by Palmer Jones
Selena's phone buzzed. Cathal of all people.
Came out looking for you. Which bar are you posted up?
She scanned the bar before looking back at the bartender. The redhead's eyes were still locked on Simmons. “What's the name of this place?”
“Fiona's.”
She typed it into her phone. Cathal responded immediately.
Luckily, I'm right down the street.
Ha! It looked like her Irish bodyguards were still around after all.
Simmons is here.
That time, she didn't get a response.
“I'm still waiting on my Kettle One,” Simmons said to the bartender.
“And I'm still waiting on you to stop bothering this lady.” She pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Can you sit there like a nice gentleman or do I need someone to throw you the hell out?”
“I've been nothing but a gentleman.” He sneered at her. “I offered her a job when the place she's working closes down.”
“You’re the one shutting it down!”
Simmons moved down two seats, too, putting himself right beside her.
She stood. “I'm not interested.”
He grabbed her by both hips, pulling her off balance in her high heels. “Stop playing me.”
The bartender shouted something, but she couldn't hear it. Not with the buzzing in her ears.
She slapped Simmons again, but he smiled, his fingers gripping so hard, she began to squirm.
Her knee caught his groin.
His eyes bugged out from the impact.
And then she stumbled backward, landing on her butt. Several people helped her up as she tried to make sense of what'd happened. Had Simmons pushed her?
The bartender slapped at someone who had Simmons pinned on top of the bar, his legs dangling off the edge, one shoe falling to the floor from him kicking frantically.
Cathal.
She went over and tugged at Cathal's shoulder. “Cathal! Chill. God, he can't breathe.”
Cathal said a string of words. Who knew what with the accent and dropping in and out of Irish. She'd be lucky if he didn't crush Simmons's windpipe with his forearm pressed into his throat.
“Cathal! Don't kill him!” She tugged harder. He released Simmons and stumbled backward with her, holding his hands up. Simmons slumped over on the floor, gasping for breath.
The bartender agilely climbed over the bar to see her customer. “Geez, man, you did about kill him.” She shook her head, eyes pinned on Cathal. “Damn it. You need to calm down. I don't need this now. I just got my liquor license back.”
The bouncer walked up, but the bartender waved him away. “It's done.”
Selena gave her an apologetic look. “I'm sorry. It's a long story.” She stepped in front of Cathal. The pure rage on his face didn't match up with the easy-going man she knew—the one whose brothers joked about his laziness.
Twice, Cathal had gone completely crazy on Simmons. She'd have to contemplate it later.
“What happened?” Katie came over, her girl of the night right behind her. “Did Cathal go ape-shit on Simmons again? I didn't see him walk in. Either one of them.”
“No, I don't guess you did.” She spared Katie half a glance. “You going home or staying here?” Because, at the moment, she never wanted to set foot in another bar. Or see Simmons again.
“Staying.”
“I'm going. Call me tomorrow.”
Cathal's hand gripped her elbow. “I'll see you home.”
The bartender stuck a hand on her hip. “Perfect! Your boyfriend nearly kills a man and off you two go without even checking on the slimy bastard who just threw up on the floor?”
Cathal stopped, eyes narrowing at the bartender in such a severe way most women might have backed away. Not this bartender. She crossed her arms, expecting an answer.
“The slimy bastard as you called him is lucky he got the brother and not the boyfriend.”
“I knew it!” Katie squealed before covering her mouth. Selena ignored her. She'd try and play it off tomorrow and make sure Katie didn't say anything.
“Tell your boss they can find me at O'Keeley's Pub if they have any problems.” Cathal forced Selena to move to the door and out into the warm night. “I really think Katie is not a good influence on you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Selena smarted back.
His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. “Are you sober?”
“Yes. I drove. My car is—”
“I'll handle your car.”
She hmphed. “Are the good looks to blame for all three of you being bossy as hell?”
“No. We were brought up to make sure a woman got home safely. You can thank our Ma for both, though.”
He opened the door to his silver Mercedes. Flashy. “Are you going to tell Brogan? About Simmons?”
“Of course.” He squeezed her shoulder, his voice turning softer. “Don't be surprised if he tries to see you tonight. He'll need his hands on you to know you're alright. Give him that.”
“It'll be almost two by the time I get ready for bed. I figure he's been asleep for a while.” He was so regimented with everything. Like a machine. A set time for everything. “Just tell him tomorrow.”
“The old man goes to sleep by ten if possible because he gets up to exercise so early. He'd kill me if I didn't let him know about Simmons immediately.” He scratched his jaw. “Plus, I might need to give him a heads up in case I get arrested for assault. I'll need him to come to bail my ass out of jail for avenging his girlfriend's honor.”
“About that. I think Katie heard what you said. You forgot to use my official title as the exclusive VP of Advertising.”
Cathal shrugged. “Just tell her not to say anything. I think she's a smart woman.”
But Selena wouldn't mention it to Brogan. He'd run for the hills if he thought someone outside his family knew about them.
When she arrived home, Katie's sister was waiting at the door. “Sorry. I didn't think I'd be gone this long.” Selena wrote her a quick check and made sure she got to her car alright before locking the apartment. No way Brogan would come by at two in the morning.
