On the larger scale, Jake was beginning to doubt he would ever find the right woman. His views were too old-fashioned, his requirements too stringent. To truly capture his heart, a woman would have to be fun and intelligent, angelic on the outside but naughty on the inside. Someone who was not afraid to live life, but mature enough to know what was really important. She’d have to be easy to look at, too, but she didn’t need to be beautiful. He’d had plenty of gorgeous, sexy women. He’d learned through experience that he wanted something more than just physical beauty. He wanted someone he could spend hours just talking to. Someone whose eyes would light up at the mere sight of him. Someone soft yet fierce of heart. Feminine but not needy.
Someone who would be by his side at the fucking bar when he needed her even if she wasn’t speaking to him.
The crowd roared their approval as Ian deftly flipped a fifth of Patron behind his back and up over his opposite shoulder. Even Jake had to smile as Ian took a deep bow. At least one of them was in the right frame of mind.
* * *
Taryn Malone pulled the jacket around her a little tighter. The early October night had a bit of a chill to it. It wasn’t raining, exactly, but she felt the lightly falling mist right down into her bones.
She tried not to think of where she would spend the night. It was Friday night, her car was in the garage, out of commission until possibly Monday - more likely Tuesday with the Columbus Day holiday, and she had less than ten dollars in her pocket. It wouldn’t have been a problem for most people. All they would have to do is whip out their credit card of choice and settle in for a few days of rest and relaxation in what looked to be a nice little town. But Taryn wasn’t like most people. She didn’t have any credit cards, or ID of any kind.
Because Taryn Malone didn’t exist.
Her hair started curling into loose ringlets as the mist fell upon it, a trait she’d inherited from her mother, or so she’d always believed. She shivered as the cold curls bounced against her neck, knowing that pretty soon she would be soaked through. What she needed was a warm place to dry out for a bit before she found herself a little nest somewhere.
Her stomach growled hungrily. She reached into the backpack she always carried with her and pulled out an apple, thankful she’d bought the bag of fresh-picked Fujis at the little roadside stand the day before. This would be it for a while. A hot, satisfying meal would not be an option tonight. She looked longingly at the 24-hour IHOP across the street. Maybe tomorrow.
She had no idea how she was going to pay for the repairs on her car, either, but she didn’t tell the mechanic that. He was just a young guy, maybe eighteen, apologetic because he couldn’t get her up and running again right away. The hundred dollars in cash she had to pay for the tow pretty much wiped her out.
Taryn sighed. She should have just abandoned the car and hitchhiked, though the way her luck was running lately, she would probably have been picked up by a state trooper. As bad as things were now, that would be worse. In Taryn’s world, avoiding anyone in law enforcement was imperative.
She looked around the quiet, small-town setting. At least if she was in a city she could find some kind of work – there was always someone somewhere who needed temporary help and didn’t ask too many questions. But this place looked like Mayberry. Old, established. Clean. Nice.
She shivered again, tossing the apple core into the park off to the left for some hungry squirrel to find. She paused, scanning for a place she might be able to hole up for a few hours. On the far end was a bench beneath a sprawling maple, but she quickly dismissed it as too visible. Anyone walking or driving by would spot her, and this was definitely not the kind of town where people would simply turn up their collars and pretend not to notice. But what about on the other side of the tree? It was a possibility she locked away for later consideration. She was too restless, too anxious to think about bedding down just yet. And she needed to chase some of the chill from her bones first.
Taryn pulled one hand from the warmth of her pocket to finger the Celtic cross she wore around her neck on a thin piece of leather cord. “If you’re listening, Charlie,” she murmured, “I could sure use a little guidance here, because I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”
She waited in silence for some indication, some sign – anything – but sensed nothing. With a sigh, she started walking again. “That’s okay, Charlie. I know you’d help me if you could.”
