“I’m just blowing your mind this morning, aren’t I, Steve?”
“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head and turning bright red. “I’m going to shut up now. I’ll just let you know what information I need as we go.”
“Sounds good, Steve. Did you want Maribel to bring you a coffee? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
“I can get my coffee.” Steve was treading lightly now, as though everything was a test and he was already failing.
Junie pulled her phone back out. Now that she’d delegated, it was time to work on what was really important. Finding just the right place for her dinner tonight with Hugo.
Chapter 10
“Where did you get that dress?” Hugo asked as he took Junie’s hand and lifted it high so she could spin around elegantly. “You look amazing.”
“I grabbed it at lunch today.” She didn’t bother telling him it was from Maribel’s closet. The only reason it looked so appealing was because she was four inches taller than Maribel and a lot curvier. She was filling in every stitch of the dress that was probably meant to be airy and bohemian.
“And what place did you pick for dinner?” Hugo looked up and down the small street as if they must be in the wrong place. They were way off the beaten path now. A bit of panic flooded Junie, but she beat it back. This was very authentically her. That was what he’d asked for.
“Right here.” She pointed to the front door of what looked like an apartment. The only thing that distinguished it was a wooden sign that read Lublin’s Irish Pub. “It has great ratings. Very authentic.”
“A pub?”
“Yeah,” she said with a nervous laugh. “With a last name like O’Malley and this red hair it’s hard to hide the Irish.”
“And those freckles.” Hugo leaned in like he might kiss her and instead brushed his thumb across her cheek. It was intimate. It was welcomed. That was the surprising part.
“We can go somewhere else if you want.”
“Not a chance,” Hugo said, tugging Junie excitedly toward the entrance. “You’ll have to let me know how this place compares to a pub in South Boston.
“Nothing compares to Southie,” Junie corrected. “It’s incredibly unique. I grew up with a neighborhood full of huge Irish Catholic families. Everyone was drunk at the pubs on Saturday night and praying for forgiveness Sunday morning. This place is way too safe to be like any place I grew up.”
“It made you pretty tough.”
“No choice.” Junie shrugged and pulled a stool out for herself at the bar. Hugo didn’t skip a beat, sliding in next to her. “Two Guinnesses,” Junie called out to the bartender.
“I guess it’s fair. I ordered for you last night. You order for me tonight.” Hugo scanned the menu the bartender handed him but put it down quickly and turned his attention back to her.
The bartender was back with their drinks. “I’m Aden, let me know what else you need.” He hardly looked at them, his eyes fixed on the television in the corner of the small pub. He was off in that direction again before they could ask for anything else.
“So this place represents you?” Hugo eyed her as though she was a mythical creature and he was lucky to get a chance to see her.
“Sure. I certainly feel more at home here than the place we ate at last night.” His ease in this place was utterly intoxicating, adding to his already sensual appeal. Somehow at night, at these little get-togethers, Junie could divorce herself from the reality of the day. Hugo transformed from a man she was appealing to for help to change the world and her life, into a man she was desperate to strip down and behold.
“There will be a hell of a lot less silverware here.” Junie took a long sip of her dark beer and felt her shoulders start to relax. Aden, the bartender, was a ginger as well. There were so few redheads out in the world that when you found one there would be a secret little nod between you.
“I probably led you to believe I’m pretentious and eat at places like that all the time. That’s not the case. I’m always up for a little pub. This one looks pretty damn authentic.” A roar of anger rolled across the room from a gang of men who were staring at the television.
“Football,” Junie explained.
“Soccer.”
“Do we have to launch into the debate about American football versus the worldwide love of real football?”
“We don’t.” Hugo drank his beer with a smile. “I’m guessing they’re watching the Irish team?”
“They are. The boys in green. I’m a little bit of a fanatic myself.” She leaned back to get a better view of the television as the group of men erupted angrily again.
“It doesn’t seem like it’s going well.”
