The Bartender’s Daughter
by
Isabelle Flynn
Barefoot Books
Copyright © 2013, Isabelle Flynn
Flynn, Isabelle
The Bartender’s Daughter
Media > Books > Fiction > Romance Novels
Category/Tags: Contemporary romance, Small Town, Reunited Lovers, Romance, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Beach Reads, Beach Romance, Coastal Romance
Digital ISBN: 978-1-62237-203-4
Digital Release: November, 2013
Editor by Ayla O’Donovan
Cover Art Design by www.Calliope-Designs.com
Stock Art by istockphotos.com
All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
This edition is published by agreement with Turquoise Morning Press, a division of Turquoise Morning, LLC, PO Box 43958, Louisville, KY 40253-0958.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
ABOUT ISABELLE FLYNN
TURQUOISE MORNING PRESS
DEDICATION
To my critique group of chatters, thank you for the support and the endless supply of patience in answering my never-ending questions. I appreciate every bit of feedback I’ve received.
Especially to Ayla for believing in me and giving me that final push.
To my father, for instilling in me a deep and unending love of the ocean.
To my mother, for teaching me that books are our friends. You’ve been my rock. Thank you.
To my husband, for showing me that true love exists. I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth. As you already know.
To my sons, Drew and Alex, and my daughter, Julianna, I love you, love you, love you ’cause I love you, love you, love you.
THE BARTENDER’S DAUGHTER
When Sam’s father dies, she inherits more than a broken down, small town bar. A second chance at love is on the line, but only if Sam can get past the lies and deception she left behind two years ago.
Big city transplant, Sam Pierce, returned home to Oldport, Rhode Island, for a brief visit after her father’s death. Unexpectedly inheriting half of his bar has her confronting the past and the mistakes she left behind when she ran away two years ago.
Lee Stone, former rich boy, has transformed himself into a successful business owner. His latest acquisition is more than just another business to add to his portfolio. A chance at redemption and a final reckoning with his estranged wife is on the line. All he has to do is convince Sam that there’s more to him than the weight of his wallet or the lies in their past.
Chapter One
The smell of old cigarette smoke, fried seafood, and spilled beer kept Samantha Pierce from falling apart. The wrong kind of smells for a memorial and the only thing holding her together in front of her father’s mourners. A bar wasn’t exactly the most appropriate setting, but that’s not what Ray Pierce thought. Her father had documented his last wishes in minute detail, from the words on his gravestone to the music blaring from the archaic jukebox in the corner. They were serenaded by Frank Sinatra as he sang about doing things his way. Just like Frank, she hoped her father had no regrets about the way life had turned out.
A leathery hand shook hers as another one of her father’s old fishing buddies approached her in line. A quick kiss on the cheek and more of the same words she’d been saying for the last two hours. Thank you for coming. My father was a very special man. No, I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town.
Sam kept her head high as more people streamed in through the door. She rocked back on her heels and looked over the room. All evening she tried to keep her gaze from straying over to the bar and the man doling out free drinks in the same spot he’d been in two years ago when she left Oldport. One major change though. Lee wore a tasteful, designer suit instead of the faded black T-shirt and jeans he’d worn back then.
Her sister leaned over during the break in music. “You still can’t keep your eyes off of him, can you?”
Her voice grated Sam’s already thin nerves. There was no way she’d let Michelle get to her today. She adjusted the borrowed black sheath dress before looking up at her older sister. “Who?”
“Lee. I can’t blame you.” Michelle glanced at the bartender and gave him a once over. “He’s even better looking now than he was back then.”
She refused to acknowledge her sister’s comments as another mourner approached. Sam rolled her shoulders back to loosen some of the tension keeping her strung so tight. Michelle’s tears started again as the man handed her a handkerchief. Men had been offering them to her all afternoon. A laugh bubbled to the surface as she watched Michelle stash another one in her little black bag. There had to be five in there already. Two months ago, she’d noticed the same thing at her father’s funeral. Men falling all over themselves to console her. Even grieving, the flirt wouldn’t let a prime opportunity pass her by.
The framed photo on the wall caught her attention. Her father’s smile beamed at her ten-year-old self as she held up a softball and glove. God, she’d hated the game, but she played it faithfully through high school because of that smile and the pride behind it. A tear ran down her face. Hadn’t they all been cried out two months ago when she first got the call that her father was in the hospital? She inhaled a deep breath, letting the familiar smells soothe her. It wasn’t enough to keep the memories away or to stop an emotional undertow from pulling her under. She gave little thought to her sister or the mourners surrounding them and walked away.