Two blocks later she began to hear the pounding bass. Three blocks later she heard the guitars and vocals that went with it. By the fourth block she found herself under the dark green and white-striped awning outside of Jake’s Irish Pub, feeling the vibrations of the music and laughter through the soles of her well-worn shoes. Old-fashioned lantern lights burned brightly, bathing the sidewalk in a warm glow. A peek inside the windows showed a mob of happy, smiling people.
Her eyes were drawn almost immediately to the large man behind the bar. He had to be six-four, six-five at least, maybe more. His shoulders were broad, with a heavily-muscled chest and arms clearly visible as they pressed against the light blue button down shirt he wore. His hair was so black it was almost blue, reaching down to extend slightly past his collar.
She lifted up onto her toes and strained to catch another glimpse as waves of people moved in and out of her line of sight. He appeared again, and her heart beat a little faster. But when, against all probability, he turned to the window and the deepest, most intense blue eyes she’d ever seen locked on hers, it stopped completely.
He couldn’t actually see her, she told herself. Not through all those people, not through the tinted glass into the darkness. Yet something in his expression seemed to change. Surprise? Puzzlement? Curiosity? She didn’t know.
The man behind the bar kept his eyes locked on her. Another man, remarkably similar in appearance but slightly smaller and likely younger, tapped him on the shoulder. The man said something, and soon the younger man was looking out at her, too.
* * *
“Do you know her?” Jake said quietly to Ian. He stared in fascination at the woman standing outside in the rain. The glow of the lanterns created a prismatic effect in the mist, creating a nimbus around her head. With those big eyes and curls framing her face, she looked like an angel. An angel with the most wistful, haunted eyes he’d ever seen.
“Nope, never seen her before,” Ian said after a brief glance, pouring two drinks, one with each hand. When Jake still hadn’t moved, Ian handed the drinks to the patrons and looked back at him. “Hey, snap out of it, man,” he said, snapping his fingers. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little busy in here.”
Jake turned away just long enough to tell Ian where to get off, but Ian was already at the far end of the bar. When Jake looked back to the window, she was gone. Without thinking, he started for the opening that would put him out on the floor and eventually out the door. Ian grabbed him by his forearm.
“You’re not fucking serious,” Ian hissed quietly in his ear. “Jesus, Jake. What the hell’s gotten into you?”
Jake blinked, stopping in his tracks. What was he thinking? He had a full bar of paying customers. He was short a bartender. He couldn’t just walk out and leave Ian behind the bar alone.
“Hey, you alright?” Ian asked, concerned as Jake reversed direction and resumed his former position at the far end. Jake nodded, though he wasn’t quite sure. Something didn’t feel right. He tried to shake off the feeling. “Yeah, just tired.”
“Well, wake the fuck up, brother. Your public awaits.”
Jake pushed thoughts of the mysterious woman from the forefront of his mind and threw himself back into the fray, taking two or three orders at a time, moving with fluid economy and practiced precision. No matter how fast he moved, the demand only seemed to grow right along with the crowd.
* * *
He had been looking right at her with that strange expression on his face. He couldn’t possibly recognize her, could he?
The second
he looked away, she beat feet past the Pub until she was out of sight. She looked back over her shoulder, half expecting to see him coming out after her. She paused, but kept at the ready. She could be damn fast when she needed to be.
She waited for several minutes, but there was no sign of the man from the Pub. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she was probably overreacting. She was thousands of miles away from where she started out. Too many years had passed; there was little if any chance that anyone would recognize the girl she had once been in the woman she now was. She kept her only really identifying characteristic well concealed.
Yep, she decided. She was paranoid, probably due at least in part to the fact that she was cold, hungry, and tired.
She had to admit, though, the man’s reaction had her curious. No one had ever quite frozen like that at the mere sight of her. Without conscious thought, she began to move slowly back toward the Pub. She had to look, just one more time.
Taryn stood in front of the window again for a good five minutes, but the man behind the bar didn’t look out at her again. He appeared in her line of sight for brief moments here and there, but his attention was elsewhere. For some reason, she felt almost disappointed.
