by K. C. Enders
A flash of auburn hair on the platform brings my thoughts back to the pub. It’s not her. I wouldn’t be that lucky, but I want to see her again. Spend an evening chatting her up. There’s something magnetic about her that draws me in. She’s stunning, yeah, but there’s something else—something more to it.
McBride’s car park is quite empty when I stop in on the way home from the train station for a pint and some dinner, and to plan for the photography job I just booked. I’m sure there’s nothing to eat at our flat since it was Finn’s turn to get food in.
Francie’s chatting with a man at the bar and Finn, of course, is busy with yet another girl.
I head to the kitchen and drop my dinner in the fryer. It’s just easier to do it myself than trying to get Finn’s fucking attention. And after setting my chicken tenders and chips on the bar, I start my pint and take stock of the bar. Finn is truly useless when he’s flirting, so I clean the glasses he’s let pile up, stock the fruit trays and wipe down the bar before topping up my pint, adding a shamrock flourish in the foam just for the hell of it.
As I reach out to place the glass next to my dinner, I’m met with the most beautiful green eyes—an almost olive green with gold and brown twisting through them. And they belong to her.
Dear God, help a poor bastard like myself.
“Hiya. What can I get for you?”
She smiles brightly, plump pink lips spread wide, and gives my plate a little nod. “That looks perfect. Did you know I was on my way?”
I smile back and wink, grabbing a glass for her. “I was hoping…only hoping.” She chuckles and points to the Guinness when I raise the glass and nod toward the taps. “Are you wanting some dinner as well, then?” I ask, leaving her pint to settle.
“Seriously, I’ll have exactly that.” Her eyes crinkle as she looks at my basket of food. “This guy’s obviously got fantastic taste.”
Chuckling, I place her pint in front of her and head to the kitchen dropping more food in the fryer. With a hard squeeze to his shoulder, I let Finn know to listen for the timer, grab the vinegar, and head ’round to settle in next to her at the bar.
“So, I’ve good taste, then? Here, take this one. Finn will bring mine out in a bit.” I move my basket closer to her. “I’ve not seen you in since St. Paddy’s.”
She grabs a chip and pops it in her mouth. Is she humming? Yeah, she’s fucking humming…and bouncing in her seat a bit. I can’t help the smile that quirks up on one side of my face. “You are correct. I haven’t been in since. I think I needed some time to process all that green beer.” Her small frown and scrunched-up nose tell me there’s something more.
“I never actually introduced myself, I’m Lisbeth. Lis, really.” She wipes her fingers on her thigh before reaching out to shake my hand. Just then, Finn drops my food on the bar in front of her.
“Lissy. How are ye?” Finn leans in for a peck on the cheek. “You’ve met Aidan, then?”
She slides the basket across the bar to me.
“We were just getting to that.” She thrusts her hand out again to shake.
The moment our fingers touch, that current runs through me again. Forgoing her hand, I grasp her wrist and pull her toward me. I press my lips together, intending only to brush a chaste kiss on her cheek, but she turns just then. Just a bit, but it’s enough that my lips land on the corner of her mouth, and time stills. Her eyes go wide before fluttering shut and I want to stay there, right there for the rest of my life. But fucking Francie chooses that moment to slam his glass on the bar making Lisbeth jump away. I’m pretty sure that was his intent by the murderous look in his eye.
What is his fucking deal? I’ve seen Finn and Jimmy flirting plenty with patrons and taking kisses far more intimate than that across the bar. She’s smiling shyly with her fingertips resting against her lips when I drag my eyes away from Francie. I give her all of my attention, pitching my voice low. “You didn’t think I’d let Finn have a kiss and just be satisfied with a handshake for myself, did you?” I turn back to my dinner giving her a moment to think about it.
She takes a long draught from her pint and lets out a contented breath—I want that satisfaction to be because of me. “No. I don’t suppose so,” she whispers, meeting my eyes in the mirror behind the bar. Mhmm.
