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

Trying not to get pissed at the way she was talking about herself, Booker slowly grabbed her under her armpits and knew he was going to have to use tough love to get her into the car and away from the spectacle that was on the verge of happening.
 

He lowered himself so he was speaking directly into her ear. “Now Fiona, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. You can act like a civilized adult and walk the fifty feet to the car while smiling and putting on a good show, or I can strap you over my shoulder and walk you out myself. Take your pick.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she snarled at him, but with a smile.
 

Jesus, he was going to have to carry her out of here over his shoulder. The thought of him doing that didn’t bother him all that much, it was how Fiona would think of his actions the next day that was preventing him from going all caveman on her.
 

“I would and I would do it with your dress flipped up so everyone could see that fantastic light yellow thong you have on.”

“I took it off, showed too many panty lines.”

Booker gulped at the thought of Fiona being completely naked under her dress, he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra because of the way the dress fell over her chest, but underpants too? Was she trying to kill him? His cock surged to attention at the picture she just painted in his mind.
 

So, to prove a point, Booker discreetly grabbed her hand and pressed it up against his now-extremely-hard crotch. Her little brown eyes shot to attention at the hardness she was feeling.
 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh is right,” he said. “So get your gorgeous ass to the car so I can teach you a lesson.”

She smiled seductively and took off toward the back as he followed closely, very closely, behind her. He was going to teach her a very good lesson in the car and then have an extremely long conversation in the morning about their life together, because hell if he was going to one, let her think she’s not good enough to be in the spotlight with him and two, allow her to check out like she did tonight.
 

***

Finn sat at the dining room table in The Sleeping Potato, his parents’ Bed and Breakfast, watching his family, minus Fiona, talk about the upcoming storm that was approaching any day. The whole conversation was actually beyond boring and the only thing keeping it somewhat alive was the lovely Irish banter Finn’s parents were having.
 

“Carlin Patrick O’Leary, what did I say about eatin’ too much meat? Ya’re goin’ die of a heart attack at the ripe age of sixty if ya keep shovin’ ya trap with those bangers.”
 

Finn’s dad, Carlin, waved his hand in dismissal at his ever-nagging wife.
 

“Tis a loud flappin’ trap ya have there, Mary Margaret. Why don’t ya try sewing it up for a second and give us lads a chance to enjoy our meal.”

It was as if a tea kettle was going off in Mary Margaret’s head because steam was flying out of every orifice of her body. The shitty conversation about the weather that was transpiring between Finn’s brothers, Liam and Bradon, completely ceased and all eyes were watching Mary Margaret’s next move. The room fell dead silent as the boys got ready for an old Irish showdown.
 

Technically, the head of the O’Leary family was Carlin, their dad, but if you asked the kids individually, they would all say Mary Margaret was the one who wore the pants in the family. You didn’t mess with her. She might be a little old redhead with white frilly aprons and an accent that could melt the butter on a baked potato, but she meant business and when she told you to do something, you did it or else you feared for your damn life.
 

Right now, all three O’Leary sons feared for their dad’s life.
 

“Is that how ya feel, Carlin? Aye, well, I’ll be on me way. Boys, ya can thank ya da for puttin’ ya on clean up duty. I’ll be off now.”

And with that, Mary Margaret left her plate of unfished food on the table, took her apron off, and tossed it on the chair she vacated. Her little, round, Irish frame took off toward the stairs that led to the bedroom that she normally shared with their dad, but at the moment, Finn was thinking his dad would be taking up residence on the couch.
 

“Good going, Da, you just pissed the chips on that one,” Bradon, the youngest of the O’Leary boys, said.
 

Carlin raised his fork at Bradon and said, “Watch it, boy.”

Liam, the proper big brother and oldest son, stepped in and said, “Ma has a point. You can’t be eating all that cholesterol-laced meat after what the doctor said.”

“That quack is an eejit. He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about.” Carlin took another banger off the plate in the center of the table and practically swallowed it whole.
 

Tension in the O’Leary family had been high, and not just because of the health report their dad received. Fiona, Finn’s true confidant in the family, had been gone for a couple of months now, living in California with her boyfriend Booker and everyone was missing her. The stress at the pub the O’Leary kids co-owned had been at an all-time high since they were down Fiona and hadn’t quite found a proper replacement. Fiona’s best friend, Tipper, had been pitching in, but she clashed heads with Bradon every chance they got.
 

Liam was in a constant battle to win back his marriage, but was doing a piss as fuck job at it. Neala, his now ex-wife, left him a couple of months ago and signed the divorce papers, claiming joint custody of their darling girl, Catherine. Liam was not happy about it at all because, after some deep soul searching, he realized he didn’t want to give up on his marriage. He loved Neala and he wanted to be with her.
 

And then there was Finn. He was probably the most screwed up out of all the O’Learys because he was in love with a girl who lived clear across the United States. She had no intention of moving to Warblers Point, which he didn’t blame her for, but it’s not like he could drop everything and move out to California like Fiona did. If Finn left, the pub would be in serious trouble, especially since it was the best local place to show up for a good jar of brew.
 

Blaire, Booker’s sister of course, was going to be the death of Finn. He was a moron, muppet, eejit, whatever you wanted to call him for losing his shit a couple of months ago on Blaire. He shouldn’t have let his sister’s relationship with the oh-so-famous Booker James get in the way of his relationship with Blaire. That was probably one of the biggest mistakes of his life, his second was fleeing to Sophie for comfort when he should have gone straight to Blaire’s cabin to work everything out and his third was not chasing after Blaire right away.
 