“They’re playing Denmark. See those two guys over there at the bar. They’re wearing the wrong jerseys. That’s not going to go well. You don’t come to an Irish pub wearing the other team’s jerseys. Not during the playoffs.”
“So we’re getting dinner and a show. I like it.”
“I know that’s not what we came here for,” Junie said sheepishly, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“What did we come here for?” Hugo asked, subtly licking his lower lip as he gave her a smoldering stare.
“You tell me.” She wasn’t going to crack first. There was a sizzling tension between them. It was growing by the second. But she wasn’t going to make it a reality by talking about it. The line was drawn in the sand. If he wanted her, he’d have to cross it.
“That dress is dangerous.” Hugo leaned in, cutting the distance between them in half. His cologne wafted to her and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Her body began to tingle with excitement. “There is absolutely no way you and I should mix business and pleasure. You should not leave here tonight and come back to my room. I should absolutely not dip into the massage oil from the spa to rub you down from head to toe. The music shouldn’t be soft. The bath should not be run. You should not be in my bed. Or on my desk. Or in my shower.”
Her lips parted as she drew in a quick, raspy breath, feeling a bolt of lightning heat her. “You’re probably right.” It wasn’t easy to muster the words and catch her breath. But the line in the sand had been crossed now. It was on. “It would be a really bad idea for me to slip out of this dress. To rip the buttons off that shirt. To part my . . .”
“You two ready to order?” Aden interrupted with all the impact of a pin popping a balloon. His eyes were still darting back toward the television as he gave them half his attention. He looked a lot like one of Junie’s younger brothers, right down to the little gap between his front teeth. Breaking up a moment with a guy was also a sport for her brothers. Aden here was perfectly playing the part. It was like being at home.
Hugo groaned and leaned back onto his own stool, not able to hold back his disappointment.
Junie gathered herself and tried to cover her excited breasts with one arm as she ordered. Aden’s grin was crooked and knowing, as he seemed to figure out what he’d interrupted. There was a little chuckle as he walked away to place their order.
“You were saying?” Hugo raised a sexy eyebrow her way, but they both just laughed. The moment had passed.
“We really would be foolish to do anything.” Junie straightened her back and tried to look serious. “There is nothing that complicates a situation more than sex.”
“Who said anything about sex?” Hugo said, pretending to be offended by her scandalous proposition. “Miss O’Malley, please have some self-control.”
“You started this!” Junie slapped a hand to his rigid muscular bicep, which only heightened her desire for him.
“And you jumped right in. I like that.” He reached for a lock of her hair and spun it around his finger. “We’re playing a dangerous game here.”
The crowd behind them roared again and this time Junie jumped, her nerves raw and tingling with excitement. Hugo braced her shoulder with his large hand and squeezed gently.
“Easy,” he whispered. “You’re going to jump o
ut of your chair and land in my lap.”
“And wouldn’t that be terrible.”
They locked eyes, wordless promises of pleasure to come passing between them. The moment seemed like it would never end, like neither of them would ever look away. But the busy pub was full of interruptions. The game had gone to commercial and a few people in the corner had dispersed. A small herd was heading their way. It was a bump to Hugo’s back that finally broke the stare.
“Sorry, Mexico isn’t playing Fuuutball tonight hombre.” A tall freckle-faced man with sandy blond hair slapped a hand on Hugo’s shoulder. It wasn’t one of those friendly wallops guys often did. It was intentionally hard and intrusive.
“That’s all right.” Hugo spun his body, snapping the man’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m from California. I like the Oakland Raiders like a normal American.”
“Hugo.” Junie made a move to stand, but he’d planted a hand on her thigh. A move that a moment ago would have had her pulsing with pleasure. Now it was just an act to make her stay put. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. These were drunk Irish soccer fans whose team was losing.
