Troubles (Beekman Hills Book 1)

by K. C. Enders

  Tonight, though, McBride’s is anything but quiet. No time to think—just pitcher after pitcher of green-tinted beer, and bad decisions being made all about me. Francie warned me that St. Patrick’s Day is a bastardization of what it is in Dublin. Last week he painted the double lines on the road out front bright green. He’s been paying a huge fine to the city for years for the stunt, but smiles while the police write him his summons and calls the whole thing good advertising.

  He’s a good man, Francie is, making sure one of his bartenders has the night off to celebrate—works his arse off to make up for the missing man, keeping supplies up and things under control with the patrons.

  The stacks of cups coming from the storeroom grabs my attention well before I see Francie. At least people make space letting him through. Maybe it’s the realization that if they don’t, then the shite beer he’s tinted green stops flowing.

  I reach for a wad of bills and the next pitcher, chuckling at Finn laid out across the bar top giving a peck to a girl. I’ve seen her in here once before, the night I arrived and laid my heart out for Francie.

  She laughs at Finn and his moves, comfortable with him—but maybe not entirely comfortable in her skin with the way she’s tugging at her shirt. When her friend leans in—her lips puckered at Finn, I see him pause like a deer in the headlights. He fancies himself a ladies’ man, but generally can’t hide the bit of surprise when his plans actually work.

  Time passes in a blur of people and pitchers, flirting and laughing—until it doesn’t. I don’t see the lead up to it, but some knobhead just shoved some blond thing, spilling her beer down the front of her friend. The poor girl is soaked.

  I am over the bar and plowing through people before things can escalate—or because I can’t stand that shite and have to make him apologize for being an arse. It’s not until I turn to check on the poor girl drenched in beer that I see it’s her. And I’m about to mop the towel across her soaked chest. Thank Christ, I stop myself just before I have my hands on her gorgeous tits, overflowing from her tiny shirt.

  She’s fighting tears, looking absolutely miserable. My heart clenches and I want to protect her—give her some cover. So, I pull her in tight behind me as we make our way through to the back of the bar.

  “What d’ye do, give her the biggest shirt ye could find?” Finn quips as I pass behind him getting back to work after helping her.

  “It was the first one I grabbed. Thought it’d do fine.” That’s not at all true. Something about her being exposed after all of that bothered me. She didn’t look particularly comfortable in the tight shirt she was in before it was plastered to her round, perfect tits. Jesus—I covered her up so no one would be thinking of her that way.

  Reaching for the next pitcher, I get back into the rhythm of the bar. “What happened anyway? I didn’t see.”

  Things have settled a bit and we’re able to stand side by side and chat for a moment. Finn’s cheeks go full red as I tell him what I saw and he starts cursing switching to Gaelic for the full effect. “—and Francie threw him out, yeah? Lissy’s okay?” His jaw ticks and eyes dart around the room.

  “He did—he’s gone, mate.” I follow his line of sight and see her smiling at her friend finally relaxing a bit. “What’s her story? She’s gorgeous.”

  “Don’t. Just leave that alone. She’s special.” He makes a good effort of puffing up his chest and trying to make sure I know he’s serious.

  “Right.” No way I’m intimidated by this pup, but we’re obviously done talking for now. Scanning the room, I can’t help but to find her in the crowd—her pull magnetic.

  She’s beautiful—gorgeous, really. Auburn hair cascades in a mass of curls down her back. I think of the silky strand that passed through my fingers in the storeroom—and her deep green eyes.

  I fill several more pitchers answering the same question I’ve heard all night long. You’re new here, right? So, are you really Irish? The accent and a little bit of flirting can accomplish just about anything I need it to, and the girls here are drawn to it like flies to honey. My tip jar is full up again, and there’s still hours yet to go.

  The night feels like it’ll never end. Pushing my hair back again and holding it there, I glance slowly around the room, hoping to see it starting to clear out. I’m completely disappointed to see it’s just as packed as it has been since we opened today. My gaze bounces around the room until I find her.

