by Josie Kerr
“Well, no. She was just filling in.”
“So do it. You might not even like her once you get to know her, but you’ll never know unless you ask her.”
“That sounds suspiciously practical, Cal. Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”
“Toby and I were talking about you and your dating situation . . .”
“Oh my God, stop. Y’all have done enough.” Nolan felt his face grow warm. “And anyway, you two should not be giving anyone dating advice, especially not Tobias. Jeez.”
“Tobias told me she came with Dad.”
“She did. Toby didn’t even look at her.”
“I don’t know if I could be that restrained.”
Nolan barked a laugh. “Oh, I know you couldn’t be that restrained. She kept glaring at Bridget, though, but I don’t think Bridget noticed.”
“Probably saw her as competition, especially if Dad tried laying on the charm.”
“Yeah. And I wouldn’t put it past the old bastard to play the ‘give a dying man one last romp’ card. You know it would work on a lot of people.”
“Yep.”
Nolan cocked his head at Cal. “Did he ever make a move on Amanda?”
“Oh no.” Cal snorted. “Dad only plays games that he knows he can win, and he wouldn’t win with her. I mean, I love her dearly, but the woman is high-maintenance, and Dad doesn’t do high-maintenance.”
“Yeah.” Nolan wondered if Cal was thinking about their mother, whose mental health issues put her firmly in the high-maintenance category, so much so that his father had stuck her in a home and essentially abandoned her.
“You need to ask that woman at the fight club out. I’m gonna ask you for proof of asking her out when you deliver the cakes.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Do it. Life’s too short to not grab it by the balls, Nolan. You, of all people, should know that.” Cal wagged a finger at his younger brother. “Now get your ass out of here, and go make sure Toby has as least one person clapping for him.”
Nolan laughed and slipped off the stool. “I’ll report in tomorrow when I bring the cakes.” He waved at his middle brother as he headed out the door, distracted by thoughts of a certain dark-eyed female fighter.
Chapter Ten
“Seriously, Meghan, you need to tell me if you need any help. I waited tables and tended bar for years.”
Meghan sniffled and gave Bridget’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks, hon. We’re good, for right now, at least, I think. Next week, though? Your guess is as good as mine. If I can just keep Da from trying to do too much, too soon . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she grinned weakly at Bridget.
Bridget nodded.
“Sully’s supported my Da’s music for years. I know I just met you, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life.” Bridget sucked in a shaky breath, hoping to at least give Meghan some semblance of commiseration. “I mean it. Anything you need.”
Meghan nodded. “I will. I’m gonna freshen my makeup some. Can you tell Ronnie that I’ll be down in just a sec?”
“Sure.” Bridget impulsively hugged Meghan, shocking both Meghan and herself. “Okay. Um. Yeah. See you down there.”
Bridget scampered down the stairs and tried not to cry. Eamon Sullivan, Sully, as he was called by all the patrons of Foley’s Public House, had changed drastically in just the short time Bridget had known him. Spry and gregarious, he was the stereotypical vision of an Irish bar owner just six months ago. Now, he was all but a shut-in in the apartment he shared with his daughter, Meghan, rarely venturing downstairs. Meghan had essentially been running the bar for years, but Bridget could tell the dark-haired bartender was terrified, both for the establishment and for her father. Bridget would be the same way.
She halted when she saw Tobias. Skankin’ Janey Mac generally had a local opener, and she knew Tobias had been asked back, but she hadn’t put two and two together. She hung back by the stairs, which afforded her an unencumbered view of the entire pub. She searched the open bar area for Nolan’s sweetly handsome face. After all, at six and a half feet tall, he was a hard fellow to miss.
Ah, there he is. Nolan was sitting at a high top with two other guys, and he looked absolutely miserable. The other men wore what Bridget’s best friend, Kat, called the Douchebag Uniform—flip-flops, khaki shorts, and a visor. They had several empty shot glasses in front of them, plus a half-empty pitcher of beer. One of them slugged Nolan on the arm and then wrapped his own arm around Nolan’s neck and obnoxiously mussed his hair. Nolan extricated himself, but the handsy guy grabbed hold of Nolan’s shirt. Bridget hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to intervene, but decided she’d rather risk irritating Nolan than leaving him at the mercy of those two idiots. Bridget let her hair down, undid another button on her blouse, and stalked toward the high top.
