“Thanks,” he says, dropping a freshly egg-washed piece of chicken in. “I think my parents would’ve liked it if me and my brothers worked for them. Especially Mam, she likes to have her boys all in one place as much as possible.”
“Mam? Your family is Irish?”
He nods. “Aye. Irish-American though—the four of us we were born here after Mam and Da immigrated.”
“Explains the lack of an Irish accent,” I say with a smile. “Although, you say things like ‘Aye’. So that makes up for it.” He flashes me a dimple-popping smile and I swoon. “Where do your parents work?”
“They own the Irish bar, Kelly’s.”
“Oh, I know that place. So, you’re a Kelly?”
“Aye. I kind of grew up in the service industry. Mam and Da had us washing glasses and bussing tables as soon as we were tall enough to reach the dishwasher.”
“I imagine that was quite young since you’re what? Six-two?”
“Six-one, actually. I’m the shortest in the family.”
“Bullshit. How tall are your brothers?”
“Branagan is six-five, the other two fall somewhere in between.”
“Are you the youngest?”
He grins. “Second oldest.”
“Must have been a sore spot having your little brothers get bigger than you,” I tease, feeling more at ease with him in every passing moment.
“If it wasn’t height, it would be something else. It’s natural for siblings to want to give each other grief. Part of the fun of a big family.” There’s that smile again.
“I wouldn’t know. There’s only me and my dad.”
“I’m sorry. Your mom isn’t in the picture anymore?”
“No. She left when I was a baby, so I’ve never even met her. But it’s OK. Dad played tea parties with me when I was little.”
“He sounds great.”
“He was… But enough about me. I’d love to hear more about your brothers. I’m fascinated by the idea of big families.”
He turns to me with a grin before he nods toward the entry. “As much as I enjoy talking to you, lass, the big boss is in the room. Best you get back to work and leave me to do mine.” Lass. Why does that make my knees weak and my heart pitter-patter like a fucking fan girl?
“Until later, then,” I say, earning myself a wink that makes my heart soar. When I turn away, I have a secret smile pulling at my lips as I bypass my dad by grabbing the next order and carrying it out the exit doors. That conversation puts a bounce in my step for the rest of my night. Maybe working in my dad’s restaurant won’t be so bad after all.
Cillian
It’s tradition to start the night with a team meal and end it with a drink at the bar after cleanup. George says it’s for staff morale. ‘Keep them fed, and send them home happy,’ is his motto, so the fact I missed dinner tonight is going to be a bit of a sore point for him. I’m not shocked when he sits by me and questions my whereabouts.
“It was just a big day. I was late to the bar, and it just snowballed from there,” I explain, my eyes lifting to the new girl who was talking my ear off in the kitchen earlier. She’s cute with curves to die for and a personality that’s full of energy and makes me smile. I’d beckon her over here, but George has his own rules about mixing business with pleasure. He says that the restaurant is a family and families don’t fuck. Not that it really stops anyone from fraternizing, but it does mean they’re a hell of a lot more careful about making sure he doesn’t find out. He’s been known to fire people for less. The man expects loyalty above everything.
“You still making those burgers for them by hand?” he asks, signaling to the bartender that he’ll have a beer.
“I am,” I say, nodding. “And I know you think I should just give him the recipe. But I’m a control freak. If any of my brothers tried to make them, they’d leave something out and it wouldn’t taste right. Mam would be meticulous, but she isn’t strong enough to mix it properly. And Da…well, he can flip a burger to perfection, but he’s heavy-handed with ingredients, thinks he can measure with his eye when he’s half blind.” I shake my head. “It has to be me.”
“I respect that,” George says as he stands to go and mingle. “Just try not to skip the team dinner too often. Work family is as important as real family. Plus, I’m the one who signs your paycheck and supplies that ground beef at cost. Don’t forget where your loyalties lie.” He raises two bushy brows at me.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I say, gesturing to the small space filled with staff. “I’m always here. I just missed dinner once. It won’t happen again.”
He nods and slaps me on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Did you at least eat before you got here?”
I twist my beer in my fingers and shake my head. “I’ll eat when I get home.”
He rolls his eyes. “Eat now. Get in there and make yourself a plate of something. I don’t send my people home hungry.”
“I’ll just have to clean in there again, George. I can wait.” He cuts a stern look my way, and now it’s my turn to do some eye rolling. “Fine. I’ll make a sandwich.”
“That’s a good man,” he says, laughing as he pats me on the back while I get up and head back into the kitchen.
I really appreciate the effort George puts into looking after his employees, but when I just spent the last six hours in the kitchen on my feet, the last thing I want to do is go back in there. But what George wants, George gets. I grab two slices of sourdough, lettuce, mayo and chorizo salami, and slap it all together. The moment I take my first bite, I moan. I had no idea I was this hungry. Maybe George knows what he’s talking about after all.
“Too busy feeding everyone else to eat, huh?” a voice says to my left, causing me to look up and find the curvy lass from before.
“Want some?” I ask, gesturing to the plate in front of me. She shakes her head.
“You look like you need the food more than I do,” she says, giving me a hint of a shy smile as she moves a little closer. “I was just, uh, hoping we could finish our conversation now that the shift is over. You were telling me about how short you are.”
I let out a laugh as I nod, chewing what’s in my mouth before I speak again. “Scintillating conversation.”
She shrugs and leans against the benchtop. “I found it interesting.”
“More interesting than being out there?” I ask, nodding to the doorway where some raucous laughter filters in from the bar.
“It’s weird out there,” she says, scrunching her cute nose up a bit. “I don’t think I fit in that well.”
I prepare my sandwich for another bite. “Because you’re new?” As my mouth wraps around the sandwich and I bite down, I can’t help but notice the way her eyes watch me and her pink tongue sneaks out to lick her lips. She’s either hungry or turned on. And I’m hoping it’s the latter since that’s where I am right now too. Turned on and hungry. I haven’t paid much attention to women for…shit, I don’t even want to count how long. But it’s been awhile. And something about this girl has my synapses firing.