A wall of humid night air hit her as she pushed through the front doors. She tried to keep her grief in. Tried to be strong and unemotional through all of it. She hated this bar and she loved it too. The starry New England sky offered no guidance, no road map for handling her father’s death or the gut-wrenching anger that engulfed her.
She bit down on her lip, the sharp pain not enough to keep the tears from streaming down her face. She slid down to sit on the wooden bench, left for smokers or wayward daughters unable to grieve their fathers.
The reasons she left jumbled together leaving her feeling guilty and regretful. She could have stayed. Her father would have been happy and she would have known when he first became sick. Her happiness for his. A worthy sacrifice. God knows she wasn’t going to find her own happiness here. If nothing else, she could have come back for a visit.
She didn’t look up when the door beside her opened. Only prayed it wasn’t Michelle or Lee. The hint of expensive cologne teased her senses and she knew she wasn’t lucky enough to avoid him any longer. Her heart raced but she kept her face down, not wanting to look at him until she had no choice.
“I should have known I’d find you hiding outside.”
Two years and he still had the power to send her mind and body reeling. His voice was too smooth, too c
alm for the storm about to break loose inside her.
She knew she would have to speak to him eventually. He was the son Ray Pierce had always wanted and one of the last people she wanted to see today.
“Lee.” Even his name caused her stomach to churn. There was a time it meant so much more. Now it just brought memories of disappointment and disillusionment.
“Sam.”
One word from him and she was pushing back her shoulders and notching up her chin.
Grief could be controlled but anger had a way of rising to the top. She pulled herself back as heat invaded her face. If she could deal with seeing her biggest mistake two months ago at her father’s small funeral, she could deal with him now.
She looked down at her lap and smoothed out the little folds in the fabric. She tried to pull herself together, but a few seconds of delay could never prepare her for the onslaught of Lee’s icy blue stare. Quiet and observant. Two of the reasons she had loved him so much. Of course, she’d also thought of him as trustworthy and reliable. Sam had been wrong, very wrong about him.
She drew in a breath and tilted her head up at him. He looked different but so much the same. His eyes scrutinized her as they roamed over the black dress. His brown hair was longer than the crew cut he once wore. One lock fell over his forehead, giving him a tousled, just out of bed look, contradicting the black suit he wore. He was too comfortable, too much the man-in-control, for a bartender attending his boss’ memorial. Like she had for the last two years, she wondered what he’d been doing with his life.
“Your sister was asking for you. Are you coming back in or should I tell her that you’ve decided to leave?”
“I’m coming. Just needed some fresh air.” And there she was explaining herself to him. She stood but the hem of the black jersey dress caught on the wooden bench. She attempted to unhook the pull without damaging it further. The dress was a loan from her roommate’s closet and worth more than two weeks of her pay.
“No one cares about the way you look, Sam. They’re here to honor your father.”
The words hit her with another rush of anger. He had no reason to take that tone with her. “Funny how you’re worried about honoring my father now. Didn’t seem to be a concern of yours while he was still living.”
His hand reached out and grabbed her elbow, pulling her close. “This is not the time, Sam.” He nodded toward a group of people heading their way.
More people here to honor her father or drink a few free beers. Either way, she had no plans on being the evening’s entertainment. She bit back a curse. She hadn’t come home to her father’s memorial to embarrass herself or his memory.
Sam took a step to the side and shrugged off his grip, giving the group room to enter the front door. That one step brought her too close to Lee. She kept herself rigid and hoped she only imagined the heat of his body against her side. He’d still have the power to make her burn if she let him.
As the door slammed behind them, Sam turned back to Lee. “I don’t need you to tell me how to act. Just leave me alone and we won’t have to talk again before I leave.”
“Oh, Sam. It’s not going to be that easy.” He let go of her arm and she took the opportunity to return to the receiving line and away from him.
****
“You look like you’re going to hit her over the head and drag her back to your cave. Either for dinner or—”
Lee looked up from the tap to see a friendly face standing on the other side of the bar. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No, I don’t but I’m guessing that look is for the infamous Sam Pierce. I figured Ray’s daughter would be six feet tall, model beautiful, with the brains of a nuclear physicist. At least, that’s how he always described her.”
He wanted to brush Jake off but knew his friend had the tenacity of a bulldog and the ability to hammer any topic down until it submitted. “You met her at the funeral.”
“Yeah but that was different. I wasn’t paying attention, but now I am and you can’t tear your eyes away from her.”
“Leave it, Jake.” To his own ear, his voice was rough. This was not how he planned to handle Sam. Anger was expected. The need was not.
