That woman over at the corner booth has been giving you the side-wink all night. Go say hello.”

  “Know what would make me happy?” He couldn’t stop one corner of his mouth curling upward, an idea forming in his mind. If an O’Connor was one thing, they were an Irish cliché. They loved whiskey, women, fighting, and gambling. In no particular order.

  “I’m trembling in my boots,” Finn said, but his big smile betrayed him. His brother was the funny one. The life of the party. Had been all their lives.

  “One month without a date. I bet you can’t go one damn day, let alone a month, without picking up a woman or trying to marry one. A monk for a month.” That would give Liam time to have an iron-clad prenup drawn up that would keep their family business safe from Finn’s bad choice in women.

  “Harsh. You’re in a mean mood, brother. Is it so bad that I want what Ma and Pa have? That kind of love that sees you through the good and the bad?”

  “Life’s not a fairy tale, Finn. What they have is rare. You know that as well as I do. They work hard on their relationship and have a special bond. But you’re not going to find it with these women you keep dating. And certainly not in the first two weeks—or in the case of the last one, in the first night—of meeting them.”

  His brother’s eyebrow rose. That was never a good sign. Meant he was planning something diabolical.

  Like that time he convinced Liam to take over the paper route so he could flirt with Sherry Arthur, and they both nearly got shot by her dad.

  “Tell ya what,” Finn said as he wiped down the bar, the last of their regulars heading out for the night. “I might take that bet if you’ll date the very next single woman who comes through the door. Doesn’t matter who she is.”

  Liam snorted. “What the hell do I have to do with your pathological dating practices?”

  “That’s the bet. I go without for one month, but you have to go out with the next available woman who comes in—and not just get her in your bed, although considering your sour mood, that would be a good start. You need to lighten the hell up, and a girlfriend is just what the doctor ordered.” Finn stuck out his hand. “Deal? Of course, I’d much rather be the one curling up with a nice, warm—”

  “Jackass,” Liam grumbled. But if it would save the pub from one more month of his brother’s whims, then so be it. Maybe he’d have to take someone out to a couple of meals. No big deal. He’d done it before.

  Not since your ex ran off with your best friend, his dick reminded him.

  Traitor.

  His dick was right and clearly interested in what might happen after dinner, but Liam had a hard rule: no relationships. Been there and burned the T-shirt while still wearing it. He thought about not having to spend his evenings like a jealous ex behind the bar, warning off all the marriage-minded ladies from Finn, and grabbed his hand. “Deal.”

  They shook on it.

  “Maybe if you find your own woman, you’ll lay off me for once. You’re tense. A woman would do you good.”

  Liam had no intention of falling in love ever again.

  And then the front door opened, and his stomach sank.

  …

  Six hours ago, Cassie O’Brian sat across the desk from her agent, in a posh office that had once been featured in a magazine, as she read the new pages of her novel. But the frown on Tansey Clark’s face sent twisting knots through Cassie’s gut.

  Her agent hated the pages.

  Flashes of The Rustic Pig, her parents’ pub, popped up like a bad movie reel in her brain. The place where she’d waited tables until her hands were callused and her heart was nearly broken.

  And then she’d discovered writing.

  A blessing. Her way out of the hell only an introvert would understand when forced to live in her parents’ extroverted world.

  Until today. When everything went to shit.

  She leaned against her chair and forced herself to keep breathing.

  Tansey had that pinched-up face, like she’d swallowed wrong or put something in her mouth that tasted like feet.

  Oh. My. Crap. She really hates it.

  What am I going to do?

  I’m fucked.

  She didn’t even like using that word, which was part of her problem.

  Her sweet romance novels had been doing well, but her agent had insisted Cassie challenge herself.

  Write something sexy. That’s where the real money is. If Cassie wanted to write full-time and quit waitressing forever, she could get her a big, fat advance for an erotic romance.

  So Cassie had done exactly that. They’d toiled for weeks over a story idea, and then her agent had pitched it to a publisher, who was now dying to get their hands on this amazing book. And they’d paid her a big advance, too. All Cassie had to do was go home and write her sexy novel.

  It was a dream come true.

  Except for one thing.

  Cassie didn’t have much experience to draw from. She’d always been too shy to date in high school and a little too round to relish getting naked much in college—thank you Double Stuf Oreos for that.

  Yum. Double Stuf Oreos.

  No. She wasn’t that girl anymore.

  But here she sat, at twenty-five and barely more than a virgin. But hey, they didn’t call it fiction for nothing, right?

  She’d spent the last three months writing this cute book about a restaurant owner who falls for a sexy redhead,
not realizing she’s his nemesis—a food critic who posted several damaging reviews. But of course, they work it out in the end, and all the in-between parts were filled with hot wax and whipped cream escapades. It was darling, if she did say so herself.

  When the expression on her agent’s normally flawless skin turned into a prune, Cassie’s stomach sunk to the bottom of her shoes.

  “Oh, honey,” Tansey said. “You know I adore you. You are absolutely my favorite author, but more than that, you’re my friend. And we’re always honest with each other, right?”

  Well, Tansey was. As bile filled the back of Cassie’s throat in an uncomfortable ball, all she could do was nod. Lie, Tansey. Please, just this once. But she knew what was coming.

  “Girl, the book is good, but the sex scenes are reading like some clinical trial. Put slot A in tab B and pump it hard. Pump it real hard.”

  Cassie gulped. So what if she’d borrowed some of her ideas from sex manuals she picked up from the library? After her favorite librarian had given her a look much like the one Tansey wore, she’d ordered a few more online.

  “But I’m accurate, right? Everything goes where it’s supposed to.” She held her breath.

  Tansey snorted. “As your friend, my advice to you, if you want this book to work, is to get some experience. Watch a bunch of Cinemax porn or read some sexy books that aren’t manuals. Maybe go on a date.”

  Clearing her throat, Cassie frowned. “You want me to go screw some stranger for research? That’s all kinds of wrong.”

  Tansey waved a hand in front of her face. “Of course not, silly. I’m your agent. I’m a professional. I’d never say such a thing.” She took her glasses off and her eyebrow rose into her perfectly coiffed bangs. Cassie absolutely understood that look.

  She was screwed if she didn’t figure out an answer to her problem fast.

  Six hours later, those words echoed in Cassie’s head as she stared at the door of her parents’ pub. No way in the world was she going to lose her shyness overnight, so she knew what she had to do.

  But the idea of walking in and telling her family she’d failed made her want to puke on her boots.