Escape With Me

by Kristen Proby

  “It’s my dad,” I say in surprise. Keegan puts the truck back in park, and I answer. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Izzy. It’s your father.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, I have your number programmed, Dad.”

  “I’ll get right to the point of this call. I want to know when you’ll be coming home. It’s past time you do so.”

  I sigh and shake my head. “I’m not coming home to live, Dad. I’ll come visit if you and Mom want me to, but I won’t be living in Salem again.”

  “This is ridiculous,” he mutters on the other end. “You have responsibilities here, young lady. I expect you to take over my company someday.”

  “No, you expect me to marry someone to take over your company one day, Dad. Because I’m just a woman, and running a multi-million-dollar enterprise isn’t appropriate. But I can tell you right now, that’s never going to happen.”

  “Troy is not the bad man you’ve made him out to be,” he insists. “In fact, he’s a good man, and you need to come here and apologize to him. You need to make things right with him and do your duty to our family.”

  I sit up straight and stare at my phone. He’s lost his damn mind. “I don’t think you heard me. I won’t apologize to Troy, today or any day. I’m not marrying him. If you love him so much, you marry him, Dad.”

  “I didn’t raise you to speak to me that way.”

  “You didn’t raise me at all!” I laugh at the absurdity of it. “Nannies raised me. And this is who I am.”

  “What? A lowly barmaid who barely makes minimum wage in some bumpkin town in Washington?”

  “I’m an independent, hardworking, good person in a lovely small community in Washington. You can take it or leave it.”

  “I’m incredibly disappointed in you, Isabella Marie.”

  “Likewise. I can tell by your tone that you’re going to leave it. And that’s fine. You have my number if you need me, but don’t use it if you’re only going to hound me about marrying an abusive, cheating man just because it fits your needs. Goodbye.”

  I hang up and toss my phone into my purse.

  “I’m so sorry, love.”

  “I’m not.” I shake my head and turn to Keegan. “I’m not sorry at all. It’s way past time I stood up to that man. Speak up for myself. He can’t bully me into doing what he wants anymore, and it’s driving him crazy. But I don’t care. He’ll learn to live with it. I’m not going back there. I love my life here.”

  “Good.” He leans over to kiss my lips. “It’s glad I am that you’re happy here.”

  “I’ll be happier if you get your oatmeal.”

  “On our way.” He pulls away from the deli and circles the block to park in front of the diner. “Are you having oatmeal, as well?”

  “Hell no, I’m having pancakes.”

  How dare my father insult my job? I freaking love working at the pub. And tonight is no different. It’s Saturday night, so we’re busy. The band plays on the stage, and Maggie, Maeve, and I work the tables while Keegan and Tom pull the taps, and Fiona, Lexi, and Shawn man the kitchen.

  All hands on deck tonight, and I am having the time of my life.

  “It’s a beauty you are, Miss Izzy,” Frank, one of our regulars, says as I set his drink in front of him. His grin widens when I add the burger and fries he ordered. “Run off and marry me, why don’t you?”

  “Ah, Frank.” I pat him on the shoulder and offer him a wink. “You’d be sick of me within a week.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  He laughs as I kiss his cheek and then saunter away to put a drink order in with Keegan.

  “Flirting with the customers are you, love?” he asks.

  “Frank’s convinced that I own his heart and proposed for the fourth time this week.”

  Keegan laughs as Maeve approaches the bar. “He proposed to me just a half-hour ago.”

  “It’s a fickle heart he has, our Frank.” Keegan pulls the tap for the Guinness. “How’s it going out there, ladies?”

  “Fine for me tonight,” Maeve says.

  “Me, too. It’s busy, but everyone seems happy tonight. And with all of us here, it’s been smooth sailing.”

  “That’s what we like to hear.” Tom winks as he joins Keegan at the taps. “And hello to you, Cameron.”

  I turn to see Cameron sitting on a stool at the bar. He grins at everyone and nods when Keegan offers him a pint.

  “What are you up to this evening?” I ask him.

