Escape With Me

by Kristen Proby

  “My ma would have my hide if she knew I let you sleep on the sofa.” I smile at her and turn to the linen closet for fresh sheets. Less than ten minutes later, my bedroom belongs to Izzy, and I have a blanket and a pillow waiting for me in the living room. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

  I walk into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea and hear Izzy walking into the bathroom. The shower starts. I lean on the countertop, my head hanging, chin touching my chest.

  The sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life is naked in my shower, about to sleep in my flat, and she’s totally off-limits.

  She’s only hours from running out of her wedding.

  And she works for me.

  But, damn it, something about her pulls at me.

  The water turns off, and I can picture her drying herself with a fluffy, white towel. The bathroom door opens. She shuts off the light and shuffles back to the bedroom, wearing a pair of Maggie’s sweats and an old college T-shirt.

  I carry my tea to the sofa and let it steep on the coffee table as I take the fastest shower of my life, given the lack of hot water. I pull on some clean clothes and return to the living room to lie down. My feet hang over the end of the armrest. My shoulders are too wide for the cushions.

  I’m a damn giant on this thing.

  I shift onto my side and watch the steam rising from my mug.

  The light under the bedroom door goes out, and the flat becomes still in the night.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  Chapter 2

  ~Izzy~

  I hear rain.

  Does it rain this hard in Aruba?

  I stretch under the covers and frown at the soreness in my ankles and feet. I open my eyes and frown.

  I’m not in Aruba.

  I’m in Washington.

  In a strange man’s bed.

  Alone.

  Yesterday’s events roll through my mind, from running out on the wedding to the long drive, and Keegan giving me a job. I should feel guilty. Sad. But I don’t. All I feel is relief.

  I sit up and reach for my phone, turning it on. I’m sure I have dozens of messages waiting for me. After my dad sent me the pleasant message that I’d embarrassed the family, hurt his friends, and was fired and on my own, I’d turned off the phone and didn’t give it another thought for the rest of the day.

  I yawn and rub my hands over my face as the screen comes to life, and then frown when I see I only have one missed text.

  From Troy.

  Where do you want me to send your shit?

  That’s it. No worried messages from my friends or my mom. Just Troy wondering where to ship the few things I have at his house.

  I do a quick Google search for O’Callaghan’s Pub, then copy and paste the address and hit send.

  “Well, that’s pathetic,” I mutter as I get out of bed and open the bedroom door. I need the restroom and food, in that order.

  When I walk toward the kitchen, I glance over and see Keegan asleep on the small couch in the living room. He looks massive on the tiny sofa. He’s lying on his back, his feet propped on the armrest, his arms crossed over his chest.

  His very bare chest.

  I guess standing and ogling another man less than twenty-four hours after fleeing the altar is a strong indicator that my marriage to Troy wasn’t a good idea.

  But Keegan is long and lean, tanned and muscled—his abs are what a girl’s dreams are made of. And even in sleep, he has the slightest little scowl line between his eyebrows.

  Keegan doesn’t strike me as a grumpy man, but he has that sexy crease.

  “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, then?” he says without opening his eyes.

  I feel my cheeks flush. “I thought you were asleep.”

  He rubs his hands over his face and then sits up on the side of the sofa. “I was until I felt someone staring at me.”

  “Sorry.” I shuffle my feet. “Want me to make some coffee?”

  “No, I think we should both get dressed, and I’ll take you out for breakfast at my favorite place.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  “I’m going with or without you,” he says but softens his tone with a small smile. “It’s my daily routine. And you’re welcome to join me.”

  My stomach growls, and I nod. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

  It doesn’t take long for me to get dressed and ready to go—hair tied back in a ponytail, a bit of mascara and lip gloss I had stowed in my purse applied. I’m beyond lucky that Maggie and I are roughly the same size and that she has such an extensive closet. I borrowed several days’ worth of clothes to get me through until I make enough money to buy some things for myself.

  When Keegan’s ready, we set out down a flight of stairs behind the pub that leads to his truck waiting in the alley.

  With a turn of the key, Keegan’s Toyota 4x4 roars to life, and he pulls out of the parking space and onto the main road.

  “So, you go out to breakfast every morning?” I ask, trying to make conversation.

  “Most days. I don’t cook, and I like this diner. Good people own it.”

  I’m watching the town pass by as we make our way through the heart of it. “It’s such a cute town. I didn’t pay much attention yesterday.”

  “You had other things on your mind,” he says. “We’re a small community of just over three-thousand people. We swell to twice that size in tourist season, but given we’re nearing the end of summer, things are about to slow down.”

  “I bet that’s not good for your business.”

  “It’s true that summer is the best time for the pub, but I stay busy enough all year through. We have our steady regulars, who want to come by for a pint or just some conversation. And the music brings in a good crowd on the weekends. My parents established roots in this community, and they’re sturdy ones.”

  “I could tell last night that a lot of the customers were regulars,” I reply. “I like your pub very much, Keegan.”

  He smiles, and I swear it could light up all of the Pacific Northwest. “Thank you, lass.”