“Tell me what you do when you’re not here, drinking pints with the help.”
She pops her last chip in her mouth and tilts her head back and forth while she chews. “I’m either in school or mixing drinks, myself. But I’ll be doing instruction hours in the hospital soon, too.”
“All of that? When do you find time for fun?”
She shrugs her right shoulder and wipes her hands dropping her napkin in the empty basket. “I don’t really have a lot of free time. I either collapse on the couch with a movie or a book, or I come here with Gracyn, my roommate. She was here with me the other night.”
Finn turns resting against the bar and folds his arms across his chest glaring at me. “And where’s your Gracyn tonight?”
“She’s in Florida for spring break, but I need the hours so…” another shrug as she peers at me over the rim of her glass, “I’m sure she’s having enough fun for both of us.”
“You didn’t want to go?” I take her glass and reach across the bar to refill it. The idea of her lying on a beach, her creamy skin kissed by the sun has me tied in knots.
“I would love to be on the beach, are you kidding me? But I get to take everyone else’s shifts this week so that helps a ton. I should be able to cover tuition for my summer classes by the end of this week.” Lisbeth gives a quick nod, genuinely excited by this.
“Your parents don’t help you?” Her beer becomes her sole focus as Finn’s head shoots up from his phone and Francie glares daggers at me. What the fuck?
“No, I’m doing this on my own. Just me.” She says that like it’s not any big thing before she snarks, “Plus, I got to have dinner with the help, so…” She pulls out some cash and hands it across to Finn, but I’m not done. I’m not ready for her to go, for this to end.
I reach out taking her hand and turn it over in mine. “Can I take you to dinner? A real one, not bar food. Do you have a night free this week?” The inside of her wrist has the softest and silkiest skin. I brush my thumb along it and feel her pulse ramping up. Her breaths are shallow as she watches my thumb pause and take measure.
“I…um, I have to…” She lets out a soft sigh and looks up into my eyes. “I only have tonight and tomorrow night off. I…” After a quick glance to Francie, she eases her hand away from mine, breaking not only our contact but our connection. I feel the loss of her hand more than just physically.
“I’ll be needing your address to pick you up, then.” I grab a napkin, a fucking cocktail napkin—how cliché—and a pen from near the taps. I slide them toward her. “And I’ll be needing your number as well.” I study her profile while she writes out her information. Her skin is pure like porcelain, and her lips are all I’ll be thinking about as I try to fall asleep later. The taste of them. The feel of them.
I reach out and let a silky lock of her hair fall through my fingers as she finishes up her mobile number. The smell of her shampoo washes over me and, suddenly, I want to grab a fist full of it and drag her toward me. I want to feel it brush across my chest. I want a lot of things that would earn me all kinds of looks from Francie.
I’ll have to talk to Francie—find out what his problem with me is. And get Jimmy to take my shift tomorrow night.
Why does she not have any help from her parents? Where’s her support? And why is Francie keeping such a close eye on me?
Chapter 5
Lis
I feel his gaze on me as I walk across the bar, searing into my back as I leave for home.
I can still feel the way his fingers danced across the inside of my wrist caressing—sending electric heat through my veins.
The way his voice washed over me as we talked of everything and nothing at all. Deep an
d a little smoky like a good bourbon, I want to drink it in. Talking with him tonight—his focus solely on me—was like I was the most interesting person he’d ever spoken to. Like I was important. I don’t know the last time I felt that.
I slide my car up to the curb right in front of my building, grab my bag from the back seat and check for cars before getting out. There’s not a lot I like about being all alone this week, but I’m not ever going to complain about padding my checking account or a good parking spot.
Normally Francie watches to make sure I get home safe but he was acting ten different kinds of twitchy and weird tonight. I pull out my phone as I pop up the steps to my apartment and dial the number for McBride’s. “Hey, Finn. It’s Lis, can I talk to Francie for a minute?”
