Risk It All (MacAteer Brothers Book 4)

by ML Nystrom

  Please don’t let me have fucked this up!

  My hands shook as I stood on my deck and stared out into the sea of city lights. I took another hit off the cigarette and roughly coughed at the caustic smoke filling my lungs. If Gordon came up and caught me, he’d have an absolute conniption. I wouldn’t blame him as I hadn’t had a cigarette in over four years, and the pack I pulled this one from was at least that old.

  Fuck, why did I do that? I stubbed the white stick that was left and took a long drink of water. I thought about bringing a bottle of booze up here, but I didn’t want to go down that route. Drinking myself into oblivion had happened more than once in my life, but it was not a habit I wanted to repeat if I could help it. Both times, I’d felt like shit the day after and neither time had solved my problem.

  Patrick kissed me.

  I could still feel the imprint of his mouth on mine, his tongue demanding entry, his taste, the texture of his lips, the masterful way he molded mine to fit. I shuddered and my belly soared on wings of fire at the memory.

  Fuck, get it together, Sloane!

  Yes, Patrick MacAteer was a handsome man and had such a charismatic aura around him that people were drawn in. The good looks, fun attitude, and devil-may-care-bad-boy vibe appealed to lots of women, but I should have been immune to all of that. Apparently I wasn’t.

  I was very aware that Patrick didn’t ascribe to the one-woman man idea. If the bar talk had any merit, he’d had several hookups in the past couple months, and I vowed a long time ago I would not be another notch on someone’s bedpost. Not again. Still, every night when he made his grand entry, I got warm fuzzies that he was here. I loved his smiles as I showed him a new drink recipe, and his enthusiasm in being behind the bar with me. I’d made up my mind that I could be satisfied with those few pieces of him that were mine that I didn’t have to share, but after he kissed me tonight, would that be enough?

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my cheeks. I gave up trying to keep them in since no one was around to see me.

  Chapter Seven

  Patrick showed up at the bar around lunch time the next day.

  “Sloane?”

  The voice I didn’t really want to hear came from the back entrance where we parked our cars. I’d given Patrick the code so he could take out the trash and not get stuck outside. He’d have to walk the length of the alley to get back to the bar. Now I regretted that decision as he walked in from the office to where I sat.

  I’d run the reports from last night and instead of going back up to my empty apartment, I decided to stay in the empty bar and take care of the paperwork. My back stiffened, and I looked at the man who occupied my dreams. He wore works jeans—white with age and stained with paint. His T-shirt had seen better days as well and sported small tears and more stains. He had twisted his long hair in a braid and pulled it back in a Viking man-bun. He looked hot and not due to the sheen of sweat covering him from the budding summer heat. God, did I have to do this? I was so not ready to face him.

  “Hi, Patrick. I… um… didn’t expect you.”

  He set a white bag on the counter from a local sandwich shop. “I know. I’m on a lunch break and figured I’d come see you. Apologize and clear the air.”

  “Apologize?”

  His green eyes looked dull as he took a stool close to me and sat down. “Things got out of hand last night and I went overboard. I should not have grabbed you like that and I’m sorry.”

  Of all the possibilities, this one I expected the least. I stayed silent while he continued to talk.

  “You have every right to ban my ass, and if you do, I’ll understand. I hope you won’t, though. I can’t tell you why, but at the end of a workday, no matter if it’s a good day or a shit one, I look forward to being here. I love walking in and hearing people call my name. I love hearing the karaoke shit. I get a real kick out of mixing drinks for people and striving for the perfect Guinness pour.”

  I could have been a raging bitch and told his ass off, but it would be fake. The truth was every night when he showed up, a little thrill ran through me when he announced his booming entry. If he had any inkling of that, he’d probably run for the hills. I’d end up crumpled into a fetal ball and cry over lost crushes. Ignoring the problem meant it wasn’t really there, right?