  Lass. Jesus God Almighty, that accent is ridiculously sexy. I’ve never been a woman to swoon over a foreign accent. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent a lot of time abroad with my family, and it just never did anything for me.

  But Keegan’s accent is smooth and lyrical. Like the gorgeous music played in his pub.

  He parks on the street in front of a retro-looking diner on the corner. It appears as if it’s been here since the town began.

  When we walk inside, everyone looks up and waves at Keegan. It’s very much like the show Cheers, and it makes me laugh.

  “So, you know everyone, then.”

  He nods as we sit in a booth. “Small town, Izzy.”

  “What’s good?” I ask as I look at the menu before me. “Is there a local favorite here?”

  “The cinnamon rolls are a religious experience,” he says.

  “You don’t have a menu.”

  “No. I get the same thing every day.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Oatmeal with raisins and a side of toast.”

  “You come all the way across town for oatmeal?”

  “And coffee.”

  I grin at him just as the waitress walks over to us. “Your usual today, Keegan?”

  “Yes, please. And whatever Izzy’s having, of course.”

  “I want two eggs, scrambled, some hash browns, and bacon. And a cinnamon roll.”

  The waitress raises a brow. “You must be hungry.”

  “I am.”

  She fills both our cups with coffee and then wanders off to place our orders.

  “How do you feel today?” Keegan asks.

  “My feet are a little sore,” I confess. “I’m just not used to working on them, but I’ll adjust.”

  “And how about mentally?”

  I stir the creamer into my coffee, then take a sip and frown at him over the rim of the cup. “
What do you mean?”

  “You walked out on a wedding yesterday. I’m curious as to how you feel about it today.”

  “Oh.” I take another sip and feel the caffeine start to flow through my veins. “Well, Troy texted me this morning and asked where he should send my shit, as he called it. So, I gave him the pub’s address. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine.” He sips his black coffee. “And doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m relieved. And I’m happy to be here. That’s all I know for now.”

  “It’s a good start.”

  I don’t want to confess that no one cares where I am today. That the only message waiting for me this morning was from my ex-fiancé, and he wasn’t at all concerned, just wanted to know where to send my stuff.

  I’ve had crappy people in my life for a long time, and it’s only more glaringly obvious today. I don’t want to admit that to Keegan.

  It’s embarrassing.

  “Holy crap,” I say as the waitress returns with our meals. She’s carrying a huge tray on her shoulder, and I practically swallow my tongue when I see the size of the cinnamon roll. “This is huge.”

  “Don’t worry, we can box up anything you can’t put away here,” the waitress says with a wink and then walks away.

  “You’re going to help me eat this,” I inform Keegan, who just grins at me from across the table.

  “That’s what I was counting on.”

  “I can’t believe these words are about to come out of my mouth.” I’ve just buckled my seatbelt after the most delicious breakfast of my life, and I am pretty sure I gained fifteen pounds.

  So worth it.

  “But I have to stop at the store, or a Target, someplace for some essentials and snacks.”

  “Snacks?” Keegan pulls out into light traffic.

  “Yes. I’m a snacker. I can’t help it. Is there a Target in town?”

  “Sure.” He doesn’t have to drive far before he’s pulling into the parking lot.

  “This shouldn’t take long.”

  “No hurry.”

  Once inside, I make a beeline for the shampoo section. I don’t have much money since Dad cut me off, but I have some cash from last night’s tips, and I need a few things. I grab some shampoo and conditioner—not my usual expensive brand, but it will do. I also snag some deodorant before wandering over to the snacks.

  I grin when I see that the Goldfish are on sale and toss a bag into my basket.

  “Don’t judge me,” I warn Keegan as I grab some graham crackers. “I’m a seven-year-old when it comes to snacks.”

  He just laughs, but when we make our way to the pizza Lunchables, and I reach for one, he shakes his head.

  “This one, I’ll judge you for. If you want pizza, we’ll buy pizza.”

  “Pizza is my favorite.”

  “What you have in your hand isn’t real pizza.”

  “Fine.” I sigh and put it back, then smile when I see my favorite wine on an end cap. I reach for a bottle and hear Keegan sigh next to me. “What?”

  “You know I own a bar, right? There’s no need to buy the wine.”

  “Do you serve this brand? Because it’s my favorite.”

  “I guess I do now,” he mutters and takes a picture of the bottle with his phone.

  “Okay, this will do for today.”

  He nods and leads me to the checkout. After the cashier rings up my things, he reaches for his wallet, and I shake my head.

  “This is my junk, Keegan.”

  “You don’t have any money.”

  “Yes, I do. I have tips from last night.” I pass the cash over to the cashier and accept my bags from her. When we’re outside, I glance up at him. “I appreciate you wanting to help. I really do. But you’ve already gone above and beyond. I can pay for my own shampoo and Goldfish.”

  “Understood.”

  “You’re done for the day,” Keegan says at around seven in the evening. “You can grab some dinner here, if you like.”

  “I’ve been eyeing more of that stew all day,” I say as I untie my apron. “I feel like such an idiot.”

  “Because you like stew?”

