Her Irish Boss: O'Keeley's Irish Pub: Book One

by Palmer Jones

  “I'd rather not clean up whatever is in these boxes stacked around us.” She shifted to the side, her hand touching hard muscle along his waist for balance.

  He hadn't released her shoulder. His fingers tightened.

  But she was stuck halfway under a shelf, her feet feeling like she was about to lose a game of Twister. “Without a light, I'm not sure how to untangle myself without the entire mountain of boxes crashing down on us.”

  Slowly, his hands slid down from her shoulders until they gripped her waist. “I'll pick you up,” he said, pulling her closer until their bodies touched for the first time.

  Neither one of them moved for a long second.

  His chest rose with a deep breath like he might use it to heft her out of the corner. But he didn't do anything.

  “Let me set the napkins down.” She tried to toss them toward the door, but they hit another box, and it fell. Along with two more. “Sorry. I'll clean it up.”

  “Hold onto my shoulders, and I'll pick you up and out.”

  She did as he asked but misjudged in the complete darkness. Her hands landed on the top of his chest, and since she'd already established her body didn't listen to her rational mind, they slid along his body until they gripped his shoulders.

  Again, he didn't move. If there had been any daylight, not an ounce of it would shine between the tight way they held onto each other. Her fingertips brushed across the back of his neck, loving the feel of his hair. In the dark, it didn't seem so wrong for him to hold her. No rules. No lines designating designer suits on one side and second-hand stores on the other.

  “Ready?” His voice was soft, deep.

  She was, but probably not for the same thing. She nodded and then rolled her eyes in the dark. “Yes.”

  He picked her up and turned, setting her down at his feet. His hands never strayed from her waist, but he didn't release her immediately. She threaded her fingers through the back of his hair. “Brogan?” His name sounded breathless from her lips.

  His hands didn't shift, but his thumbs skimmed along the bottom edge of her ribcage.

  She needed him to say something. Anything. What did he think of her? She'd practically latched onto him at this point.

  Did he think she did this to work her way up in the company or something? She half-laughed. Only if he was an idiot.

  “What's so funny?”

  “Do you think I did this on purpose?”

  “How would you have known I would come by and close the door?” His voice held a touch of suspicion that riled her up. He straightened and put a few inches between their bodies. The man didn't have a shred of humor in his personality, but she wouldn't let him get to her. Brogan needed something light and happy in his life.

  “If you really thought that, Brogan, then you're an idiot. I was making a joke.” His brothers seemed so happy. What happened to cause him to be so serious?

  “I'm not sure I like my employees calling me an idiot.”

  She skimmed her fingers along the side of his ribs.

  He jerked away, breaking their connection. “Stop that.” He tried to sound mad, but the laugh in his voice told her otherwise.

  “I was worried for a moment.”

  The door opened a second later. He reached up, adjusting the bar at the top, so it stayed open. His expression remained cautious. “Worried about what?”

  “That you weren't even ticklish.” She wiggled her fingers his direction. “I don't trust someone who isn't ticklish. A lack of a sense of humor I can work with.” It was big words, covering up her insecurity. Had he really thought she put herself in that situation to trap him? He tried to keep himself distant, but he looked just as nervous as she felt.

  Katie's face appeared in the doorway. “Did you find...whoa. What happened?”

  The floor was covered in paper straws from the boxes that fell in the dark.

  “I was clumsy as usual.”

  Katie shook her head and gave Brogan a wide berth when she came into the room. “I can help. Don't worry.”

  Brogan scowled.

  Selena returned the look, but with a little more exaggeration. She'd get the man to smile at some point. Laugh. Have a freaking good time.

  He stalked away.

  “Moody much?” Katie moved into the room, beginning to pick up the straws. “Of course someone, as put together like him, would be peeved to see straws all over the ground.”

  Selena had the wicked thought to dump the straws all over his desk to see if that pissed him off or made him laugh. Instead, she bent down and helped clean up her mess. She'd end up dying of sexual frustration instead of old age at this pace.