She washed her face and put on pajamas. Her body still tensed when she replayed the way Simmons yanked her, his hands on her body. She would eventually get over it.
Her phone beeped.
I'm outside.
Crap. Brogan had shown up. Selena threw back the covers and walked through the living room. She unlatched the deadbolts.
The door swung open as soon as she turned the knob. Brogan was there, hands on her, crushing her to his chest.
She patted his back. “Cathal said he'd call you.”
“I'm surprised he even left the man breathing.” He looked down. His expression was unreadable in the darkened living room. He'd worn a t-shirt, sweatpants, and his sneakers were untied. His hair messy. He looked like he rolled out of bed just to check on her.
“Cathal said he saw him grab you.”
She shifted to the side, pushing the door closed and flipping the deadbolts. “Yes. He did.”
“Why were you even near him?”
“Near him?”
“At the bar. If you'd have left....”
His gruff voice made her spine straighten. “Excuse me? How is this my fault?”
“I didn't say I thought it was.”
“Yes.” The anger, emotion, frustration from Simmons finally boiled over. “You did. You think I could have avoided it somehow? He sat down; I stood up. He touched me. I told him to stop and moved down the bar. The bartender told him to stop. He followed me, and I stepped away. He grabbed me. I slapped him, and he squeezed my hips tighter. I kneed him in his junk. Then, bam, Cathal pulled some wrestling move and almost crushed his windpipe.”
Brogan growled and muttered something she didn’t understand.
“I was the one who pulled Cathal off. I'm not sure your brother had any rational thought left, and Simmons isn't worth going to prison.”
“That's a
difference of opinion.” His hands rested on her waist. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you did anything wrong.” He kissed her lips lightly. “Did he hurt you?”
“Bruised a little.”
“Where.” He said it in his bossy voice that usually annoyed her. Most of the time, it made her straight up mad. Honestly, right then, she didn't want some overly emotional guy that babied her. She could see how other women wouldn't appreciate his matter-of-fact nature, but that was Brogan. When things got out of control, he took over. At two in the morning, she’d let him.
She rested her hands over his, sliding them down until they set where she'd seen the fingerprints when she'd changed her clothes. “Here.”
Brogan spread his hands wide and swallowed. “Can I see?”
“Do you need to?”
“Yes.”
She pulled down one side of her pajama pants, enough to show him the fingerprints.
He hissed through his teeth. “I'm sorry, Selena. This is my fault.”
Pulling up her pants, she shook her head. “Did you raise him to be a piece of shit? No. Neither one of us is to blame for his actions.” She slipped her arms around his waist. “I just want the memory to go away.”
He cupped her face. “What can I do?”
“Stay.”
His hesitant expression pulled her back into the reality of their situation. She was the secret girlfriend.
“Never mind.”
“No. I'll stay.”
“I'm not looking for anything more between us. I don't want to be alone.”
He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “I'll need to leave before you usually wake up.”
“Just nudge me when you go.”
Taking him by the hand, she led him through her small apartment. It became glaringly apparent that Brogan could never survive in a place that small. The narrow hallway exaggerated his size.
He chuckled as he stood at the edge of her room. “This is what I imagined.”
She looked around. Messy. She was a messy person and wouldn't try to cover it up. She crossed her arms, giving him as sexy a look as she could while wearing an old t-shirt and pair of flannel pajamas pants.
“I didn't realize a messy room would actually keep you from sleeping in my bed.”
“Not much of anything would keep me from doing that with an open invitation.” He flipped the light off. “Now, which side do you sleep on?”
13
Bacon.
The first thing he smelled when he opened his eyes. The second, a sweet wildflower scent that lingered in Selena's bedsheets. He rubbed a hand over his face. Had he overslept?
It was 5:00 a.m.
Her side of the bed was empty, and it disappointed him. He'd held her most of the night, not pushing anything between them physically. He'd never want that memory to come on the heels of what'd happened at the bar.
He grabbed his shirt, tugging it down and padding down the hallway to seek out the source of both delicious scents.
She stood at the stove, barefoot, muttering to the food like she needed to help it cook.
“Good morning,” he said, hoping not to scare her.
She barely glanced his direction. “Oh. Good. You're up. Can you grab the plates out of that cabinet?”
He opened the cabinet she'd indicated. The kitchen was small. Smaller than the one his Ma had back home.
“How many?”
“Three.” She started flipping off burners. “And it's ready. I was going to try and keep your plate warm.”
“Selena,” he nuzzled her neck from behind, finding the wildflowers again. “You didn't need to cook me breakfast.”
She swatted at him. “I probably wouldn't have if Mimi didn't wake up twenty minutes ago, asking for food.”
He straightened. “Where is she now?”
“I set her up in her room watching television. She can watch infomercials all day. At least until the soap operas come on.” She pursed her lips together. “Can I leave you to plate these and I’ll go grab her?”
“Sure.”
Selena wiped her hands on a towel as she scurried out of the room. He stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment. The kitchen. Cooking. Selena rushing to make sure her granny got food. Surreal.