  Finn mentioned her name, but that was hours and hundreds of pitchers ago. I wonder about her story, trying to work it out in my mind as I think about the timid, self-conscious way she holds herself. The way Francie and Finn seem to wrap her up and look out for her. The photographer in me wants to capture her image. Tease out the sadness she holds in her eyes. This girl is absolutely gorgeous. Stunning. But she’s seen some troubles.

  She darts her gaze away from me, back to the conversation flowing around her. I can’t help my smile and shake my head, chuckling under my breath. As much as I was working her out in my mind, I just busted her checking me out. And that’s okay. I like that she was looking at me. The idea that maybe she’s trying to figure out my story as well. I don’t want to think of that tonight.

  It’s coming on four in the morning when Francie finally starts ushering the last of the people out the door. I head to the back and put the keg of Guinness back on tap and pour one for myself and Finn. There’s no way I’m closing out this night without having at least one. Francie’s shrill whistle hits me from where he’s shuffling people out the front door. He nods at the tap with a little bit of longing in his eye, so I pull a pint for him as well.

  Coming around the bar, with three pints in one hand and snagging a bag of rubbish with the other, I do a quick scan and see the last handful of people heading for the door. What I don’t see is the blur of luscious curves coming out of the storage room. I have no time to move—barely time to brace myself—I drop the trash, and wrap my arm around the stumbling girl to keep her from falling.

  Again.

  “Ohmygod, shit. Ohmygod.”

  The minute I realize who I’ve got my arm wrapped around, I pull her a little closer, hold on a little tighter. “You’re alright, then?” Her arms are trapped between us, one hand pressed flat to my chest. Everywhere we’re pressed together, from hip to shoulder, tingles like there’s some kind of current running between us.

  Slowly, she tilts her head back and looks up at me, her eyes wide and sparkling. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s three.” I smile down at her, not quite ready to let her go. Her brows pinch together as she purses her lips, confusion washing over her perfect features. “I’ve saved you three times tonight.”

  “You have.” She straightens, pulling away from me. “Thank you…really. I…I—um, thank you, for everything.” Her voice is soft and shy. I keep my arm wrapped round her a bit longer than I need to, because I want to. But when I finally let her go, I feel the loss of her body pressed up against me far more than I should. She steps back with an awkward smile quirking at her lips.

  “G’night, then.”

  “Good night.” She turns away, going straight to Finn and Francie, hugging them and gracing each with a kiss on the cheek. Her attention briefly lands on me as she and her friend trip out the door a little unsteady on their feet. Arms linked and heads tilted together like they’re sharing a secret.

  “Francie.” I prop the door open with my shoulder, letting the early morning air sweep through the pub. I watch the two girls walk away, the streetlights spotlighting their path as they go. “They’re alright walking home this late, yeah?”

  He stands on the walkway out in front of his pub; his pint in one hand and the other stroking his beard as he narrows his eyes on the girls. Several blocks away now, she turns and waves before disappearing into the small apartment building. “She knows I’ve got her back.” Francie fixes me with a pointed stare, brows pinched in earnest.

  That message is delivered loud and clear.


  Chapter 3

  Lis

  Gracyn and I are completely holding each other up as we pick our way down the sidewalk to our apartment. We share a second-floor apartment in an old building just off the town square. “Holy shit, Gracyn. What even happened tonight?”

  “Did you kiss him? Were you licking him in the storeroom?” She tries to hip bump me but misses, and I have to grab her so she doesn’t fall. “You were so kissing him, right?”

  “Nope.” I sigh, but I really wanted to.

  “Liiiissss,” she draws my name way out dramatically, “but, did you see? Did you see how he rescued you? It was like a fairy tale.” Gracyn’s leaning all her weight into me, her head tilted—almost resting on my shoulder.