  Life still had only one direction. Forward. And I had to keep moving. I snatched open the bag and pulled out a paper-wrapped sandwich. “I don’t do pickle spears. It’s yours if you want it.”

  His face split into a shit-eating grin.

  “Oh, yes, love. I want it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Patrick came in nightly since “the night of the kiss” and his follow-up day visit. His behavior seemed subdued, but damned if he didn’t pay more attention to me. He often called in dinner orders and badgered me until I went into the office to eat. He made sure he did the heavy lifting. “Gotta keep up my pretty figure, sweetheart.” Then he’d flex his rounded bicep and his harem sighed.

  Yeah, I did too a little.

  Gordon thought it was hilarious that he made a big deal of hovering around me when Claudio appeared. I tripped over him twice one night and yelled at him to find both feet or get out of my way. Instead, he put that panty-melting grin on his face and swept me up to dance with him. “We should do a Dancing with the Stars kinda thing here sometime. People would love it!”

  I gave in and danced with him to the amusement of my bar people.

  This afternoon, I sat in the office and listen to Patrick and Angus as they worked to pull down the rotten shelves and put in new ones. It was amazing to see how they worked together in the small space.

  “Third shelf mount needs to come down about two inches. Got an outlet back here and don’t need to block it.”

  “Head space still good with a two-inch relief?”

  “Yep. Looks good. Mark it and cut.”

  I didn’t understand half of what they said, but the shelves they designed were stronger and sturdier than the last crude set, and also made better use of the space. I could see why they had so many jobs lined up. If all the MacAteer brothers worked this well together, I put money down they’d have a castle complete with turrets and a moat built in a week or two.

  Gordon and Cammie came down with little Courtney. They were taking a trip over to the Botanical Gardens near the university campus. The baby’s light blonde curls she got from her Mom, but her bright blue eyes were all Gordon. She chortled with glee when she spotted me.

  “Headin’ out for a while, sis. Bring back food?”

  “No thanks. I’ll get something later. I need to finish the paperwork before the accountant gets here.”

  “Jeez, that’s today?”

  “Yep. Leave the front door open for her, will ya?”

  “Sure thing. Be back in a couple of hours.”

  I nodded and waved a hand over my head as I clicked away with the mouse. The recent uptick in tourism showed in the profits, while expenses remained level. This was good news and perhaps it was time to think about Gordon’s idea of opening a restaurant along with the pub. For the longest time, I’d nixed the idea as I didn’t want to gamble on what we’d built already, but I’d been thinking about it more and more. If anything, I’d learned life had no guarantees and sometimes you had to roll the dice and take a chance. Maybe it was time. I scratched a few numbers down in speculation. If we took out a business loan against the building instead of using all our savings, we could possibly make it happen. It would triple my workload of course, as Gordon didn’t care about the intricacies of stocking toilet paper, regular health inspections, and alcohol permits, but this was his pet project. One he’s been wanting to start for years and I knew once he committed himself, he’d work hard to make it succeed. Taking out a loan could be risky, but Gordon wanted this expansion badly. He and Cammie, both had stood behind me when I needed them both. It was time for me to return that support.

  I sat back in the booth and took a big sw
ig of the diet soda I shot from the soda gun. A piece of ice cube slipped into my mouth and I crunched it while thinking. What if, instead of reconfiguring the bottom floor space, we made the second floor into the restaurant? The open space was bigger than my apartment so plenty of room existed already. Construction could happen and the bar not have to close at all which meant profits should stay steady. Cammie had put in a top-notch kitchen closer to what she used at her work. They really wanted to move and get settled somewhere before Courtney started kindergarten. Once that timeline got figured out, maybe it wouldn’t take too much to get the space ready.

  The muted screech of a wood saw pierced my daytime speculations. Patrick and his brothers knew plenty about building and renovating. Hell, the family business had been called Irish Pub Builders when their father ran it. Patrick would give me honest answers and fair pricing if Gordon and I decided to pull the trigger on this new business venture. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.