“Now a pretty Irish lass like you should be sitting with us watching the game.” The man’s wide grin and beady eyes sent Junie’s skin crawling. She’d been dealing with men like this her whole life. What Hugo didn’t realize was she was fully prepared to shut this down, if he’d get out of the way and let her.
Hugo positioned his body between the man and Junie. “We’re fine where we are. Why don’t you head back to your little sausage party over there? Don’t let your knuckles drag on the bar floor too long on your way back.”
“Oooh.” The man turned around to a few of his friends who had gathered and laughed as though he was thoroughly unimpressed. “José here has jokes.”
Aden threw his rag over his shoulder and shook his head. He wasn’t a big guy, but judging by his job choice he could probably deal with a bunch of drunks pretty well. The scar over his eye and his red knuckles were the telltale signs of a scrapper. “Move on fellas. The games back on. You start another fight in here and you know the owner won’t have you back.”
“I’m not starting a fight. This guy here has a problem.” The man leaned in closer to Hugo and challenged him to do something. Anything that would warrant a good beatdown. “He’s mad his lady here would rather sit with us.”
Junie finally saw her opportunity. “He’s right. I would rather sit with them.” Every eye moved to her as she hopped to her feet. It was Hugo’s expression that made this moment even sweeter. She’d caught them all off guard. “Just like I love getting poison ivy from head to toe. I’d like to sit with them the same way I LOVE getting my wisdom teeth pulled without any anesthesia. Sitting with them would be as good as that time I fell asleep on the beach and my Irish ass got second-degree sunburn.” There was dead silence until Hugo’s stunned face transitioned into a wry smirk with a tiny chuckle. The group of men went quickly from excited to full-on pissed off.
“Cancel our order.” Hugo pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and laid down more than enough to cover their two beers. With some real swagger he slid a hand over Junie’s shoulder and headed for the door.
“You fucking piece of shit. Don’t turn your back on me.”
Junie knew in that moment it was too late. There was no walking out unscathed. She turned instinctively, hands up ready for what she knew was coming. A beer bottle whistled toward them and she swatted it away with her bag, sending it smashing to the sticky floor. It was a ninja like reflex acquired from a childhood filled with brothers. You either moved quickly or you got hit with something. A football, a shoe, a donut. Things were always flying around their three-bedroom, rundown house.
Junie propped a fist on her hip. The other hand was still clutched to her bag ready for any other flying objects. “You fuckwads try that again and I’ll stop playing nice. I’m from Southie. One call back there and five of my brothers would be on a flight down here hunting your asses and snapping your necks.”
One of the men leaned to his friend with a devilish smile. “We could do a hell of a lot of damage before her brothers could get here. That tight ass of hers might need a little punishing.”
Hugo methodically unbuttoned the sleeves of his crisp white shirt and rolled them up. He looked completely unfazed by their threats. “Last time my dry cleaner had to get some guy’s blood out of this shirt she was not happy. When I bust your face open try to bleed that way.” He pointed toward the back of the bar, and Junie could feel the tension building dangerously high. There was no getting out of this now. It was on.
“We need to go,” she whispered as she touched his arm, but he shook her off.
“Go outside, Junie. I’ve got to talk to these guys about how to treat a lady. Apparently they’ve never been around any. I guess that happens when you move in packs and just grunt at the TV.”
“Boys,” Aden had the phone pressed to his ear, “the cops said they’re happy to come down here and throw all your asses in jail. Can you afford bail this week, Smitty?”
“I’d have plenty of time to beat this hombre into the ground and be on my way before they can get here.” He cracked his knuckles and moved in a little closer.
“There are four of them.” Junie tugged on his arm but he didn’t budge. “They’re drunk. Let’s just go.”
“Junie, you should go outside.” Hugo didn’t even spare her a glance as he nudged her back a few steps. “Aden, let me know what their tab is. I’d like to pay it. When I’m done they won’t be able to count the pennies in their pockets anymore.”
A humorous laugh came from the guy who must be Smitty. The ringleader. The troublemaker who these other guys seemed to follow blindly.