  6

  He'd hid in his office all morning, barely speaking to Selena and giving her nothing but busy work to do after their moment in the supply room. He couldn't do anything about the obvious attraction between them but keep his distance until he learned to control it. She'd caught him watching her the few times he'd left his office during her shift, so he avoided the entire situation.

  Holding her in the supply room, about killed him. When her fingers touched the back of his neck, and she said his name, he'd almost hauled her to her toes and kissed her. He'd tried to read the situation like his brother's suggested. But he couldn't. His doubts kept surfacing.

  With Katie's timing, reminding him of their precarious position, he was glad he'd remembered who he was. He was her employer.

  He didn't care what his brothers thought. Crissy had given him the ultimate lesson on female deception. Although he didn't think Selena was showing an interest only to lure him into a lawsuit, he couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk the restaurant. His brothers’ futures.

  And she thought the entire thing was a joke. The woman was a mess. He'd found her cell phone, again, sitting in the employee's break-room and caught Katie to give it to her before she left.

  Brogan looked over the reservation system, the evening hostess watching him suspiciously. His constant presence probably bothered every waiter or waitress on the floor, but he didn't care. He needed to be where the action was. He needed a distraction. And since Selena didn't work the night shift, he took it out on his employees.

  Being a perfectionist wasn't bad.

  “Mr. O'Keeley?” Cara asked as she fell in step beside him. Shift manager for his night employees, she was easy to spot with a bright, unnatural shade of red hair and nearly six feet tall. Unlike Lenny, Cara already had excellent leadership skills. “We've had three employees go homesick. I called in a few of the staff who work in the mornings.” She flipped the paper on her clipboard. “Katie, Selena, and Trey. Trey just arrived. Katie said something about having to help Selena, but then they'd both be here.”

  “Boss,” one of the kitchen workers began, tapping him on the shoulder. “We just had two cooks get sick.”

  A health epidemic on the night that Randy Simmons was due to arrive for another meal pushed Brogan's patience. And now he'd have his eyes on Selena to top it off.

  “Obviously, let's keep this low key. As you see employees, quietly tell them that the minute they start to feel ill, to let you know and leave the floor. I'll call Rian to help in the kitchen.”

  The young kid's eyes grew round. “Seriously?”

  “Am I ever not serious?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then go back and handle it the best you can until he gets here.”

  The kid turned around, as if in a daze, and walked back to the kitchen. Rian might be considered the quiet one, but he didn't have that reputation in the kitchen. The awards he'd won over the years preceded him. As well as his demand for excellence.

  Brogan pulled out his phone and dialed his brother's number. He answered after one ring. “Rian, we need you at the restaurant. Two of your kitchen staff have left sick. I have three sick on the floor. I'd hate to lose more and not have the manpower for Saturday night.”

  “On my way. I'll pull Cathal.”

  “Why?”

  “He can work the bar if n
othing else. See you in ten.” Rian hung up.

  Selena breezed through the door, Katie right behind her. Both with serious, game-faces on as they scanned the dining room. It instantly reminded him of another significant reason he couldn't cross the line. The business was better because of Selena.

  “Good,” Cara said. “They're here earlier than I thought. The Simmons party just arrived, too.”

  Brogan hadn't noticed, his eyes locked on Selena's pursed lips as she walked his direction. “Is the upstairs room ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Selena and Katie came to a stop in front of him. “Where do you want us,” Katie asked, looking between Brogan and Cara.

  “The Simmons party is back again.”

  Selena winced and looked away.

  “What is it?” Brogan had seen the tip reported from that night. With the apartment complex she lived in, surely, she needed the money.

  Katie, Cara, and Brogan all waited for Selena to answer. She shot an annoyed look in his direction. “Nothing.”