He looked down at the photos taped all over the outdated register. Sam at four, toddling around in her mother’s high heels. Sam at ten, on a bike with Ray by her side. Then there were those pictures that tortured him for the months he worked in the bar after she left, Sam smiling on top of the Empire State Building and then at the Statue of Liberty with her arm around her father’s shoulders.
Lee pulled down on the tap for too long as foam overflowed the pilsner glass and on to his hand.
“Good thing Ray isn’t here to see how rusty you’ve gotten. Look at the head on that thing.” Jake laughed before handing over a stack of cocktail napkins.
It wasn’t being out of practice that kept him from pouring a perfect head. It was Sam. He was distracted by her and the memories she inevitably brought up. He would never forget the Sam who could charm tips out of the surliest of drunks while cutting them off. She wasn’t the same Sam standing in front of him. Polished, perfect and completely changed. She held her head high, her shoulders back, as she greeted each one of her father’s friends. Lee noticed little things though, the tears that kept from spilling, the way she avoided looking too long at any one thing in the bar.
“She looks like her sister.” Jake’s eyes were back on Sam.
Side by side, Michelle and Sam looked like opposite sides of the same coin. Sam’s blond hair was long and pulled back into a bun while her sister’s brunette curls were kept in a short mass around her face. Their height was near identical, if not for the three-inch heels Michelle wore. Sam always downplayed her looks while Michelle made the most out of what nature gave her.
Lee was so absorbed with watching the two, he didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes lit up at the couple coming toward her. They looked completely out of place among the lower-middle class citizens of Oldport. He recognized Serena and Dylan St. James and watched as the siblings each hugged Sam. He loosened his grip on the tap and handed off another beer before stomping off to Ray’s office.
He returned twenty minutes later to find Sam alone by the bar, running her finger over one of the photos.
Lee cleared his throat before speaking. “He couldn’t stop talking about that trip and how you waited until a group of nuns passed by before you would hand over your camera.”
She smiled a little. “I knew they wouldn’t steal it.” She touched the photo one more time before turning to look up at him. “I know I screwed up. I should have visited him more often.”
He poured her usual, a seltzer, and dropped a slice of lime in it before pushing it over to her. “Why did you leave in the first place?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? No matter how much he promised himself he wouldn’t ask, he couldn’t stop himself.
“Because this wasn’t home any more. But that never had anything to do with him.”
Their fingers met around the glass and for a moment, he wanted to pull her closer. Shake some sense into her. Bring her back to the girl he knew. She pulled her hand away like he had burned her and he slid the glass to her side.
Something about that girl he remembered kept him rooted to the ground and continuing the conversation. “Ray was proud of you. He said you were happy in New York and that’s all he really wanted for you.”
She opened her mouth but closed it as soon as a hand landed on her shoulder. Lee gritted his teeth as he faced the man beside her.
“LJ, I never expected to see you here.” Dylan reached his hand over the bar. “How are you doing, man?”
Sam looked from Dylan to Lee and back again, her eyes crinkled in confusion. So she still didn’t know that he and Dylan knew each other? Good. He could only imagine her surprise when she found out he had more in common with her boyfriend than she could have imagined.
“Likewise. Other than losing
a good friend, I’m fine. I hope all’s well with your family.”
“My parents are the same as ever. They’re still at the club more than they’re home. You know Sam?”
Dylan turned his focus on Sam when Lee nodded.
“We’re old friends.” Lee watched as her cheeks turned red.
She didn’t resist when Dylan pulled her back into him. Lee clenched his jaw. It was confirmation of all the things her sister had said when she left. She finally found the cash cow she’d been dreaming of and had taken off to live the good life in the Big Apple. He walked away before he forgot the real reason they were gathered together in Ray’s bar, celebrating the life of a good friend and mentor. He wasn’t about to let old resentments get in the way of respecting the life of Ray Pierce.
****
Her father’s Old Spice cologne surrounded her. The dark paneling, the newspaper clippings, the faded beer advertisements pulled her back in time. How many hours had she spent in this office, doing her homework, reading a book, or just talking with her dad? There were years in her life that she spent more hours in this bar than she did at their house. This was home. If only she didn’t hate it and love it with the same passion.
The surface of the desk was worn, marred by decades in service to her father in this same spot. A flannel shirt hung on the back of his chair, his Patriots hat sat over the picture of her graduation from college, like he’d be back just before closing to grab his things. She picked up the book on the corner, one of her dad’s favorite authors. A page in the middle was dog-eared. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. It was so unfair that he’d never finish the damn book.
She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there before the door opened. There was only silence from the bar as her sister walked into the small room. Dylan and Serena had left over an hour ago and the rest of their guests must have gone while she hid out in the back.
The Bartender's Daughter Page 1