But Smitty wasn’t the problem. There is always a Smitty. It was Junie who walked Hugo right into this trap. Of course there would be drunken assholes here. Of course they’d notice he wasn’t exactly pasty and freckled. She’d been an idiot, and now Hugo was going to pay for that all over some pride. They’d had a chance to leave and they’d missed the opportunity.
“All right then, brother,” Aden said as he slapped his towel down on the bar. He was around it and at Hugo’s side as he rolled up his own sleeves. “Let’s make this a little bit more of a fair fight then.”
“What?” Hugo asked, eyeing the bartender skeptically. “This isn’t your fight. I got this.”
Aden twisted his face up as he considered this. “Maybe you do, but I’ve been wanting to deck these guys for weeks.”
“Fair enough.” Hugo shrugged and turned his body to the side, ready for whatever these guys could do.
Aden lowered his voice. “I’ll take the two in the back. You get Smitty, the big guy with the bigger mouth and his little runt of a cousin they call Stoop. He bites though, so if you don’t have your shots up to date stay clear of his mouth. Try not to break any chairs. That shit comes out of my pay.”
Before Hugo could let him know he got it, everything exploded. The men rushed Hugo and Aden with sloppy drunken fists flying.
There was no way in hell Junie wasn’t at least going to try to even this fight for him. If these guys really got the jump on Hugo she’d have to arm herself with a pool stick and knock a few teeth out. Just like that time she and Val had to handle a group of drunken teenagers who’d snuck in with fake IDs back home.
There was a lot she knew about bar fights and Irish men. She took odd comfort in the fact that even if she got a good whack at them, they’d never take a swing at her. These boys would have been raised to never hit a woman. In their own twisted way, inviting her over to watch with them was their way of protecting her. But now they were completely in the wrong, the booze twisting their logic.
She lunged for a pool stick just as the bartender flung one guy over his shoulder. It was a classic bar fight move. Use the man’s own momentum and a well-timed dodge to send him flying. It was a flurry of fists and grunts as they clashed. Hugo caught one fist to the chin
but it didn’t seem to slow him down. The whole thing only lasted a few minutes before the sound of sirens flooded the small pub. The bleeding mob of soccer fans clamored to their feet and headed for the door, shoving each other out of the way to be first.
Aden wiped a little blood from his split lip and called after them. “Smitty, you better be back here to pay your tab tonight. I’m not fucking around.”
Hugo pushed his messed up hair back off his forehead and straightened the collar of his shirt. He was basically unscathed besides a red mark on his jaw that likely wouldn’t turn into much of a bruise. “You might want to put the pool stick down before the cops get here.” He winked at Junie and gestured to the stick still clutched in her hand. “I do appreciate you having my back, but I would have liked it better if I knew you were safe outside.”
“We need to go.” Junie tugged at him frantically, as sirens got even closer.
“I’m an executive at West Oil having dinner with my sweet friend. Do I look like I’m causing any trouble?” Hugo rolled his sleeves back down and buttoned them as casually as he might when getting dressed in the morning. “I’m hungry. Can you put that order back in?”
“Will do, pal,” Aden said coolly as he shook the ache out of his hand.
“Thanks for getting in on that.” Hugo slid back onto his stool and rubbed at his knuckles as though they were sore. “I wasn’t expecting anything like that. You have to do that often?
Aden poured them a couple more beers and slid them to Hugo. “I don’t like a fight when a guy is outnumbered. I had a buddy who got jumped outside of a place like this and he didn’t make it. It pisses me off when people do that shit like a pack of dogs. You looked like you could have taken them all. I doubted you, but man you’ve got some skills. You do martial arts or something?”
“Some boxing. A little cage fighting here and there when I’m feeling like I need to blow off some steam.” Hugo drank half the beer down and pulled Junie’s stool out, patting it for her to sit.
Stormy Attraction Page 7