“Here she is,” Selena announced.
Brogan hustled to plate the food. Rashers of bacon, eggs, and toast. He set a plate on the table, watching her granny the same way she watched him.
Uncertainty.
Did she know he'd stayed over in her granddaughter's bed? He'd been run out of a house or two in the mornings back home while still a teenager. Those memories didn't leave.
“I'm Estella Chapman.” She held out her hand.
“Brogan O'Keeley. Nice to make your acquaintance.” He held her thin hand lightly, aware of every bone. The only resemblance between Estella and Selena were their eyes.
Selena helped her to sit. “I'm glad to have some male company for a change. I keep asking Selena to find out if George Clooney kept any of his medical scrubs from his time on TV and might want to take over the nursing duties, but she won't.”
Brogan grinned. “I'm no George Clooney, but I'm glad to have your company as well.”
“What do you do, Brogan?”
Brogan paused before setting his plate down and sitting across from Estella.
Selena saved him. “He owns a restaurant.”
“Oh. You should hire Selena. That boss she has now I heard is a real tyrant.”
Brogan slowly turned to Selena, her nose almost shoved in the eggs on her plate. “Is he? Maybe I will have to steal her away.”
Selena drank a glass of water, not coming up for air until it was empty.
He took a bite of his breakfast, enjoying her discomfort for some reason. “What else did she say about her boss?”
“Oh, the usual stuff. He won't make up his mind about her.”
Selena's eyes grew round. “Mimi, I don't remember telling you that.”
“She'd thought about quitting a few times.”
“Quitting?” She’d quit O’Keeley’s?
Selena held up her hand to keep him quiet. He laid his fork down, but she didn't seem to care about him at the moment. “When did I tell you that?”
“Oh, honey, I don't know.” Estella became a little flustered. “Did you not? Sometimes things feel so fuzzy.”
“Yes. I did, Mimi. I—”
“So you were going to quit?”
She cut her eyes at him. “Hold on.” She took Estella's hand, patting it. “It's alright. I do remember telling you that now. Can you eat a little bit more for me?” She pointed at Brogan's plate. “Brogan has eaten all his bacon. You love bacon.”
She smiled. “I do love bacon.” She picked up a piece and began to chew on it.
“I need to talk to you.” He rose, not waiting for a response. Quitting? Why? He needed her in the business. They had that event to put on in a short turnaround. Cathal had mentioned two weeks. He needed her there. With him.
When he realized Selena hadn't followed him, he returned to the kitchen. She sat there, eating her eggs, unaware of the panic rolling inside him.
“Selena?”
She looked up at him. “What?”
“I asked you to come here so we could talk.”
“Asked?” She set her fork down. “I don't remember you asking.”
He ran a hand over his head. Why was she playing these games? “Selena, dear, will you please come into the living room?”
She arched an eyebrow. “No. I'm eating. I personally don't like cold eggs, and I used the last of them to make enough for the three of us.”
He really was an idiot sometimes. His shoulders relaxed. He walked back to the table, dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and sat down. He wasn't used to this, considering someone else's feelings.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, scooping up a forkful of eggs. They ate in silence. Estella didn't seem to notice. After Selena ate her last bite, Brogan rose and to
ok her plate.
Her eyes shot to his. He didn't blame her for doubting his motives. He didn't have any clue how to be in a relationship.
He turned the sink on hot. But the hot water never came on. “Selena, do you not have hot water.”
“Dang. It must be out. I'll go start it again, but you won't have hot water for a while.”
“Have you told the apartment complex about it?”
“Oh, yeah. They jump right on things when I complain.” She held up her hands as she left the room. “Sarcasm, Brogan.”
He turned back to the sink, scrubbing the dishes well before setting them in the drying rack.
“She likes you, you know.” Estella sat at the table, her golden eyes watching him. Her Southern accent sounded regal. “Don't let me be the reason you don't pursue a relationship with my granddaughter.”
He turned the water off and dried his hands on the worn towel. He walked to Estella and squatted down in front of her. “I'm proud that she takes care of you.”
“I know it's a burden. I keep hoping the insurance will pull through for her.” Her eyes shined, and she glanced away.
He took her thin hands in his. “She wants to get you the best care possible. Would you like for me to help you back into the living room or your room?”
“Yes.” He took a hand under her elbow, helping her rise. He turned. Selena stood in the doorway.
“I can help her.”
“I got it. Where are we headed?” He followed Estella's instruction, helping back into her bed to finish getting some sleep. It was barely five thirty.
But when he returned, Selena wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. He found her in her room, sitting on the side of the bed, staring at the windowless wall.
“Are you alright?” He sat down beside her.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I did want to quit. I told her that when she wasn't in her current mind. I was surprised that she remembered it. Sorry I snapped at you.”
He set a hand on her knee. “I really don't want you to quit.”
“That's nice to hear.”
“We really need you right now. Cathal has this idea to generate more income and help make up that five hundred thousand that the owner tacked onto the price. A big promotion to draw in a huge crowd.”
“So my boss doesn't want me to quit. The man that slept in my bed last night doesn't have an opinion?”