All three men noticed her making her way to their table. Handsy and Mouthbreather merely stood and gaped, but Nolan wore the most remarkable expression on his face. She didn’t quite know what to think of it, so she locked eyes with the big man and adopted what she hoped was a sultry look.
“Nolan.” Bridget stood on the opposite side of the table from him, shoulders back, boobs out. She felt ridiculous but knew the stance worked by the way that all three men ogled her.
“Hey, Bridget.” Unlike Handsy and Mouthbreather, Nolan never took his eyes from Bridget’s. Score another for Nolan. “I didn’t expect you to be here tonight.”
“Wait—you know her, Harper?” Handsy looked from Nolan to Bridget and back. “Seriously?”
Bridget thought she saw a slight tic in Nolan’s jaw, and she was sure she saw his nostrils flare a bit, but he just nodded and replied in an even tone, “Sorry, guys. This is Bridget. Bridget, this is Brock”—Nolan nodded at Handsy and then at Mouthbreather—“and this is Hunter.”
“Charmed, boys.” Bridget nodded at the two douchebags but made sure they knew she was there for Nolan by moving closer to him and leaning one arm on the table, almost rubbing up against him. She was pretty sure she was flashing some sideboob at Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber, and she knew for sure that Nolan could see straight down her blouse, but she didn’t really give a shit.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tobias glance over at the table and then do a double take, and she thought maybe this little distraction might be working too well. She decided to rein in it. She stopped posing as aggressively and subtly moved away from Nolan.
“Yeah, I know the band from back in Boston, and I figured I’d stop in and see them.” Not a lie, though she prayed that Nolan would remember her father was in a band and that he would act accordingly. She’d planned on running the Douchey Twins off by the time her father came down from visiting with Sully. Hopefully. If not, well, her mild-mannered father might be knocking some heads together, and none of them needed that.
Nolan grinned at her, and she knew that he got it. “It’s always nice to have an in, right?”
“Totally.” Bridget had a flash vision of the hem of her blouse wrapped in Nolan’s big hands and his face buried between her breasts, and she wondered if she was just perverted or if his words truly had a double meaning. Nolan’s eyes flicked down to her cleavage, and she felt her nipples tighten. Unless he was blind, he’d notice, and she wasn’t sure she cared.
Brock looked from Bridget to Nolan and back a few times. Then he shook his head and downed the drink in front of him.
“Hunter, let’s jet. We’ve got to get to that thing.” Brock punched his buddy.
“What? We don’t have to be anywhere because we weren’t invited—ow! Shit, Brock. What’s your problem, man? Don’t you want to . . . oh. Yeah, that thing. We need to go, right?”
“Right. Bridget, it was interesting meeting you.”
She beamed an insincere smile at the two men as they left the table, and then turned back to Nolan, who was staring at her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said in a low voice.
“Are
you angry?”
He chuckled. “God, no. How could I be mad at that? Those guys were giving me shit about coming by myself, and I was trying to figure out how to get rid of them. That was pretty perfect.”
“I’m glad you’re not mad. I didn’t want to upset you, but you seemed miserable.”
“Yeah. But thanks, Bridget. I mean it.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Tobias Harper, and I’d like to thank Foley’s Public House for letting me open for Skankin’ Janey Mac tonight. I’m gonna open the night with a standard, so grab a partner—this means you, Baby Brother—and shake a leg.”
The strains of “Orange Blossom Special” began, and Nolan extended his hand. Bridget laughed but didn’t hesitate to take his hand, and they moved to the dance floor.