  “Something,” he answered. Katie and Cara looked at him. He didn't need this, to let anyone know that he had a little more than just a professional interest in Selena. But he couldn't ignore her discomfort.

  She stared at the party as they passed by the group. Mr. Simmons was so involved in a conversation, he didn't notice Brogan. But two of the men, separately, both sent Selena a look he didn't appreciate.

  A look that if Selena were his, he'd point it out to them both. Immediately.

  “Oh.” He kept the fury out of his tone of voice and slipped his hands into his pockets to conceal the fists.

  Selena shook her head. “I can deal with it.”

  “There's no reason for you to deal with it, though.” He looked at Katie. “If any of those men are inappropriate, let me know. Immediately.”

  She nodded her head. “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you want to work it with Katie? If not, Cara can pull someone else.”

  Selena took a deep breath. “I'm fine. Really. I'll give those two fine specimens to Katie.”

  Katie grinned. “I'll handle them.”

  “I'm sure you will.” Brogan patted Katie on the shoulder. “Let me know if you need any additional help.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Mr. O'Keeley.”

  Cara walked back up to the front, and Katie headed to the employee break room.

  “I mean it about those men. I'll ask them to leave if they say or do anything inappropriate.” He realized belatedly how deep his accent had grown. She didn't miss it based on the way her lips pursed together.

  “Between Katie and me, we'll be fine. Don't worry about it.”

  Rian came in the front door, already wearing his chef's shirt and ugly, required shoes. “I'm here to report to duty.”

  Brogan smirked. “Do you wear that outfit underneath your regular clothes, hoping for some type of culinary emergency?”

  Selena giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.” Her light eyes held a smile. “But that was funny.”

  “The short answer is yes, I do.” He grinned. “Are you here to help with the epidemic?”

  Selena nodded, looking a little more relaxed than before.

  Brogan straightened his shoulders. He'd done that. Made her laugh. Helped her relax from the tense woman a few moments ago.

  “Absolutely,” she said. “And they just seated my table. I need to get going.”

  She locked eyes with Brogan a quick second before her shoulder brushed his as she passed by him. Out of instinct, he grasped her wrist lightly in his hand and kept their hands low and concealed. She stopped, her head snapping up.

  “Cathal will be behind the bar. If you need help with those men and can't find me, tell him.” He skimmed his thumb along her inner wrist, enjoying the way her mouth parted with her exhale. “He'd probably enjoy tossing a pompous ass or two out of the restaurant.”

  She nodded her head once, and he dropped her wrist, immediately missing the contact of their skin.

  Rian's eyebrows were close to his hairline.

  “Don't even start.”

  “I don't even know where to start.” He patted Brogan on the back. “But I know this has to be tearing you up, so you have my sympathy. Glad you took our advice.”

  “It was horrible advice that ended in an awkward situation that I didn't know how to handle.”

  “I'd say you handled it fairly well judging by the way that pretty woman just looked at you.”

  “She doesn't think I have a sense of humor.”

  Rian contorted his face into an exaggerated frown. “I can't imagine why that is.”

  “Shut up and get to work.” He didn't even know what got into him when it came to Selena. His brothers, putting all sorts of ideas into his head, hadn't helped. He could compartmentalize her. She belonged in a neat box marked with an X. He needed to remember both their places.

  He was the boss.

  She was the employee.

  Everything else in his life functioned like clockwork except for Selena. With one last glance up at Simmons' party, he walked to the front of the business, again, looking for something to do that kept his mind off the pretty waitress he could never be with.

  * * *

  “Five of the guys slipped me their telephone numbers.” Katie snarled. “Dirty old men. Most of them are old enough to be my dad. And I told two of them that exact thing, but they just smiled and told me I could call them daddy.”

  “Do you think they just hit on anything moving hoping something will bite?” Selena threw away two pieces of paper with telephone numbers. The same two men as before passed them to her as she'd set down their appetizers.

  Katie giggled. “So now we're fish trying to dodge the hook.”

