“Very happy, hmmm? And how do you propose to do that?” she asked.
Before Joe could respond, Yvonne, who was carrying a tray of empty drinks slipped on a wet spot on the floor near their booth. While she didn’t fall, several of the glasses on the tray tipped over and half a glass of water splashed down Emmy’s left side.
Yvonne gasped. “Oh my God, Emmy! I’m so sorry.”
Emmy laughed, brushing off as much of the wetness as she could with her hand. “It’s okay, Vonnie. It’s only water.”
“Let me get a towel.”
Emmy waved her off. “No. I’m just going to pop into the restroom and grab some paper towels to dry off. Excuse me for just a moment, Joe.”
“When you get back, what do you say we hit the dance floor?”
“I’d love that.”
She stood and made her way across the room. As she did so, she felt Padraig’s gaze following her. Before entering the restroom, she glanced back and saw him delivering their drinks to the table, then kneeling to wipe up Yvonne’s spill.
He and Joe conversed amicably, and she sighed.
So much for the jealousy theory.
“Hey, thanks,” Joe said as Padraig placed the drinks on their table.
“You two having a good time?” Padraig asked, fighting hard to be friendly as he bent down to wipe up the spilled water. He liked Joe. He really did. He just hated his guts at the moment.
“Yeah. Emmy’s a sweetheart. Pretty as hell too. Can’t believe a woman like her is still single.”
Padraig nodded but didn’t reply. Because it was on the tip of his tongue to tell Joe she wasn’t single. But he figured he should drop that bomb on Emmy first.
In truth, he hadn’t come over here to make small talk with Joe. His intention was distraction. “Hey, I wanted to let you know Aunt Riley has a buffet of appetizers set up on Sunday’s Side. She just brought out a big platter of potato skins.”
Joe’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah? I might head over and grab a plateful for me and Em. Thanks.”
Padraig pasted on a fake smile, trying not to lose his cool over Joe calling her Em—who the fuck did this guy think he was?—and pretended to head back to the bar as Joe took off in the direction of the buffet table.
However, instead of returning to his station, Padraig detoured to the hallway that led to the restrooms. He didn’t have long to wait before Emmy emerged.
“Hey, Paddy,” she said when she saw him there. “Looks like everything is going great with the soft opening. Does this mean the pub is ready to open for business?”
He nodded, even less willing to make small talk with her than he’d been with Joe. “Yeah, it does. So about you and Joe Moretti—” he started.
She grinned. “Looks like third time’s a charm. After the failed coffee and happy-hour dates, I’m relieved to say this one is a success so far.”
“You know Joe lives in Philadelphia.” He didn’t have a clue why he spouted that nonsense. It wasn’t what he’d intended to say at all. Of course, after watching her and Joe flirt all night, his ability to think and reason beyond that of a caveman was completely gone. At this point, he was surprised he hadn’t fashioned himself a club out of one of Aunt Riley’s baguettes and attempted to drag Emmy out of the pub by her hair.
“I know where he lives. So?” she prompted, no doubt confused by his ridiculous statement.
“Long-distance relationships are hard.”
Her eyes widened with amusement. “Oh my God. It’s just one date. Way too soon to start labeling it a relationship.”
“Good.”
She tilted her head. “Is it?”
“You need to be careful. The guy’s a player, Em.”
Emmy leaned closer. So close, he caught a whiff of the apple scent in her hair. His dick twitched. Jesus, he was definitely a goner if he got a hard-on from just smelling her shampoo.
Her lips were near his ear when she said quietly, “I don’t have a problem with Joey’s reputation because I’m hoping he’ll want to play with me. It’s been a long, painful dry spell, Paddy. My girlie bits are screaming at me.”
She laughed, but the sound was cut short when he didn’t join in. In fact, her forehead creased in confusion, and he could only assume he’d taken her off guard with his angry scowl.
“You’re not playing with Joe Moretti,” he said darkly.
“Excuse me?” she asked, a tinge of disbelief—and annoyance—in her voice. He’d never seen her annoyed before. Hell, he’d never seen Emmy lose her temper or become angry either. The woman was as peaceful and easygoing as a Sunday morning.
“Hey, there you are,” Joe said, stepping next to Padraig. “Bribed Hunter with a beer to play a slow song for us. Gives me an excuse to wrap my arms around you.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I don’t know. Your sister has warned me about you. Not sure dancing is a safe activity for us.”
Joe grinned wickedly. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”
“You sure you want to make that promise? A perfect gentleman would behave appropriately, keeping his hands on my waist.”
He seemed to consider that, then reached out to her. “Lots of gray area there,” he joked.
She shook her head, giggling. “No, there’s not.”
“Appropriate means different things to different people, Em. As a writer, I think you’d understand the nuances of words.” Joe, the asshole, backed his comment up with a wink that had Padraig clenching his fist.
“That is the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard, Joey,” she said.
“Thought I told you to call me Joe, gorgeous. As in, you’re a god, Joe. And yes, Joe. More.”
Emmy’s laugh was husky, flat-out sexy. Padraig wasn’t sure where this flirtatious woman had come from, but he sure as fuck didn’t like it…directed at someone who wasn’t him.
“Em,” Padraig said, but Emmy’s attention was firmly on Joe.
“How about, you’re incorrigible, Joey?” she teased.
“Call me Joey one more time and I’ll have to punish you.”
“Promises, promises,” she said in pure minx fashion, lightly slapping Joe’s cheek.
Jesus. Christ.
Padraig wanted her. Bad.
“Come on. Let’s dance,” she said, placing her hand in Joe’s and letting him lead her away from Padraig and onto the dance floor.
Padraig cursed himself up one side and down the other for not saying what he’d pulled her aside to say. For not getting her the fuck away from Joe.
“Seriously, bro,” Colm said, sidling up to him. “You gonna let Moretti steal your girl right out from under your nose?”
“Haven’t exactly told her she’s my girl yet, have I?”
“Having second thoughts?” Colm asked.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Colm’s wide smile proved he liked that answer. “Good. But I’ve gotta tell you, the rest of the family is starting to get antsy. You need to put them out of their misery. Pop Pop is fit to be tied. That Joe Moretti is a good-looking bastard. If you’re making your move, make it fast. I told Dad I’d tend bar with him the rest of the night.”