“Have to wait your turn. He’s having a go at Aidan just now.” Finn’s obviously enjoying not being on the receiving end of a tirade for a change. I love Finn, but that boy is a mess. “O’ course, Aidan might like an interruption. Are you up for swooping in to save your man?”
“What? Why is… Just, yeah. Tell Francie I need to talk to him.” I hear harsh words filtering through the noise in the background before Francie jumps Finn’s shit for interrupting, tearing into him, until I hear…my name. They get freakishly quiet and my heart pounds against my ribs. The shuffling of the phone, the hiss of static as it changes hands, and muffled warnings make their way through to me.
“What can I do for you, love? You’re safe home?” It’s not normally awkward when I call Francie, but tonight this is for sure. His words are terse and distracted.
I stumble through telling him I’m fine—that I wasn’t murdered in the few blocks home. It suddenly makes sense—the garbled phrases, the tone of what I heard.
I steel myself with a deep breath and launch into it. “I know you’re looking out for me, and you know I appreciate it, but…”
“Lisbeth darlin’, I’m setting the boy to rights. He’ll not be bothering you again, love.”
He full-named me.
This is serious.
“Francie, we’re going out to dinner tomorrow night. He wasn’t bothering me at all. Last week you asked for my thoughts on him, so…”
“No, you’re not. No. He’s a shift to work tomorrow night so he won’t be available.” Where the hell is this coming from?
“Is he married?”
“No.”
“Is he a murderer?”
“No, Lisbeth.” Francie huffs, obviously frustrated with me. “I’m looking out for you and…”
“Is it my heart in general or is Aidan the problem?” My phone pings with a message distracting me from Francie’s assurances that it’s me he’s worried about.
Unknown #: I’ve switched shifts with Jimmy. Just ignore Francie.
L: Aidan?
Unknown #: Yeah. Just tell him you understand and let him go. I’ll take the verbal lashing and see you tomorrow.
Unknown #: 7pm
I stare at my phone trying to think of a response, but I’m at a loss.
Unknown #: Sleep well, love.
I’m finally able to get off the phone after giving Francis the required, yes, I understand. With a freshly poured glass of wine, I head in for a long hot soak in the bath. The bubbles will relax me, or maybe the wine will, but there aren’t many things that a hot steamy bubble bath won’t make better. And while the tub fills with lavender-scented bubbles, I make sure to save Aidan’s number to my contacts.
The night bartender was supposed to be here an hour and a half ago. His car trouble means I’ve done all the dinner shift prep, restocked the beer coolers, and I no longer have time to buy something new to wear tonight. With both blenders whirring, a blown keg that needs to be replaced, and the clock ticking down the minutes, I’m about to come unglued.
I’m not normally a bitch, but I just can’t today. Can’t even.
“Let’s get caught up and then you can run.” My boss, Jenna, slides behind the bar and grabs a stack of drink orders. “Dumbshit needs to know he can’t take advantage of you like this.”
I’ve been working for her since high school, bussing tables until she needed another server. When a spot opened behind the bar, she gave me the chance. I get the new keg tapped and pour out the daiquiris, moving on to the next order up.
A few minutes later, we’re caught up and Jenna pushes me out from behind the bar. “Go—I’ve got this. Have fun, Lissy.” She hands me my bag after upending my tip jar into it.
“Thanks, Jenna. You sure this is okay?” She’s been so tired lately, I feel really bad leaving her like this.
“I’m good.” She stares past me to tonight’s bartender ambling through the front door looking like he just got out of bed. The sound of Jenna ripping into him follows as I hop down the stairs, fading as the door shuts behind me.
I haven’t heard much from Gracyn since she left for the beach and I need her desperately right now. She’s posted a few pictures on her Instagram, but has been pretty quiet—for her. Something’s up, but I have a feeling, it’s gonna take a bottle of wine to figure it out when she gets back to town this weekend.