Chapter Eleven
Nolan and Bridget swung around the dance floor for most of Tobias’s set, only slowing down when Tobias did. By the time Tobias began playing a ballad, they were both breathing heavily and a little sweaty. Nolan wondered if Bridget realized her blouse was becoming a bit transparent, or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. No, he didn’t want that; if she was going to be showing anything that her blouse covered, he wanted it to be a private viewing.
He pulled her closer to him as they swayed to the music of Tobias’s steel pedal guitar. Nolan looked down at Bridget and was surprised to find her watching him. He smiled at her, and she gave him a shy grin. She bit her plump bottom lip and gave a little shrug, and Nolan thought he felt the smallest of squeezes.
Nolan cupped her face in his hand, curling an errant strand of hair that had escaped from her topknot. Bridget rubbed her cheek against his fingers, gave a little sigh, and closed her eyes. He moved his hand to her neck, caressing the smooth skin of her throat.
“What are you thinking about?” He barely heard her question because she’d spoken so quietly.
Nolan answered honestly without pausing, “That this right here is something I never thought I’d experience.”
“What?”
“Dancing with a beautiful woman to my brother’s music. It’s . . . amazing.”
Bridget didn’t respond. She just kept gazing up at him. To lessen his mounting anxiety, Nolan guided her into a gentle spin, which seemed to delight Bridget because she laughed before nestling back into his arms and resting her head on his chest. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and take her someplace where they could be alone, but the slow song ended, and Tobias launched into a fast-paced swing tune that had Nolan and Bridget laughing and twirling around Foley’s small dance floor.
He continued holding her close as the last strains of music reverberated through the air, and they stayed in the middle of the dance floor, just staring into the other’s eyes until Nolan heard the sound of a masculine cough.
“Oh, Dad! Hi!”
Dad?
Nolan matched the man’s bemused expression with one of his own. He put his hand out and introduced himself. “Nolan Harper, sir.”
The man inclined his head as he returned the handshake. “Liam Doherty.” He arched an eyebrow, and Nolan followed his glance to where Nolan’s hand rested on the curve of Bridget’s lower back. Oops. Nolan cleared his throat and jerked his hand away, prompting Bridget to roll her eyes at both men.
Nolan noted that father and daughter shared the same dark eyes and hair, as well as a slim, muscular build. Once again, he felt like some sort of bumbling behemoth, especially when standing next to Bridget’s trim father, who wasn’t much taller than his only child. The man was in exceptional shape, though he didn’t look much older than Tobias.
“Nolan.” Speak of the devil . . .
“Hey, Toby. Have you met Liam yet?” Nolan stammered, suddenly nervous at the meeting of the families, much more nervous than when Bridget encountered his father. Maybe he was concerned because he actually gave a shit about the feelings of this group.
“Briefly. Tobias Harper. Thank you for letting me horn in on your popularity.”
Tobias cleared his throat as well, and Nolan blurted, “God, we all sound like we’ve got consumption.”
The group quieted, but then Liam and Tobias began to laugh, and Nolan breathed a sigh of relief. Bridget scooted nearer to him and slipped her arm around his waist as the group traded small talk until it was time for Skankin’ Janey Mac to take the stage.
Tobias joined Nolan and Bridget at their table for a few songs before leaning over to Bridget and speaking something into her ear. She grinned at him and nodded enthusiastically, and the big man gave her a wink and motioned to Nolan to join him outside.
“Did you have any idea that her father was in Skankin’ Janey Mac?” Tobias asked as he and Nolan wheeled the hard-sided guitar case through the parking lot to Tobias’s truck.
Nolan barked a laugh. “Uh, no. I mean, I knew her father was a musician, but I had no idea he was playing tonight at Foley’s, of all places.”
Tobias pulled the tailgate down on his truck and lifted one heavy case up into the bed. “I told you she likes you. Though, I saw that look Daddy gave you.” Tobias chuckled.
“Yeah, I don’t think Liam appreciated me almost touching his daughter’s ass.”
“Well, it’s a mighty fine ass.” Nolan shot his older brother a stern look, and Tobias cackled. “Oooh, someone’s a little protective. Boy, you need to ask her out on a proper date, and I mean a date. You need to get out there.”