  I did see it, and I can still feel the heat from his touch lingering on my back. Where our bodies were aligned from my hip all the way up to my chest. If I closed my eyes, I swear I can feel the hard planes of his chest against the palms of my hands. But if I do close them, I’m pretty sure the two of us will bust ass and I know Francie is watching from the doorway to make sure we get home safe.

  “Which time?” I swing my still-wet shirt back and forth, trying to keep my mind from wandering back to Aidan. The feel of him. “He saved me more than once tonight, G.” Rob never went out of his way to do anything for me. He just broke my heart.

  Gracyn climbs the steps to unlock our door as I turn to wave at Francie. But Francie’s not standing outside alone. Aidan is with him—leaning against the door drinking his pint. He raises his glass and nods to me before we each turn, disappearing into the warmth inside.

  Gracyn plops down on the couch with a bottle of water and a bagel, scrolling through her phone, her body swirling as though the world spins around her. I toss my wet shirt into the laundry basket and start peeling my beer-soaked bra off. “I’m gonna shower off before bed, you okay?” Gracyn doesn’t even look up from her phone as she waves me off.

  While the water heats up, I stare into the mirror, assessing myself. I take a deep breath and remind myself to stop focusing only on my faults. I try to see myself through someone else’s eyes, but I end up falling into old habits, finding my eyes too wide, my boobs too big and my thighs too thick. I twist my hair up into a messy bun, not wanting to bother with drying it tonight.

  I step under the spray and let the warm water fall over my shoulders, washing the stale beer away.

  I knew something would happen eventually.

  It’s been some kind of a game to see who could humiliate me more since we broke up. Can you even call it a breakup? Was I supposed to let Rob just have his fun with Maryse until they were done? Or wait until he picked the time most beneficial to him and his fucking political aspirations to publicly break up with me? I think not. Catching them in the act on Christmas Eve was all the humiliation I needed.

  But this is the new me. One my family didn’t expect, the me they didn’t think I was capable of being. I walked as far away as I could in this little town, from the toxicity that is my family—the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally. Gracyn has a theory that Maryse is jealous of me but that thought is ridiculous. I can’t help but laugh at that as I step out of the shower and make the usual comparisons. Height, hips, and hair—I’ve been told since forever that she is the standard and I fall short in every way. I’m still working on being okay with me just the way I am.

  By the time I brush my teeth and fall into bed, the sun is ridiculously close to rising. I burrow down into my crisp sheets and close my eyes, thankful that I don’t have to work until late in the afternoon. On the edge of asleep, I feel my bed dip and hear Gracyn mumble, “Not gonna talk about it?”

  “Talk about what, G?”

  “Any of it—all of it. Rob and Maryse. You think they asked Tyler to do that, to embarrass you at McBride’s?”

  “When did he change, Gracyn? When did he become this pompous asshole?” I know I missed all the signs. I was too busy working to pay my rent, buy my books—too wrapped up in keeping my own GPA up for my scholarship.

  Rob’s finishing up law school with a position already waiting for him in his father’s law firm, Barrett & Barrett. It sounds far fancier than it is—that second Barrett in the title, that’s Rob. When we started dating there wasn’t any of this pretentiousness. He was just a normal guy who wanted more. Wanted to make his dad proud by following in his footsteps, make a difference in the world.

  “Mmm…about the time he started dating your sister? All of those people are evil, Lis. You’re better off without them.” It seems simple enough when she says it, but knowing how little my mom and sister—let alone my dad—consider me hurts in a way that I can’t just shrug off. “Even the most perfect little families have skeletons. At least yours are all out in the open.”

  The mattress bounces as Gracyn flops over to face me, her waggling eyebrows contrasting with her drunk, droopy eyelids. “Let’s move on. Francie’s new guy—you gonna tap that? It’s time to move on.”

  “Jesus, Gracyn. Really?”

  She falls onto the pillow and her breath evens out. She starts to snore, leaving me staring at the ceiling thinking back over the past couple months. How crushed I was. How my mother implied it was my fault that Rob cheated on me.