She fingered the Celtic cross again, and the oddest little tingle ran up her spine. “Really?” she asked, directing her eyes upward. The tingling sensation intensified for an instant, then disappeared entirely. Taryn smiled. “Thanks, Charlie.”
Chapter Two
For as loud as the music was outside the bar, it was deafening within it. The place smelled of finely-aged whiskey and wood polish. Soft lights glowed all around, giving it a warm, welcoming feel. As small as she was – barely reaching five-two – Taryn was soon swallowed by the crowd.
Taryn felt instantly at home in the Pub. She’d spent most of the last eight years working in one just like it. Unofficially, of course, but no one ever questioned it and that kind of thing had never really mattered to Charlie. He was one of those few exceptional people who believed the true measure of a person was determined by something more important than a plastic card with your name on it. Loyalty, trust, working hard – those were the things that really defined a person, he’d said, not what their name was or where they came from.
It gave her an idea.
It took some effort to get to the bar, but not all of it was unpleasant. With the level of noise and density of the ebullient crowd, Taryn quickly discovered the most effective method for making forward progress was a well-placed hand in a strategic location. By the time the men turned to see who had taken such liberties, Taryn had disappeared once again.
It was the younger guy who spotted her first. A brief raise of his eyebrows and a flickering glance toward the window was followed by a dazzling smile. “So she is courageous as well as beautiful,” he said, handing two filled mugs to the man on her right. “What’s your pleasure?”
Taryn returned his smile with one equally devastating. It was a skill she had mastered years earlier. She also let her eyes linger on his lips just a second longer than necessary as she ran her tongue lightly across her lip. Ian’s eyes flashed. Gotcha.
God bless the male sex, they were so easily baited. “You’re very busy tonight.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning against the bar as if there weren’t two dozen people around her vying for his attention. “A little.”
“Looks like you could use another bartender.”
Ian’s grin widened. “You offering?”
“Oi, Ian,” called Jake. “What the –“ Jake stopped when he saw who had captured his brother’s undivided attention. It wasn’t unusual to see Ian flirting with a pretty woman, but for some bizarre reason, seeing the two of them leaning towards each other over the bar rubbed him the wrong way.
“She says she can help out behind the bar,” Ian informed him with a grin.
“Is that right?” Jake walked over, gathering a few orders along the way. “You tend?”
She nodded, her smile fading a little. This was the man who had pinned her with his gaze through the window. He was much bigger close-up. Definitely related to the younger guy, but infinitely more intense. Harder. She suppressed a little shiver. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
* * *
The closer Jake got to her, the stranger he felt. He likened it to an electrical current flowing through his body, which, unfortunately, he had experienced. Comparatively speaking, this instance was much more pleasant.
Who had eyes like that? Layered, like a custom paint job. If he had to guess, he’d say her eyes were purplish with a couple of clear coats of smoky gray on top, the exact hue of the sky moments before a summer thunderstorm. It had to be a trick of the lights, though, because no one could actually have eyes like that. Thankfully, there was no trace of the haunted look he’d seen earlier, making him think he might have imagined it.
“What was that last order?” he asked, locking his blue gaze with hers.
“Excuse me?”
“The last order I took. What was it?” He fixed her with a level gaze.
“Oh, come on, Jake,” began Ian, but Jake ignored him.
The woman took a breath. He knew, because his eyes were drawn to the subtle rise and fall of the nicely-endowed chest peeking through that jacket.
“Two pints of Killian, one Irish coffee, a Baileys and cream no ice, and two fingers of Grey Goose with a splash of lime.”
The corners of Jake’s mouth twitched. “What’s the secret to pulling a good draft?”
She appeared to consider his question for a moment, then leaned forward. Jake mimicked the movement, putting his ear within inches of her lips. Even with all the noise, Jake had no trouble hearing her low, quiet-toned answer. “Giving it just the right amount of head.”