  “Enjoying my last night in town for a couple of weeks.”

  “You’re leaving again, then?” Maggie asks as she takes Maeve’s place at the bar. “That sounds about right.”

  Cameron’s blue eyes narrow on Maggie. “You know I always come back.”

  “It’s none of my business, is it?” She turns to Keegan. “I need three pints of Guinness, and I have to go to the kitchen.”

  She hurries away and leaves Cameron looking after her.

  “Why is she so angry with you?” I ask him.

  “She hasn’t said?”

  “No, she doesn’t talk about it.”

  He sighs and looks back toward the kitchen again. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he clenches it shut. “I guess I shouldn’t talk about it either, then.”

  “Well, do something to fix it because neither of you is going anywhere, and Maggie being mad at you forever doesn’t sound fun to me.”

  “It doesn’t sound fun to me either,” he says. “And I’m working on fixing it. You’re bossy, you know that, Izzy?”

  I laugh and take my now-full tray off the bar. “Yeah. I know. Here I go.”

  I make my rounds and drop off drinks. I’ve just wiped off an empty table when two more men sit down at it.

  “Hey, guys, what can I get for you?”

  “Just a couple of beers,” one of them says. When I glance up, I recognize him right away, but I just smile, take the order, and then walk back to the bar. “Keegan?”

  “Yes, love?”

  “Aren’t those two guys at that table the ones you tossed out of here last night?”

  His green eyes narrow as he scans the bar. “They are. I’ll tell them to leave.”

  “Well, they’re polite for now. I’ll keep an eye on them. Maybe last night was just a bad one.”

  Keegan presses his lips together. “If they say or do even one thing that makes you uncomfortable, you come tell me, and I’ll get them out of here.”

  “I can do that.”

  I go about the business of delivering food and drinks and talking with the patrons. The evening goes well, and even the two horrible patrons from last night are polite and friendly.

  “Hey, we’re sorry about last night,” the blond one says. “We were just a little too drunk.”

  “Yeah,” the dark-haired one adds. “We didn’t mean to be assholes. I’m Larry, and this is Scott.”

  “It’s all good, Larry and Scott. Your food should be up. I’ll be back.”

  They nod as I hurry away. Sure enough, their food is ready. Keegan catches my eye as I make my way back through the bar, but I nod as if to reassure him that everything is fine.

  He raises his chin in return.

  We’ve gotten really good at non-verbal communication.

  “Okay, guys, I have an order of wings with fries, and a burger with fries hot out of the kitchen.” I pull ketchup and mustard out of my apron and set them on the table, as well. “What else can I get you?”

  “Your phone number.” Scott winks.

  “Haha. What can I get you from the kitchen?”

  “This looks good,” Larry says, and the boys dig into their food.

  When I walk up to the bar, Keegan gestures to them. “Everything still good there?”

  “Yep, just normal flirtation. And they apologized for last night.”

  “Good.” He wipes the bar and sends me a heated look. “It’s easy to flirt with you. You look damn good tonight, love.”

  I toss my ponytail over my shoulder. “S
o nice of you to notice.”

  He laughs, and I saunter away with an extra spring in my step. I stop at Larry and Scott’s table to check in with them.

  “How’s it tasting over here?”

  “Great,” Scott says, and I notice his eyes drop to my boobs. “I bet those taste good, too.”

  Larry scoffs at his friend. “Good one, man.”

  “Don’t ruin this,” I say. “You’ll just piss everyone off again and get thrown out. There’s no need for that.”

  Scott rolls his eyes, and I turn to leave, but suddenly, he grabs my wrist and tugs me onto his lap.

  “Hey!”

  “I didn’t say you could walk away from me.” His hand gropes my breast, his beer-laden breath hot on my cheek as he says, “I’m paying you to be nice to me, you stupid bitch.”

  “Fuck y—”

  Strong arms pull me out of the asshole’s lap. I glance up to see Cameron, his steely blue eyes hard on Scott as Keegan grabs the man by his shirt and yanks him out of the chair.