  “A hook with crappy bait.” Selena made her friend laugh, and she tried to feel just as lighthearted. But she couldn't. God, Brogan confused the hell out of her. Touching her one second and pushing her away the next. Acting as if he cared. Trying to make a damn joke of all things.

  All she'd done is tell herself he wouldn't cross that line because of his own rules. But what if it was more? What if it was because of her social standing? She'd faced that once before. Her ex-boyfriend, Jacob, had claimed to love her and then hidden her away when he realized she could never become the social queen he wanted. Was Brogan the same? Had she read all the signals right, but he kept remembering that she wasn’t in the same league as he was?

  “Excuse me,” a deep voice called from the table.

  Katie rolled her eyes. “Ugh.”

  “I'll take it. You take the water pitcher around and do a refill. Try not to dump it over someone's head.”

  “I'll try to control myself.”

  Selena headed back, scanning the table, noting that they were partway through their entrees. A few drinks needed a refill. She stopped beside Randy Simmons, who sat at the head of the table. An attractive man, well into his sixties that still worked out based on the way he filled out the dress shirt he wore. A pretty boy is what Katie had called him. Boy was a little stretch. He looked more like a grandpa Malibu Ken doll than a real man. Fake tan, bright white teeth, and a Rolex watch that must have cost him a small fortune. She hated flashy men like that.

  He probably drove an overpriced sports car, too.

  “Yes, sir?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I've asked you to call me Randy, Selena.”

  He had.

  And she hadn't.

  “Did you need something?” She looked at his plate, mostly empty. His drink was empty. “A vodka and tonic?”

  “Yes, and,” he said, lowering his voice, making it hard to hear above the conversation at the table, “I'd like to take you out sometime.”

  Damn. Even their leader was scuzzy. “I'm sorry, but I'm only available to provide you with another drink.” With most men, that provided them an easy way out of an awkward situation.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  She arched an
eyebrow and stood straight. “Same type of vodka?”

  “Do you know who I am?” He sat back in his chair like he'd tell her a story—definitely Malibu Ken Grandpa. “I'm about to renovate this entire corner of Atlanta. Put in a big plaza shopping center.”

  “Oh.” Her face felt hot. Straight anger from the cocky way he didn't care about the people he'd put out of a job. But it wasn’t her place to butt in. “So you don't want the drink?”

  He smiled brighter. “I like your spunk. Once we close O'Keeley's down, I'll have use for someone like you on my staff. If you're interested.”

  She crossed her arms. “And what does your staff do, exactly?”

  “Whatever I need them to do.” His hand encircled the outside of her thigh and squeezed.

  She smacked his arm away and stepped to the side. Her face flamed hotter. Adrenaline. “I'll get your check.”

  His lips quirked to the side. “I'm not through with my meal.” He motioned to the table. “Neither are my colleagues, and they'll leave when I do. You wouldn't want them to have to leave without paying since you didn't allow them time to finish? I'm sure your boss wouldn't like that.”

  The restaurant didn't need the loss of revenue on a party this size. It didn't mean they had to finish their dinner at O'Keeley's. Even Brogan had mentioned tossing them out. He'd have her back. She lifted her chin. “I'll be sure to bring you all a to-go box.” She turned and stormed out of the room and down the stairs.

  As promised, Cathal stood behind the bar, looking like he entertained the crowd better than serving drinks efficiently. But it was manpower on a night they desperately needed it. She took a strong, deep breath to cool her temper as she crossed the floor.

  She didn't want to bitch and moan about Simmons to Cathal. She'd handled it. Now, the group needed to pay and leave before Brogan came out to check on things. He had enough to worry about with the bank without her adding to it.

  Cathal met her at the end of the bar. He cleaned off two empty pint glasses and began to wipe down the wood. His red collared shirt with the O'Keeley's logo and blue jeans looked far more casual than he normally dressed.

  “Now, what has displeased you?”