I text her really quick, hoping she’s available now—Lord knows, she might decide in the middle of my dinner that she needs to talk to me.
L: Hey…you there? I need to borrow clothes.
G: Sure. Whatcha got going?
L: Dinner?
G: Who with?
L: Aidan. From McBride’s. Chatted last night. He’s sweet.
G: Mhmmm. Make good choices. All of that…
L: Thnx. Talk later?
I check when I get home and again when I get out of the shower but she doesn’t text back.
My plans for a glass of wine while I straighten my hair and YouTube makeup tutorials are replaced with half-dried wild waves spilling down my back and a quick swipe of mascara.
I send up a prayer that Gracyn didn’t take her black knit swing dress with her as I rifle through her overflowing closet. I have no idea where we’re going tonight, but that dress is my favorite and I can dress it up or down easily enough, depending on what Aidan has on.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s going to be here soon.
Finally, in the very back of her closet, I find the dress and pull it over my head while running back to my room for shoes. Taupe ankle boots or spiky heels—I grab both and set them by the front door.
After another coat of mascara, a little blush, and some lip gloss, I step back, trying to see myself as Aidan will. I haven’t been on a first date in more than four years, and my nerves are just kicking in to full riot mode. I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a knock at the door.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself, but my heart slams in my chest as I swing the door open.
Aidan’s black hair is still damp from his shower or maybe he took the time to style it. The curve of his lips, the stormy night of his eyes. The scruff on his jaw. I want to stand here and admire him, commit everything to memory—and maybe mess him up just a little.
His crisp white shirt stretches across his shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the pure strength of his forearms. My eyes travel down his body taking in the way his dress pants fit snugly to his hips and thighs. He’s even polished his shoes—totally an odd thing to notice but Rob would never have bothered with that. He’d have bought new ones.
Aidan cares how he looks, more than just a change of clothes and spray of cologne.
I get caught staring and feel a hot blush searing my cheeks. I bite at my lip and meet his smiling glance as I try to cover this awkward feeling. “You look great.” His smile crinkles the corner of his eyes calming my inner mess.
“Thanks. You’re sure, then, or do you want to take another look before we go?” he teases and reaches for the jacket I threw over the back of the couch. I slide my feet into my heels and laugh.
As he helps me slip into my jacket, he runs his fingers lightly down my arms—leaving a trail of
goose bumps—until his fingers find the inside of my wrists. His touch there sends tingles through my entire body; it takes everything I have not to shudder. “Shall we go?” he rasps out as he reaches for the door sliding his other hand to my lower back, guiding me out.
Chapter 6
Aidan
I guide her down the stairs to the walkway in front of her building keeping a hand at her back as much as I can. “Are you okay to walk? It’s just a few blocks.” I’d made reservations at a café close to where she lives, but those shoes she put on—fuck me.
She smiles and nods, teetering as we start toward the restaurant. I reach for her hand to steady her and tuck it securely into the crook of my elbow. The need to touch her driving me, I clasp my other hand over the top of hers, holding her firmly in place. Her gaze meets mine, followed by a sweet smile and a squeeze to my arm.
She blatantly checked me out when she opened the door to her flat. Her gaze lit every inch of my body, lingering on what she obviously liked. She moves her hand to my bicep. I can’t help but flex the muscle; I want to impress her. I want to feel her hands caress me the way her eyes did. She shudders almost imperceptibly as I move my hand to reach for that spot on her wrist again. I rub small circles there with the pad of my thumb, focusing entirely on her reaction, the hitch in her breath. The soft sigh she lets escape.
The café is fine. Dinner’s lovely. But Lis? Lis is fucking brilliant.
With the table separating us, it’s awkward to reach across to her, and I miss the contact.
“Tell me more, Lisbeth. Why nursing?” The more time I spend with her, the more I want to know what’s in her head, her heart. What her dreams are.