Best Of My Love (Home to Green Valley Book 4) (3 page)

How could she not love working for them? She’d stepped into a terrific job when she’d answered the ad they’d put in the newspaper.

Who still put ads in newspapers? That alone had been enough to intrigue her. It had been a good move on her part, calling them up.

Sure, she’d once hoped for more. The first time she’d seen Riley, she’d dreamed he’d fall madly in love with her and they’d live happily-ever-after.

It had been too much to hope for, of course, but even if she and Riley remained just friends, she’d be thankful for his presence in her life.

* * *

“Two drafts, please, dear,” Sean grinned.

“Watch who you’re calling ‘dear’,” Rob joked.

At least, Erica thought he was joking. He sounded as though he was. He didn’t look completely amused, though. He looked jealous.

“
Dear
,” Erica said, smirking at Rob, “Sean signs my checks. He can call me almost anything he wants.” She fixed Sean with a stare. “Almost.”

“No offense intended,” Sean said, grinning at Rob before taking the beers to a table.

“I don’t like the way they talk to you around here,” Rob grumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“Calling you ‘dear’ and ‘love’ and all that. I’m sure it flies in Ireland, but not here.”

“Rob, they don’t mean anything by it. They’re all good guys. You’re here enough to know that. They don’t mean anything negative by it. Believe me, I’ve heard worse than that—not from them, but from customers. And they make sure those customers never come back.”

“Don’t be so easily fooled,” Rob advised in a sanctimonious tone Erica was quickly tiring of. “Just because they’re protective of you doesn’t give them the right to call you whatever they want.”

Some people took one Women’s Studies course and thought they were experts.

“You’re right.
I’m
the one who gives them the right to call me what they want, and I think it’s okay that they call me by little endearments. It’s cute. I don’t mind. I like it.”

“
I
don’t like it.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t come in every time I’m working; then you won’t hear it.” An icy silence settled between them. She wouldn’t have argued with him about it in the past. What was so different, all of a sudden? She used to think his possessiveness was sort of cute. Now it irked her to no end.

“Do you not want me here?” Rob asked. The fight was gone from his voice.

“I didn’t say that. I don’t want you to be here if it bothers you, the way they talk to me. It doesn’t bother me, so I won’t tell them to stop. And if you want me to, maybe you need to reconsider the way you think about me. Do you see what I’m trying to say?”

She left him for a minute, taking care of two checks. When she returned, there was a look of understanding on his face.

“That was such a jerky thing for me to do,” he said, looking embarrassed. “Here I am, trying to stick up for you, and I sound like a patriarchal pig.”

Erica resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “That’s the long and short of it, yeah. That’s pretty much how you sounded.”

“Ugh, what a jerk. I hate guys like that. I’m sorry.”

She smiled and told him it was all right, but inside, she seethed without understanding why. What was it that suddenly bothered her so much about him? Why did everything he said come off as pretentious. Like he was reciting from a feminist handbook.

What had changed?

She turned around and sighed to herself, knowing exactly what had changed.

She’d thought Riley was out of her heart forever. She’d been sure of it, hadn’t she?

He’d left. She’d started seeing Rob. End of story. Riley would move on—not that he had to move on, since they were never actually together. They’d never even kissed, never had a moment that seemed as though it might lead to a kiss. They were practically siblings.

So how had he managed to ruin her for all other men, even men who tried as hard as they could to make her happy, the way Rob did? Why wasn’t Rob good enough, when he’d been more than good enough just a day earlier?

Damn you, Riley, she thought, pouring a drink for customer but wishing she could drink it herself.

Chapter Three

“Look who it is! One of the O’Neill boys!”

Riley grinned at the owner of
The Twisted Cork
, a small bar just down the block from
The Stylish Irish
.

“I thought you were in Ireland,” Pete Flaherty said, waving Riley toward a stool at the bar. Like the pub, the Cork was just starting to pick up for the evening, and the place was still rather slow.

“Just got back yesterday.”

“And you’re here, instead of to your own restaurant? Shameful.” Pete clucked his tongue, and Riley chuckled.

“Checking out the competition, don’t you know.” Riley raised a pint glass which had been conveniently slid his way when he sat.

“How was the old country? It’s been how many decades since I stepped foot on its emerald shores.” The older man let out a mournful sigh.

“Beautiful as always, and rather rainy as always.” Riley winked.

“Aye, that sounds about right. It’s a comfort, knowing how little has changed.”

“You’re not missing so much, though I don’t know why you don’t go back there yourself. If only for a small holiday. You’re always talking about how you want to go.”

“I know, I know. It seems there’s always something in the way.”

“Don’t keep making excuses, or soon you’ll have no excuses left.”

“Such wisdom, at such a young age. So you always go after what you want, eh? Without fear of the repercussions?”

Riley stared at his drink. “Not always. And that’s left me with some regret, Pete.”

“Ah. I can see that, you looking so glum and all. That why you’re here? To be glum outside of sight of your brothers?”

Riley lifted his drink and took a long swallow. “Just needed a change of pace, nothing more, Pete.”

“Nothing wrong with that. And how’s business treating you?”

“You’d know for yourself, if you’d ever step foot in the place.”

Pete ran a hand through his snow-white hair, chuckling. “I’ve more than enough to do here. Besides, I’ve taken a look inside once or twice.”

“So you know, then, that we’re doing just as well as ever. Not taking business away from you, I should hope.”

Pete filled two more pint glasses for new customers. “Not at all. The beauty of having a different specialty.” He pointed to the wall behind him, which encased five dozen bottles of wine on tap. He dealt mostly in wine, whereas
The Stylish Irish
mostly handled beers and whiskeys.