  Gallaghers’s Bar and Grill. Gallaghers’s Pub and Grill. Gallaghers’s Irish Pub and Restaurant.

  I scribbled some names in the margin of a legal pad I kept in case the accountant needed paper. My attention was so engrossed that a voice right behind me sent me three feet in the air and threw my heart into arrhythmia.

  “Hey, Sloane. Didn’t mean to scare you. The door was open, so I thought I’d come in and see you with no one else around to interrupt.”

  Claudio slid into the booth opposite me and moved my computer to the side leaving no barrier between us. I picked up my drink to cover my shock and get my nerves calmed. “What are you doing here?”

  He gave a familiar one-sided shrug and leaned over his forearms on the table. “Had a gig just down the street. Pictures to make ad copy for a coffee shop that has a new dog run in the back. Really cool place. We should go sometime. I remember you loved your coffee in the morning.”

  That word knife slid between my ribs with perfect precision. Unexpected pain blossomed in my chest as I recalled how he used to make me coffee and bring it to me in bed every morning. More often than not, he tumbled me back into the sheets and made love to me. So much time had passed that it surprised me how much the memory hurt. “I don’t drink as much coffee as I used to.”

  “Oh. Is that because of—”

  “No, I just don’t drink that much coffee anymore.”

  “Okay.” His eyes couldn’t meet mine for very long. They darted around the room, taking in the furnishings as if he’d never seen them before. “Business going good?”

  “Yes.” I knew my short, clipped answers were rude and my mom would have popped the back of my head already if she were here to listen to me. I couldn’t help it. It bugged the snot out of me that I still found Claudio to be attractive, but my trust in him had been so shattered, I couldn’t stand to look at him. “I’m not clear why you’re here. It’s not to ask me out as that time has long gone and I’m sure it’s not to check on how well the pub is doing.”

  He cleared his throat. “I came to apologize about how things ended between us. It’s been eating me alive ever since I moved back to town.”

  “How things ended between us? You texted me as you were on your way out of town for that cruise ship gig.”

  “Yes, I did. It was a dick move to make.”

  “Michelle, my maid of honor, took off with you. Still together?”

  He wrinkled his nose and scratched the tip with one finger. I recognized his tell for when he got irritated. “We went our separate ways last year. She stayed with the ships and I came home.”

  And moved back in with your parents ’cause you had nowhere else to go. “I do not see why that bothers you now instead of four years ago.”

  “Look, Sloane I was having a rough time too, and—”

  My temper flared. “Rough time? You were having a rough time? I was at the lowest point of my fucking life and you left me. Now you want to apologize to make yourself feel better? I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, but I don’t want any part of it.”

  “Sloane—”

  A white bag suddenly plunked down on the table, next to the pile of papers. “Move those will ya, sweetheart? Angus ran out and brought us burgers from that farm place a few streets over. Don’t want to get grease all over them.”

  He whipped his dusty T-shirt over his head. “Damn, it’s hotter than Satan’s toenails back there. First chance I get, I’m gonna check the ductwork. Something’s not right about it. Scooch over, love.”

  My mouth dried up at the sight of Patrick’s sweaty chest and perfect delineated abs. His physique didn’t come from the gym, but his daily construction workout. A smattering of hair decorated his round pecs, and small gold bars pierced both nipples. I could see the tattoo of a green bowler hat just below his flat navel. A tattoo? I wondered what the rest of it looked like.

  He plopped down next to me and took a big swallow of my diet soda before opening the bag. “Got your favorite one with the egg on top and sweet potato fries. Angus is in the back cleaning up and will be here in a bit.”

  Patrick’s position placed his arm and leg tight against my side and I believed it was deliberate because of the other man’s presence. “Hey, Clarence. Long time, man. Sorry, I didn’t know you were here, or I’d have ordered something for you. Mind if we eat in front of you?”

  “Claudio” came the tight-lipped reply. He wrinkled his nose and scratched the tip again.

  Patrick slapped a hand to his forehead. “Right, right, I’m sorry. I’m really bad with names.”