Now he didn’t have Blaire in his life and his relationship with Sophie, who used to be one of his best friends, was beyond awkward. Talk about cutting the tension with a knife. After the scene Liam and Finn put on the for the small town of Warblers Point out in Sophie’s front yard, both claiming wanting nothing to do with her, she barely talked to them or even looked at them. Talk about pissing the chips!

Carlin wiped his face and pointed to the plates. “Take care of these. I need to go make up with ya ma.” Carlin wiggled his eyebrows and all the boys groaned as they watched their stubborn, old coot of a dad leap like a little leprechaun up the stairs to his brooding wife.
 

“Well, I’m off,” Bradon said, while tossing his napkin at his plate. “I have a date with a hot blonde who’s in town for a week and needs someone to show her around. God bless the tourist season.”

Bradon was the man-whore of the family and lived for tourist season in Warblers Point, where everyone came to get their skiing in for the season. It was the one time of the year that Warblers Point felt like a metropolis. Bradon was infamous for showing the female tourists a good time and sending them on their way. Commitment isn’t a word in his vocabulary.
 

“Hell if you’re going to stick us with the dishes,” Liam said.
 

“If you asshats want help at the pub tomorrow, and I know you need it, then you better put your rubber gloves on and start scrubbing, because I’m out.”

“You’re a dick,” Liam said, as Bradon laughed and left Finn and Liam to clean up the mess in front of them.
 

“Might as well get started,” Finn said, as he grabbed his mom’s apron, wrapped it around his body and tied it in place. “How do I look?” Finn asked, while doing a curtsy.
 

Liam threw his head back and laughed. “Looks like Booker might have to give up his Shelia nickname to you.”

“Nah, that boy will always be a Sheila. He’s too damn pretty to be anything else.”

“Yeah, who would have thought our sister would end up with a pretty-boy after being surrounded by brooding Irishmen her whole life.”

Liam piled all the white plates with food remnants on top of each other and carried them like a pro to the kitchen. It was a move they did in the pub every night, but if Mary Margaret saw the way Liam was balancing her dishes, like a circus act, she would be screaming her head off.
 

There were a few things you didn’t mess with when it came to Mary Margaret. Don’t mess with her family, her cooking, or her blessed china. Liam was just asking for trouble.
 

Instead of following in his brother’s footsteps, Finn pulled the bottom of the frilly white apron up and started stacking the dirty dishes and condiments in the little cloth tray he had made for himself. Why take multiple trips when you can do it all in one?

He followed his brother through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room and started unloading the apron. Liam already had a sink full of water and soap going, so Finn slipped the plates into the bubbly water.
 

“Have you heard from Fiona lately?” Liam asked, as he started scrubbing away on Mary Margaret’s fine china. She always made an attempt to set a nice table, even if they had breakfast for dinner, which was the case tonight. She had leftovers from the morning breakfast and, in an Irish family, leftovers never go to waste.

At least they didn’t have “Irish Stew.” That was when Mary Margaret was feeling spiteful and boiled all the leftovers together and slapped the mish mosh of flavors on your plate and expected you to eat it like a pig eating slop. Irish Stew nights as a kid were dreaded and they all made sure to stock up on snacks when they saw the big stew pot boiling.
 

“Yeah, she was heading over to Booker’s premier tonight. She didn’t sound all that good; I didn’t want to bring it up at dinner, since her move hasn’t been received very well by Ma and Da and they would do anything to get her back, but I’m worried.”

“I thought they were buying a house out here. Wasn’t that the plan?”

“It was, until the Sheila was harassed about his movie that was just released. He had a lot of promotions and whatnot to do for it, so they decided to stay out in California longer. Fiona gets to work on her photography, but she was telling me today, there are only so many palm trees she can take pictures of.” Finn was silent for a second, but then continued once he gathered himself. “She’s been hanging out with Blaire a lot.”

That news got Liam to pick his head up from scrubbing the dishes and look over at his brother.
 

“How do you feel about that?”

Finn didn’t really know how he felt about Fiona’s relationship with Blaire. He knew Fiona needed friends out there and was grateful that she had Blaire, but hearing all about Blaire from Fiona and what they did when they hung out only pained Finn. He missed Blaire so damn much.
 

“I guess as long as Fiona says good things about me, I’m okay with it.”

“You’re screwed then,” Liam said jokingly.
 

Even though his brother was joking around, Finn couldn’t help but agree with Liam. He was screwed because, even though he had a short relationship with Blaire, he couldn’t get her out of his mind and he needed her in his life. There was an aching hole that was growing deeper and deeper every day he had no contact with Blaire.
 

Damn, he really is a Sheila.
 

Chapter 2

Sophie sat nervously at one of the tables in her bakery as she waited for Murphy to join her. Her shop was closed for the day, thankfully, because she didn’t want to deal with one more customer. She thought Warblers Point was going to be a great move for her, to be back where she grew up, where people knew who she was, but boy was she wrong.
 

All moving back to Warblers Point did for her was put her in the middle of the twisted gossip the small town thrived on. Everyone was in each other’s business and, frankly, she was getting tired of it.
 

When she first moved back, she was welcomed back with open arms. She was well-liked, accepted, and nothing bad was ever said about her, but then came Neala.
 

That Bitch.
 

Sophie never swore, but she disobeyed her own rules where Neala was concerned.
 

She’d ruined everything. If it wasn’t for Neala, she never would have been gossiped around town as the town trollop, she never would have given in to both Liam and Finn, and she never would have found herself in her short silky robe, outside her house watching Finn and Liam fight in her front yard, basically treating her like trash…like she never mattered to them. She had never been more humiliated in her life.