My cell buzzes in my pocket with a message from my older brother, Branagan: Mam is on the drink and won’t stop telling me to get under skirt??? Trick said you could explain??? Explain!
I smile to myself as I type back: Be there in ten. Feed her some bread
Da isn’t much better, mind you, he sends back, the message flashing on my screen just as I slide the phone back into my pocket. I shake my head. Our parents have always loved their whiskey, and Bran has always been uptight about it. Sometimes I think ‘uptight’ is his middle name. He’s some big corporate guy, constantly working, or on the phone talking about work. The only night he takes off is Saturdays when he runs the bar to give Mam and Da the night off. They think he’s a saint because of it. The rest of us help out too, but Bran seems to do everything bigger and better than the rest of us. An overachiever if ever I saw one. Not that there is animosity between us, we’re as close as brothers can be, but it also means that we’ll happily call each other kiss-ass whenever it suits us.
Most weeks, I’ll head over to him when I’m finished at the restaurant to help him close up and have a beer together to catch up without the whole Kelly gang listening in, but last night I skipped out, too shellshocked by the realization that Hazel is the boss’s daughter to want to shoot the shit.
To be honest, I never thought I’d meet his daughter. I’ve worked for the man for six years and I haven’t once laid eyes on this kid. It turns out, she’s been at boarding school the whole time. Whenever he took time off, he was going to see her on his parents’ property upstate. But now high school is over—that’s right, high school—and she’s come back to Boston for good, he’s decided to teach her the restaurant business. She could end up being my boss. But for now, she’s my boss’s’ eighteen-year-old daughter. Eighteen. What the fuck is wrong with me wanting a girl that young?
In my defense, she seemed a hell of a lot older when I was talking, well, flirting with her. But I guess you never can tell based on looks. Had George not walked in when he did, I would have finished asking her out then been out of my ass when I went to pick her up from his house—career over. And just my luck, the one girl I asked out from work is the last girl I should even think about that way. I need my head read. Especially when all I could think about this shift was her—what was she doing? Where was she standing? Were other guys looking at her and thinking the same things I think when I’m looking at her? I might be going crazy over this one.
And the questions went around and around in my head, distracting me to the point where I burned the sage sauce, and I overcooked a T-Bone to well done instead of medium—blasphemy. The best thing I can do for myself is ignore her until these feelings go away. I could start looking for another job, but a sous chef in a high-class place like Hunt and Gather isn’t easy to find. I worked hard to get to where I am, and I’m not going to let my dick or my dirty thoughts ruin it for me. I can control myself around her. I can…
The scuff of a shoe on concrete has me glancing over my shoulder, stopping when a shadow catches my eye then disappears. Am I being followed?
I survey the street for a moment, straining my ears and hearing nothing but traffic in the distance. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Is someone there?” I ask, feeling a bit dumb as soon as the words leave my mouth. That’s exactly what someone about to get murdered in a horror movie would say.
Still, I narrow my eyes and scan the street, somewhat satisfied I was mistaken as I turn back around and continue my walk to the bar. It’s an absolutely miserable afternoon, wet and rainy and cold. I quicken my pace and arrive round the back of Kelly’s in no time. I chuckle to myself, I can already hear the laughter of my family from inside.
Placing my foot on the back step, I reach for the door then freeze when I hear an aluminum can bounce and roll, followed by a female sounding, “Shit!”
I turn just in time to see a streak of burgundy tuck behind the dumpster. Immediately, the tension leaves my chest, and a smile pulls at my lips. “Hazel?”
There’s a thump against the dumpster before a bottle rolls across the ground, followed by Hazel, who quickly scoops it up and holds it in her hand. “Oh! There it is. Found it!”
“You were looking for an empty beer bottle?” I ask, trying not to laugh as she holds her chin up in the air.
“Yes. Because, um, I collect them. Yes. That’s right. I collect empty beer bottles and I was missing a…” She frowns as she reads the label. “Heineken…” Her eyes lift to mine and she swallows hard.
“A rare find indeed,” I tease, smiling openly now. “Why are you really here?”
“Um…” She licks her lips and looks away, dropping the empty bottle back into the dumpster. “I wanted to talk to you. About our… about our date.”
“Hazel.” The smile falls from my face and I sigh, moving a little closer to her so no one can overhear us. “You’re George’s daughter. You know I can’t date you. I’ll lose my job.”
“You could lose your job if I wasn’t his daughter too. He fires anyone caught dating.”
“That’s if he catches them. But with you, it’s a given.”
“I can keep a secret,” she quickly adds, her eyes big as saucers as she looks up at me. It breaks my heart and I feel like shit for doing this.
“You’re too young for me, Hazel. I’m sorry. There’s too much at stake.”
Her eyes flood with unshed tears, making my throat feel tight and my stomach twist. I’m a total asshole. “I see,” she whispers, nodding. “I’ll just—”
“You brought a girl with you!” Mam gasps, standing at the back door that leads into the kitchen.
“We’re work friends, Mam,” I say over my shoulder. “Hazel here was just hoping to find an empty bottle of Irish beer to add to her international bottle collection.”
“Oh! Then what are you doing standing out here? You can have any bottle you like from inside. Come, come, meet the whole clan. They’ll be so pleased to meet you, lass. Cillian doesn’t introduce us to his friends often.”
Hazel looks at me while Mam waves her arms about, beckoning us inside. “It’s OK, Mrs. Kelly. Another time,” she says, swallowing hard after her voice wavered emotionally. