Beers, Lies and Alibis (Warblers Point Series Book 2) (17 page)

The pub was open, but not packed by any means, due to the storm that was brewing. Finn was grateful for the slow night because Raff was coming in and they needed to train him as soon as possible so Finn, Liam and Bradon could start rebuilding The Sleeping Potato.
 

The fire couldn’t have come at a worse time. It was dead in the middle of their high season, when all the tourists flee to Vermont to get their ski on and Warblers Point was the perfect destination for any level of skier. They had some of the best slopes in the state and The Sleeping Potato was a popular overnight destination. Now that they had to shut the bed and breakfast down for a little while, Finn feared what it might do to his parents’ profits.
 

The boys were optimistic about rebuilding. The only thing that was going to hold them back was the weather, which was going to pound on them for a couple of days, but then clear up. Once the weather was bearable, they were going to go at the renovations like madmen, no matter how cold it might be.
 

“Finn, do we have any more Locke’s Irish Whiskey? I think we might be all out and I don’t think the locals will take too kindly to that,” Tipper said.
 

“I think there’s some down in the cellar. I can get it if you’d like.”

“No, I got it. Just sit your sweet ass on the bar for now and wait for that cousin of yours.” Tipper winked at him and then went to the back where the cellar entrance was.
 

Finn was so grateful for Tipper. If it wasn’t for her, there was no way they’d be staying afloat. Plus, the fact that she actually put up with Bradon’s smart mouth was a Godsend. Finn was unsure how much longer she would help out since she had a business of her own, but right now, he would take as much help as he could get.
 

“Aye, there’s me boy!” A deep and almost hoarse voice called out from the pub opening.
 

Turning around slowly, Finn saw Rafferty O’Leary standing side by side with Bradon. At that moment, Finn wondered if bringing in Raff was such a good idea. By the gleam in their eyes, Finn was thinking, maybe not the best idea he’d ever had, but then again, he would take any help he could get. He reminded himself not to let Fiona know about his doubts about bringing Raff on board because she would never let him hear the end of it.
 

Finn got off his stool and gave Raff a hug. The guy had filled out nicely from his straggly pre-pubescent frame Finn remembered. Raff was born with the O’Leary light blue eyes that Fiona and Finn were always jealous of and he had the dark brown hair that almost every Irishman carried around. He fell into the same category as Bradon: cared about their looks, waxed their chests, and styled their hair to perfection, something Finn and Liam never put too much thought into. Raff and Bradon were pretty boys and Finn feared for the virgins, willing women, and shy ladies that were in Warblers Point because the pretty boys were going to be searching for anything with two breasts and lips at night.
 

“You look good,” Finn said, while patting Raff on the back.
 

“Ah, ya goin’ make me blush.” Raff looked around and said, “This is quite the fine establishment ya have here. I hope ya got some Jameson on tap for me because my mouth will be buried in the sweet nectar of me homeland.”

So not a good idea, Finn thought.
 

Raff busted out in laughter and then pointed at Finn while he talked to Bradon. “Ya catch the ghost-like look that crossed his face? This is goin’ be fun.”

Raff made his way toward the bar, but stopped suddenly when Tipper came through the swinging door of the kitchen carrying two bottles of Locke’s.
 

“Christ, me heart be still,” Raff said, while gripping his chest. “Aren’t you the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen?”

Bradon scoffed as he sat on a bar stool. “Dude, I thought you said you weren’t drunk.”

“I’m not.” Raff just stood next to the bar staring at Tipper. Bradon and Finn stared at Raff and Tipper looked at all three of them as if their dicks were coming out of their noses.
 

“Alright…this is bordering creepy. Who is the deranged dickwad?” Tipper asked, while pointing her thumb in Raff’s direction.
 

Raff stepped forward and held out his hand. “Rafferty O’Leary. It’s a pleasure.”
 

Finn needed to wash his eyes because he swore he almost saw Tipper swoon from the thick accent his cousin laid on while introducing himself. Tipper was never one to swoon. She was incredibly tough and didn’t take shit from anyone.
 

“Tipper Burnett, nice to meet you.”

“Glory be to God, I’ve never seen such a fine specimen like ya before.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bradon said, while getting off his stool and pulling Raff away from Tipper. “Dude, lay off. She eats dicks for breakfast and balls for dinner, by lunch she will have you castrated and begging to be shot in the damn throat to end your misery. Stay away from Tipper and her rat’s nest of a head.”

Raff looked at Bradon as if he was crazy and was about to say something when Tipper cut in. “Don’t listen to him, Rafferty. He has a sore vagina from being fucked too many times by Looker the Street Hooker.”

Raff bellowed with laughter and pointed at Bradon. “Ya have a vageeeeen,” Raff said, carrying out the last part of the word. “Never thought me boy would grow lady parts, when did that happen?”

What Finn liked most about picking on Bradon was that he could dish it out, but once everyone started ganging up on him, he couldn’t take it. He got all butt-hurt and usually stormed off.
 

“You’re a dick,” Bradon said, as he walked into the kitchen with a little bit of a heavy stomp, pulling a classic Bradon of tucking his tail between his legs and walking off.

Typical.
 

Not caring about Bradon’s feelings, Finn, Raff and Tipper all laughed once Bradon was no longer in the room.
 

“When did he become such a pussy?” Raff asked.

“When? He’s always been one,” Tipper said, while drying glasses.
 

Raff looked over at Finn and said, “I think I found me future wife. God Bless Warblers Point.”

They spent the rest of the night going over all of the pub duties from making food, to serving drinks to cleaning up. Raff was a natural and Finn wasn’t sure if it was because he was an O’Leary or if it was because Raff had spent the better part of his life practically living in pubs. Whatever it was, Finn was grateful Raff was around to help out.
 

Now, if only Raff could stay on task while Tipper was around, then he would be the perfect employee. Bradon sulked most of the night, not saying much and sending death glares in Tipper’s direction. Finn knew he was going to have to leave them alone at some point, which he feared because who knew what would happen if Bradon, Tipper and Raff were left alone together? Finn was just grateful that Fiona was going to be in the pub most of the time to run interference, or else who knew what would happen? They might find themselves rebuilding the pub as well. All Finn knew was Raff needed to keep his junk in his pants because they didn’t need Raff chasing Tipper away with his very horny and very flirtatious affections.
 

***

To my dearest Blaire,
 

This is going to be a short one because I have a lot going on, but I will always make time to connect with you. I want you to know that my cousin came in today and the minute he saw Tipper at the pub, he nearly lost his mind with infatuation. It reminded me of the first time I saw you. I knew that I needed to get to know you because you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. To this day, you still are. I hope you know that.
 

You are my forever. I love you.
 

-Finn

Chapter 9

What should have been an easy plane ride to Warblers Point had turned into a complete nightmare for Booker. Luckily, they were able to fly into Albany, but they weren’t able to get very far on the road due to inclement weather. They were in the middle of East Bumblefuck where back roads were major roads and ghost towns were a frequent occurrence.
 

“I can’t see shit,” Booker said, as he tightly gripped the steering wheel of the SUV he was driving. Thankfully, the rental car company had a car available with four wheel drive.
 

The view outside the front window looked as if they were entering light speed due to the car lights bouncing off the heavy falling snow. Booker didn’t spend enough time in the snow to be used to such driving conditions, so he was white-knuckling it the entire drive, just praying they didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere.
 

“Right turn in a quarter mile,” stated Booker’s phone.
 

“We’re almost there,” Keara said, as she held Booker’s phone to help with directions. “I can’t believe how hard the snow is falling.

“Me either and the best part of all of this is, I don’t have any of my clothes.” Booker glanced over at Keara and took a quick glance at her tight shirt. “Shit, all you have is what’s on your back. You’re going to freeze.”

She shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”

Booker pulled into the only motel that was in a thirty mile radius. It didn’t even have a name; it was just called Motel. From the rusty sign and the flickering light, Booker knew he wouldn’t be staying at any five star accommodations tonight.

“I’ll go get us some rooms, be right back,” Booker said, as he put the car in park. He didn’t want Keara having to go out in the cold wearing only her Chicago t-shirt. He knew if she went outside, her nipples would stand at attention and Booker couldn’t take that, not when he’d been exposed to them so many times already. He needed a damn break.
 

As he walked up to the front desk, he thought about how he wound up with a Victoria’s Secret model. Any other man in Booker’s shoes would be thanking the gods up above at having such luck, but not Booker. If Fiona knew he was stuck driving from Albany to Warblers Point with a Victoria’s Secret model, she would most likely break up with him on the spot. She was already self-conscious; he didn’t need to add to her insecurities.
 

A giant man in a stained white tank top with a Hawaiian shirt over it was picking at his teeth with a switchblade while he watched Booker walk up to him. Booker considered himself to be a tough enough guy, but he was crapping his pants as he walked up to the mammoth behind the desk.
 

“Hi, can I get two rooms for the night?” Booker asked, trying to avoid looking at the meat chunk the giant pulled from his teeth.
 

The guy nodded, put the meat chunk back in his mouth and swallowed as he started looking at available keys.
 

“We only have one room left.” Booker would have been upset about the one room comment, but he couldn’t even concentrate because of the high-pitched little girl voice that came out of the behemoth of a man. Steroids much?

Trying not to snort with laughter, Booker said, “I’ll take it.”

Booker paid in cash, grabbed the key from the man and started heading out the door.
 

“It’s to the right, room number three,” the man said, as if he hadn’t quite gone through puberty yet and his balls were still waiting to descend.
 

Booker just nodded his head and exited out the front. He quickly ran to the car as snow pelted him in the face. He loved Warblers Point, but the east coast weather was going to take some time to get used to. His California bones weren’t quite ready for such harsh winters.
 

As Booker pulled around to their room, he told Keara all about the man at the front desk. They were both laughing hysterically as they pulled up to their room and ran quickly to the door. Keara danced next to him, trying to keep warm and laughing about Mr. Front Desk as Booker opened the door.
 

They both pushed in and stopped in their tracks when they saw the room only had one bed and it was probably the smallest “full size” bed Booker had ever seen. He was so screwed.
 

“Well, this will be interesting,” Keara said, as she shut the door behind them and sat on the bed. She bounced up and down on it, testing the mattress. She might have been trying to see how the bed was going to sleep, but good God, was she giving Booker a show.
 

Turning away, Booker said, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, is that right?” Keara said sarcastically. “Have you checked out the puke stains that will be accompanying your slumber on the floor?”

Booker looked down and almost added to the stains that were caressing the worn out teal carpets.
 

“Or not.” Booker ran his hand through his hair as he looked at the small bed. “Shit.”

“Listen, Booker. We’re both adults, we know our boundaries, everything will be okay. You take the top sheet, I’ll take the bottom. We’ll be fine.” She patted his face and started walking toward the bathroom. “I need to take a shower.”

Booker sat on the very uncomfortable bed and contemplated how many times the room he was in had been rented by the hour. He wanted to call Fiona to see how she was doing and just to hear her voice, but he knew it was too late to be calling her. It was already past midnight and, if he was going to be honest, he was tired as hell.