“Riley!” A woman called out from behind him.

He turned and grinned at the beautiful redhead.

“Welcome back,” Shannon, Pete’s daughter, said.

The old man had waited until rather late in life to settle down, and Shannon was roughly Riley’s age. While her father was around, she was quiet, standoffish, only stopping to say hello before she carried a tray of drinks to a table. For the sake of her father, he kept his eyes away from her ass as she crossed the room.

There was something to be said for being a free man, and from the eyes Shannon made at him, it didn’t appear he’d have to be alone for long. Something inside him felt immensely satisfied, especially since he was still a little sore over seeing Erica with her boyfriend yesterday.

Boyfriend. Ha! The guy looked like some sort of mooning, puppy-eyed loser who would follow her around like a lovesick animal. She didn’t need a man like that. She needed a man with energy, vitality, someone who could sweep her off her feet and leave her gasping for breath. Somebody like
him
.

He clenched his jaw, cursing himself for still wanting to ask her out. She wasn’t worth the complications or Rob trying to wipe the floor with him. Riley would only humiliate the fool, and possibly lose his bartender in the process. She was a good bartender, too. His brothers all liked her. If she left, it would be his fault for fighting with her boyfriend and causing issues. He’d never hear the end of it.

No, best to leave her to her own devices and pay more attention to the cute little redhead eyeing him up like dessert. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

“I’ve got to get back to the office. I’m glad you stopped in, for sure. Say hello to your brothers for me,” Pete said, shaking Riley’s hand. “Glad to have you home.”

“Glad to be back,” Riley replied, quite sincerely.

No sooner had Pete gone into the kitchen than Shannon approached the bar. “So, Ireland was grand, yeah?” Shannon asked, imitating her father’s accent. Thirty years and he still hadn’t lost it entirely.

“’twas,” Riley replied, making her giggle.

“I’m glad you’re back. It’s so boring around here while you’re not around.”

“Please. Like you don’t have a million guys in here every week. You can take your pick, Miss Shannon Flaherty.”

“Not the same, Mr. Riley O’Neill. And you know it. Besides, Dad would have my head on a spike if he knew I was messing around.”

Riley nodded sagely, knowing how religious Pete was. Though he was a man of the world and ran an establishment in which people met and dated all the time, Pete would never accept his only daughter “running around” with men.

Shannon had a few free minutes, and Riley shared stories of his friends back home. She’d never been to Ireland, but had heard all about it from the day she was born. Her father would always consider it his home. Riley was happy to give her a more updated view of the country.

“Next time you go, perhaps you’ll want company,” Shannon hinted.

Riley let the hint roll off his back—it was always like that, with her dropping hints and him letting them hit the floor. Hers wouldn’t be the only head on a spike if Pete ever caught them together. Pete laughed with Riley about the attention he got from women, but would never accept his daughter being one of those women.

“You should make it a point to go some time,” Riley said. “Find out where your people come from.”

“I’d rather go with you. Get an insider’s view.” She was stubborn, this girl.

He smiled smoothly.

“We’ll see,” he said, then was glad when she was called away to assist a customer.

She’d reminded him of something very important, for which he was grateful. Women were complicated creatures, and often, without even realizing what they were doing, were looking to trap a man when he least expected it. They put on a good show, enticing a sucker into their web before attacking him. Most of the time, the idiot never even saw it coming. He’d think he was the one in charge, while the woman controlled things all along.

It had never happened to him personally. His friends and brothers had been ensnared, though, one after the other. Quinn had fallen for Lilly the day he’d arrived in America last fall. Afterward, Conor and Madlyn had met and, after a whirlwind romance, had moved in together. Brady and Anna were so in love it was ridiculous. Even Sean had fallen for his college English professor. Granted, he hadn’t yet established a personal relationship with her, but Riley knew that would be happening soon if his brother had his way; the guy was only biding his time until his class with Professor Juliana Madison was over.

Riley raised his glass in a salute to his absent brothers. He adored Lilly, Maddie, and Anna, and he’d probably be crazy about Sean’s Juliana. But it wasn’t to be for him. Erica hooking up with Rob while he’d been gone was a wake-up call. Riley had thought there was something special in the works for them but he’d obviously been wrong.

“You doing anything tonight?” Shannon asked, a knowing grin on her face.

He considered it, but in the end he had too much respect for Pete, and too little interest in Shannon, to take things further. Plus, despite the firm talking to he’d had with himself just seconds ago, he couldn’t shake the image of another face firmly implanted in his mind. One with a cloud of honey blonde hair all around it.

“I’m bushed,” he said, quite honestly. “Jet lagged. I’m no use to anyone right now.” He left just enough suggestion in his voice to make clear what he really meant.

“Understood,” she said, shrugging it off. She was a game girl, at least. “Maybe next time.” She hurried off, the crowd getting bigger by the minute.

Yeah. Maybe next time.

He left, then, walking toward
The Stylish
Irish. The night air was fresh and clean, carrying with it the scent of burning leaves. A fire pit, maybe, in the backyard of one of the homes not far away. They all had things like that in their yards, fire pits and pools and such. Quite a far cry from Dublin, and the difference only seemed greater after his visit.

He glanced at the parking lot as he got to the restaurant, prepared to walk by and head to his cottage about a mile down the road, but the absence of Erica’s car gave him pause. He ducked into the kitchen through the back door.

“Hey, what’s up?” Brady said when he saw him. “I thought you were taking today off before you started again.”