The twitch became a full-fledged grin.
It was a crazy idea. Jake didn’t tolerate just anybody behind his bar. But he was desperate. Plus, for some strange reason, he liked the idea of having her back with him instead of out in the rowdy crowd. Quite a few of the men were already looking at her as if she was a tasty snack. He rationalized the impulse by telling himself he wasn’t doing it for her or even him, for that matter; having someone like that behind the bar was simply good for business.
“Right,” he said. “You’re hired. Get your ass back here.”
The smile she gave him lit up the entire room, but it quickly faded when she tried to move. He understood the problem immediately: to get where he was, she would have to cross the length of the long bar and around the other end, which, given the current mob, would take about half an hour. She looked at him helplessly.
“Oi, Big John!” Jake barked. “A little help for my new barmaid, please.”
A huge, bearded man shifted next to her; plate-sized hands circled her waist and she was suddenly suspended over the bar. A host of cheers and catcalls went up in the immediate vicinity as Jake grabbed her out of the air and brought her down on the other side.
Jake was stricken by yet another strange sensation as his hands closed around her waist. It was like hitting the sweet spot on a baseball bat, or releasing the perfect three-point shot, knowing it was going to be a total swish without even having to look. And his thumbs didn’t skim the underside of her breasts. They didn’t. Because if they did, he’d have to think about how full and firm they were against his fingers, and that would be bad.
“What’s your name?”
“Taryn.”
“Taryn,” he repeated. He looked down at the Celtic cross strung around her neck. “A good Irish name. I’m Jake, that’s Ian.” He tilted his head over to the younger man, who inclined his head to her in an old-fashioned gesture.
“Any tips you make are yours to keep,” he said, relegating thoughts of small waists and firm breasts into the back of his mind as he took her leather jacket and backpack and hung them behind the bar.
“First order of business, take care of your ride,” he said, jerking his head toward the small
mountain that had just heaved her over the bar. “Sam Adams draft.”
She smiled right back at him, an innocent-looking grin on her face. But he saw the fire flickering in her eyes. “How much head?” she asked so that only he could hear her.
“Impress me,” he said simply. Her grin widened. She grabbed a frosted mug and twirled it around her fingers like a six shooter before tipping it beneath the spigot, leveling out near the top with a thin layer of foam. He was impressed, but he’d be damned if he’d let her know that just yet. He wasn’t a total pushover for smoky, gray-purple eyes and the most delectable ass he’d ever seen. He gave her a brief nod. “It’ll do.”
“On the house, John,” Jake called as he moved to the far side of the bar.
“Fuck,” he heard the big man mumble. “I’ll do that for free any time.”
The rest of the night passed in a blur. After the first hour or so, Jake began to relax a little. This girl was good – really good. Only once did she have to ask how to make something – and that was a Jake’s original so he couldn’t really fault her for that. She was fast on her feet, and friendly with all the customers without overdoing it.
And she never once got in his way. Well, there was that one time she turned quickly with two pitchers and did a full frontal on him, but he could hardly complain about that, because he had deliberately hesitated behind her, his eyes drawn to her hips. She absorbed the blow well and hadn’t spilled a drop.
Oh, and there was the time he leaned over her to grab a twenty and she backed her ass in to his rock-hard erection, but again, he really couldn’t muster a valid complaint about that.
No, the biggest problem Jake had was trying to keep Ian away from her long enough to do his job, but even that worked to their advantage. She was a good sport, dancing with him, mixing drinks with him, putting on a good show. The customers ate it up. Even Jake found himself laughing and shaking his head at their antics a few times. But what really had Jake smiling was that despite everything, Taryn seemed to be resisting Ian’s charms. More than once he’d seen her sidestep smoothly to avoid contact, or duck beneath Ian’s arm to get around him.
Dangerous Secrets: Callaghan Brothers, Book 1 Page 2