  You’re too independent, Lisbeth. If you had made yourself more available to Robert, been more interested in his goals like your sister is, he wouldn’t have looked to spend time elsewhere.

  After that, I really had nothing to say to her. Anna Rittenhouse has an unbelievable talent for rationalizing everything to suit her purpose. And her purpose once again, was to boost up her favorite daughter, Maryse.

  Gracyn is the one who put me back together. She spent Christmas with me like we usually did, but instead of hanging out in our apartment after family dinner, laughing at Maryse and my mom, Gracyn consoled me. She sat with me on the floor handing me tissues until I ran out of tears. She filled my wine glass until we ran out of that too.

  She went down to McBride’s and made sure Francie knew what had happened. She also talked Finn out of finding Rob and taking care of him for me. They were my true family. These people who wrap me up in love and support that I’ve never felt from the ones who were related to me by blood.

  I wake up with Gracyn’s hair across my face and a desperate need for coffee and greasy food. “Unng—are you drooling on my pillow?” I whine, shoving myself out of bed to head for the kitchen.

  “Coffee…” The morning drama with her is real. She’s capable of little more than grumbling until she’s had her caffeine.

  “Go take a shower. You smell like the stale beer and we have to work—” I look at the clock on the microwave and groan. It’s almost one o’clock. “—soon. We have to work soon.” I start the coffee and drink down a full water bottle as fast as I can. I’m not hungover—I slept through that whole thing—but I’m thirsty, and tired, and a little sad.

  Gracyn shuffles into the kitchen, her hair wet and her eyes still half shut. “Are we going to the diner for food or straight to the bistro so Tony can cook for us?”

  “Diner.”

  “Or should we go to McBride’s and get food there? You can flirt some more with…” She looks at me over the top of her mug, searching her fuzzy memories for his name.

  “Aidan. His name is Aidan. And no, I’m not going there, I’ve gotta get through the rest of this year, graduate and get a job that pays better.” I turn away, looking for my car keys.

  “Lissy, you’ve got to start dating again sometime. He’s perfect—TDH, muscles for days, and probably only here for a minute.”

  “TDH?”

  Gracyn shrugs like it should be obvious. “Tall, dark, and handsome, sweetie. He can be your rebound, no pressure.” She’s serious. How can she be serious about this?

  “For the love of God, Gracyn. No. I’m fine.”

  Chapter 4

  Aidan

  It’s been almost a week that I’ve been looking for her with every chime of the bell. Hoping t
o see her come back through the door of McBride’s. I’ve worked every shift I could in that time, not wanting to chance missing her. Francie went all protective when I asked about her, and Finn’s been useless for anything beyond her name and that I need to keep my distance. Jimmy, the other bartender who shares the flat, talks about her while we clean the bar and pour drinks.

  He’s told me she’s at university, almost done with her program. That she works at Bistro Antonio across town—waiting tables and pouring cocktails. I went in there for lunch a couple days ago, hoping to see her, wanting to chat her up, but she wasn’t working. I hung out as long as I could without bleeding over into the dinner rush, but she must have been to class and I had my shift at McBride’s. I caught sight of her friend, the one Finn fancies, as I left, but no sign of Lisbeth.

  Tuesday, I spend most of the day in New York City. I was able to arrange a meeting for a photo shoot. It’s not the journalistic side that I’m used to, but I miss being behind my camera, and shooting a few weddings for the right people will get me back to doing what I love.

  The train ride in to New York City is a little over an hour, giving me plenty of time to think about what’s next for me. The rhythmic sway of the train lulls me deep into the introspection I’ve been trying to avoid lately. Tending bar has been a great mindless distraction, but with all the time I’ve taken off since Michael died, I probably need to focus a bit back on my career. After university, I fell into photojournalism and made excellent use of my cameras and passport. Until I got the call home.

  If this meetup goes well, I’ll be able to fill more of my hours doing what I’m really good at—and pad my wallet as well.