  “Outside, you piece of rubbish,” Keegan growls and hurries out the front door as Scott flails about and yells for Larry.

  Cameron and I, along with Maeve and Maggie, hurry after them. Just as I round the corner of the building, I see Keegan bury his fist in Scott’s face.

  “You think it’s okay to touch women like that?” He hits him again.

  “Fuck you,” Scott growls.

  “You’re probably a fucking rapist.” Keegan plants his knee in Scott’s stomach.

  “She asked for it,” Scott wheezes.

  “Someone needs to teach you a goddamn lesson.” Again, Keegan’s fist connects with Scott’s face. Over and over, until blood runs from his nose and trickles from the side of his mouth.

  I look up at Cameron. “Aren’t you going to stop this?”

  “Hell, no, that prick deserves it.”

  I don’t know if I should feel scared, amused, or turned on.

  “I’m going to fucking sue you, asshole,” Scott says.

  “Do it.” Keegan’s nose is millimeters from Scott’s. “Fucking do it. I bet you have sexual assault charges the length of my arm against you, you wanker. And where’s your friend now?”

  We all look around, and I see Larry walking quickly down the street. He jumps in a car and zooms away.

  “He just left,” I call out.

  “If you ever touch any woman like that again, I’ll be there, and you’ll get it worse than this. If you ever make her or anyone else uncomfortable again, I’ll fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Jesus, man, just stop the macho bullshit,” Cameron warns him. “In case you missed it, you lost.”

  “I’ll rape her, and then I’ll fuck her pretty little mouth,” Scott says.

  Keegan rears back and plants his elbow square in the middle of Scott’s face, knocking the other man out. He lets him fall to the ground.

  “Should I call an ambulance?” Maeve asks.

  “No,” Keegan replies.

  “Probably,” Cameron counters.

  As he walks over to me, I see that his knuckles are bleeding. “Are you okay?”

  “Me? I’m fine. You’re the one bleeding. Jesus, Keegan.”

  “He thought he could touch what’s mine, and I assured him that wasn’t the case.”

  Holy hell. “Yes, you did.”

  The last words Scott said sit in my brain like acid. How can people think that saying shit like that is okay?

  “Did he think he sounded badass talking that way?” I wonder aloud as we file back inside. “Like, are there girls out there who would find that sexy?”

  “He doesn’t care what they think,” Cameron says. “He doesn’t respect women at all. Or anyone, really.”

  Maeve walks in behind us, putting away her phone. “I called an ambulance for him, but I’ll be damned if I wait out there. I hope you didn’t kill him, Keegan.”

  “I didn’t,” he insists as he presses a towel filled with ice against his knuckles. “I know where I’m hitting.”

  “Do you think he’ll really sue you?” I ask.

  “I don’t fucking care if he does,” Keegan says and then reaches out to drag his fingers down my cheek. “When I saw his hands on you, and you fighting to get away, I saw red.”

  “I guess so. Let’s finish work and talk about it later.”

  I can see that he wants to pull me to him, and I know that we’ll have to talk this through later. I can’t have Keegan beating up every man who says something inappropriate.

  But Scott took it way past inappropriate and into assault.

  And that’s what I tell the cops when they arrive with the ambulance.

  “And you have witnesses?” the cop asks.

  “I have a bar full,” I assure him. “He was awful, and once outside, threatened to rape me.”

  He sighs. “He’s had other complaints filed against him. When the hospital’s done with him, I’ll book him—if you want to press charges.”

  “Yes.” I raise my chin and look him in the eyes. “I want to press all the charges. He can’t do this to anyone else.”

  “Good.” The cop smiles. “Very good.”

  When I return to work, the pep has left my step, and the adrenaline is gone, leaving me a little shaky and a lot tired. But I’ll be damned if I let another man like Troy or Scott ruin my day or make me run away and hide.