  “No.” I lean on the bar and smile at him. “Because this is just so hard. I feel so clumsy and slow. Maggie breezes around here like some kind of Irish faerie, taking orders and making people smile. She even sang earlier while she delivered drinks. And I can barely carry the tray with a food order without making a fool of myself.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself, lass,” he says. “Now, go get yourself a bowl of stew and come have a seat.”

  I nod and walk through the swinging door to where Keegan’s brother, Shawn, mans the kitchen. His wife, Lexi, fills a basket full of fries.

  “Whenever you have a moment, I’d love a bowl of stew,” I say when Lexi looks over with a smile.

  “Of course.” She reaches for a bowl to ladle a scoop into and then adds a crusty piece of bread to the side. “How was your shift today, Izzy?”

  “Oh, just fine, thanks. I’m going to take this to the bar.”

  Lexi nods and then gets back to filling orders with Shawn.

  I’ve just taken a bite of my stew when Keegan approaches and sets a glass of wine on the bar for me. I take a sip and then stare at him in surprise.

  “This is the wine I showed you today.”

  “It is, yes.”

  “You didn’t have to go back out and get it.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” He wipes the bar with his white towel. “You look knackered.”

  “If that means exhausted, you’d be right. Maybe the past couple of days finally caught up with me.”

  He nods and watches as I eat my dinner. “Well, go on up when you’ve finished here and make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you. Really, Keegan.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  And with that, he wanders away to fill drink orders and chat with the customers. Keegan is an attentive bartender. His patrons enjoy sitting at the bar rather than the high-top tables so they can sit and chat with him as they drink a pint of beer or eat their dinner.

  Keegan’s a good listener and knows when to refill a glass or cut someone off who’s had a bit too much. He reads the room well, and he’s quick with a laugh, or even to join Maggie for a song—which surprised me.

  He has a wonderful singing voice.

  It’s been fun watching Keegan, Maggie, and Shawn together. Their love for each other is evident. I didn’t realize that families got along like this outside of fiction.

  Once I’ve finished my dinner, I take my dishes to the kitchen and then climb the stairs to Keegan’s apartment above. Finally, with no eyes on me, I can move a bit slower.

  My feet are screaming. The blisters are bad enough, but add in my sore ankles and achy toes, and I want to cry.

  Still, I make it upstairs and flop down on the couch. I turn on the TV to have some noise and lean my head back against the cushions.

  I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, Keegan is standing over me and shutting off the TV.

  “Oh, sorry. I fell asleep.”

  His lips twitch as I stand, and then he scowls when I turn to walk away.

  “Why are you limping?”

  “My feet are just a little sore.”

  “Sit.” His stern voice leaves no room for argument.

  I do as he asks, and he kneels in front of me and unties the shoes Maggie lent me. When he peels off the socks, he gasps.

  “My God, you’re fucking bleeding, Izzy.”

  “Yeah, the blisters are a bitch. And my ankles are sore.”

  “You needn’t have worked your feet into bloody stumps.”

  “I’m fine,” I insist, but he stands and stomps into the bathroom. I hear the tub filling, and then he returns and lifts me right off the couch. “I can walk, you know.”

  “Not on these feet, you can’t.” He sits me on a stool next to the tub, and when it’s the temperature he likes, he urges
me to put my feet in. “It’s going to sting on those blisters for a second, but you need to soak your feet, lass.”

  Honestly, as long as he calls me lass, I’ll do whatever he wants.

  He’s right. The blisters sting when they hit the warm water, but after a few moments, it subsides. Keegan disappears for a bit, but when he returns, he has a hot cup of tea.

  “I added honey because you like your drinks sweet.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The wine you like is sweet, and you added sugar to your coffee this morning.”

  I eye him as I sip the tea. “It’s delicious, thank you.”

  He kneels next to the tub and reaches in to see to my feet. It’s quite nice to simply sip a hot drink while someone washes my feet in a warm tub.

  He drains the water, then gently pats my skin dry. Once again, he lifts me to take me to the bedroom.

  “You can change.” He takes the teacup out of my hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  I blink at him. He’s being so nice to me.

  I quickly change back into Maggie’s sweats and T-shirt just as Keegan knocks on the door and comes in carrying another cup of hot tea and a bottle of lotion.

  “Go ahead and get comfortable,” he says.

  “You really don’t have to do this.”

  “I’m the reason your feet hurt like this.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m wearing shoes half a size too big.” But I do as he asks and get comfortable on the bed. He’s careful not to rub the lotion over the blisters as he massages it into my skin. His hands are so strong. When he digs his thumb into the arch of my foot, I have to bite my lip so I don’t moan in delight.

  I lean back and close my eyes.

  “If you keep rubbing my feet, I’m going to fall asleep,” I warn him.

  “That’s not a bad thing,” he murmurs, not stopping at my warning. His hands feel good on my skin, and with the warm tea in my belly, I relax and feel all the stress of the day melt away.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “If the whole bar ownership thing doesn’t work out for you, you could go to massage school.”

  I open my eyes, expecting to see him with that sexy smirk on his lips, but his gaze is intent on my face.