  He unloaded the bag and Angus came from behind the bar with several water bottles in his hands. “Shelves are done, but there’s a spot on the floor close to the walk-in that’s buckling a bit. Best get it fixed before it goes through to the sub-flooring. Next week good for that?”

  Patrick took a huge bite of his burger. “Owen said the Carr job will take till Thursday. Friday’s open. That good for you, baby?”

  “Um… yeah.”

  “Cool. We’ll get it on the calendar. What ’cha got there, love?” He pressed in closer and slung his free arm around my shoulders.

  The sudden move flustered me, and I cleared my throat before answering, “Just some sketches about a possible project. Gordon’s been wanting to explore opening a restaurant to go with the pub, and I’m thinking about where to put it. Like what it would take for the second floor of the building to be converted.”

  He bit into a potato wedge and held it up to feed me the rest. “Eat, baby.”

  Baby? I opened my mouth and ate from Patrick’s hand. Who knows why I did it? Maybe just to fuck with Claudio. He scratched his nose again.

  Patrick poked at the drawing, pointedly ignoring the fuming man across from us. “Have to look up the regs for fire safety shit. Probably need different outlets with grounding breakers. Plumbing good for bathrooms?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Angus answered, “We’ll go up and take a quick look if that’s okay with Gordon.”

  Apparently both brothers were of the same mind to ignore the third man at the table. Claudio rose to leave. “Sorry to bother you, Sloane. We’ll finish this conversation another time.”

  Patrick answered back, “Yeah, sorry, man, but you know how it is. We’re gonna be pretty busy later. Lots to do. See you soon, yeah?”

  Why did I feel like a toy between two toddlers?

  Claudio scratched his nose. “I got it.” He stiffly walked out the door.

  Patrick pushed a cardboard box towards me, popped the top and stole a sweet potato fry. “Get started on that, sweetheart. Angus and I have one more job this afternoon and we need time to take some measurements.”

  “What just happened?”

  He looked at me with the most innocent expression he could muster. “We brought food, ‘cause I bet you haven’t eaten decent today, and we’re gonna look at your space upstairs. Did I miss something?”

  I sighed and let it go. The burger smelled great and tasted even
better. “Not really.”

  “That guy bother you?”

  “No. Not for a long time.”

  Patrick looked at my face for a long moment. “Good. Now what kind of floor is in the apartment?”

  “You cut this one a half inch too short, boy-o. You okay?”

  Patrick stopped hammering a framing brace and glanced over at Angus. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “You been burnin’ a lot of hours volunteering at the pub. Maybe you need to cut back a little and get your head in the game here. Tired men have more accidents.”

  “Let’s just get this done, brother.”

  The two men continued working on the half-assembled pergola. They were on a job site booked through Owen. The woman of the house didn’t know squat about what it was; she just liked the name and wanted one on her deck. She’d come out several times to bring them lemonade and to ogle the shirtless men as they worked.

  “Ms. Carr’s been giving you the eye all afternoon. You gonna hit that?”

  Patrick pulled a scrap two-by-four and measured another brace to replace the short one. “Nah. Go ahead if you want.”

  Angus shook his head. “Not my type.”

  Divorced with too much money to spend and obviously horny. Since when was a woman like that not Angus’s type? “Maybe I should ask if you’re okay, brother?”

  Angus drilled a pilot hole for one of the top beams. “I’m as good as you are.”

  “Been seeing Rhyleigh?”

  “Some.”

  “Like her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fuck, man, you sound like Owen with all the one-word answers. What’s going on with you, bro?”

  Angus put down the drill. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About life and future and shit like that. We’ve been side by side for our whole lives and had a lot of good times, but I’m feeling like I need to make some changes. Ones that are only for me. I don’t want to piss you off or hurt your feelings, but I’ve been considering getting my own place. Maybe it’s time to be Patrick and Angus, instead of Patrick-n-Angus. Make sense?”