  I’m a bit more careful in my flirtation with the customers, and I certainly don’t touch anyone in greeting. But I paste a smile on my face and get through the rest of the night just fine, holding it together until I can go upstairs with Keegan and see to his knuckles.

  It’s my turn to take care of him.

  Chapter 12

  ~Izzy~

  “Your knuckles look sore,” I say the next morning as I help Keegan with the morning delivery. It’s been a couple of days since the incident in the pub. Keegan didn’t want me to clean up his knuckles for him. He just needed me.

  And that didn’t include sex. He wanted to hold me, to make sure I was safe and sound, all night.

  And I was happy to be with him.

  I don’t know that I’ve felt so cherished and respected before.

  But I wish he’d let me tend to the open cuts on his hand.

  “They’re not too bad.”

  I prop my hands on my hips. “I understand that you don’t want me to make a big deal of it, but you don’t get to lie to me about it either.”

  He glances up from his invoice and arches an eyebrow. “Okay, they hurt like a bitch, is that what you’re wanting to hear, Isabella?”

  “Yes, actually, if it’s the truth.”

  “There’s no need to make a fuss.” He sets the invoice on a box and glances around. “I don’t know where I put the box cutter. I’ll be right back.”

  He wanders out of the room, and I reach for the invoice. I quickly glance down the page and frown when he walks back into the room, box cutter in hand.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “This must be a mistake. It says that you ordered five gallons of orange juice.”

  “No, that’s right.”

  “I just dumped two gallons the other day because they’d gone bad, and we had like three more in the fridge.”

  “We order five gallons every week.”

  “But we don’t use them. And it says you bought two cases of vodka, but there’s still a lot of vodka out there under the bar. This is an Irish pub. People come here for Guinness and Irish whiskey.”

  “I know what kind of pub it is, love.”

  “I’m just saying that you didn’t have to order this much stuff. We don’t sell that many OJ drinks in a week.”

  “We have the standard order every week.”

  “There’s at least a thousand-dollars-worth of liquor and other non-essentials that we won’t use—or could have waited on for a week, Keegan.”

  “So now you know how to run a pub, then?” He folds hi
s arms over his chest.

  “No, not at all. But I minored in business in college, and I know my way around an invoice.”

  He rubs his hand over his mouth in agitation, and I don’t understand why he’s being so defensive about this. I’m just trying to help. To save him some money.

  “I think you should stick to waiting tables and leave the bar ownership to me.”

  I purse my lips so I don’t say something I’ll regret later. I don’t have to be here. I came to help him out, the way I’ve done for the past few weeks.

  But I think it’s best if I just go ahead and leave for a bit. I reach for my purse, set the invoice on a box, and turn to go.

  But before I walk through the door, I turn back to him. “You know, it’s kind of refreshing to know that you’re not perfect, after all.”

  I let the door shut harder than needed behind me and march down the hall toward the front of the pub. Just as I pass the kitchen and glance inside, I see Fiona rubbing her shoulder.

  “Are you okay, Fiona?”

  “Oh, yes. This darn shoulder’s been giving me fits. I must be lifting too much around here lately. I’ll take something and be just fine.”

  I nod. “Okay, well, Keegan’s in the storeroom if you need him. I’m going to head home for a bit.”

  “See you later, dear.”

  I may be pissed off at her son, but that’s no reason to be unkind to Fiona. She might be the nicest person on Earth.

  I’d parked my little car in front of the pub, so I hop in and hurry to Maggie’s house. I still don’t consider it home, even though Maggie’s done nothing but make me feel welcome. Probably because I spend more time at Keegan’s than I do here at Maggie’s.

  I cut the engine and stomp up the porch steps. When I get inside, I let my bag fall to the floor.

  Maggie looks up from the book she’s reading. “Hi there.”

  “Your brother is a jerk.”

  She sets the book aside and smiles. “Oh, for sure. Yeah. What did he do?”

  “I mean, I was not trying to be bossy. I was only pointing some stuff out to him. Because I want to help, you know?”

  “You’re not making a lot of sense, but I’m with you, girl. Tell me more.”