“Hell, I wasn’t ever out there . . .”
Tobias snorted. “Believe me, I know.” He leveled a look at Nolan. “She’s not going to bite you. Well, she might. But it’ll be fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows comically for a moment but then grew serious. “Quit playing it safe, Nol. Staying inside the lines isn’t any fun. And you know, sometimes breaking the rules is exactly the right thing to do.”
Chapter Twelve
“Birdie, come and sit down and talk to your old man.”
Bridget set the two beers down on the coffee table and then collapsed onto the small love seat across from where her father lounged in a club chair. She’d been to lunch with him on the first day he’d gotten into town, and of course had seen him play earlier in the evening, but now, with her father sitting in her living room and her being a captive audience, she knew he expected to have a talk with his only child. She was just thankful her mother hadn’t followed through with her threat to accompany him. Liam massaged his temples, and Bridget suddenly became aware of how much older and tense her father seemed.
“Pop, is everything okay?”
“It’s fine, Birdie. But your mother—”
Bridget groaned. Of fucking course.
“Bridget, she just wants what’s best for you. She’s worried that this is all a reaction to this thing with Kevin—”
“Divorce, Pop. The word is ‘divorce.’ ”
“It was just so sudden, Birdie, and—”
“Sudden? Sudden? We had been separated for over five years. I’d been asking him for a divorce for more than three. But when he decided he’d met the love of his life, he finally realized he needed to get divorced, but it’s my fault the marriage fell apart? I’ll tell you what, Pop—it takes two people to make a marriage, but it also takes two people to break a marriage. But it’s done, finally, and I’m ready to start over.”
“Wait—you’re divorced?”
“Yeah. I got the papers a few weeks ago.” Bridget gave her father an anemic smile. “I’m officially single now.”
“Oh, Birdie, come here.” Liam moved over to the couch and wrapped his daughter in a tight hug as she sobbed against his chest.
Bridget hated crying, and she especially hated crying over Kevin Donahue. She’d promised herself there would be no more tears over a man who’d constantly lied and let her down, and she’d kept that promise until tonight.
So, safe in her father’s arms, she allowed herself to mourn her marriage, at least for the moment. When she was all cried out, she sat up, and with a sniffle, took a long draw on her beer.
“Thanks, Pop. I guess I needed that.” Bridget blew out a breath and turned to her father. “I know you worry. And I know you think that I’m settling, that I’m going to do exactly what I did back home. But I’m not. Hell, Junior won’t let me.”
It was Liam’s turn to laugh. “He been riding you hard?”
“Oh my God, he’s brutal. That man doesn’t play at all.”
“I, uh, noticed you have a nice shiner there.”
Bridget’s fingers drifted to the bruised flesh around her eye. “Yeah. I got distracted, and Tig popped me good. That’s what I get for not paying attention. He’s got quick hands.”
“You’re sparring with a man?” Liam frowned. “I don’t know about this, Bridget.”
She rolled her eyes. “Pop, we’re in the same weight class. He’s a good partner for me, believe me. This is a good thing.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Pop in and say hi before you head into the studio tomorrow. I know Paddy wants to see you, and you can meet Tig and the rest of the guys. It’ll be good, yeah?”
Liam nodded. “Yeah, but don’t expect me to be there when you get started at the crack of dawn. I’m a musician—the only time I see the sunrise is when I haven’t been to bed yet. And speaking of, I know you’ve got an early day, so I’ll let you get some rest.”
He hauled himself to his feet and kissed the top of Bridget’s head. “Night, Birdie. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I’m glad you made the move. You needed a change of scenery.” After a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, Liam bid his daughter good night and disappeared into the guest room, leaving Bridget alone with her thoughts. She washed the beer glasses and put them away and put a load of laundry in to wash, all the while replaying the evening’s discussion in her mind.
If she was being truthful, she’d been thinking a lot about what she was actually doing in Atlanta. Was she just running away from everything? Avoiding the inevitable whispers and pitying looks?
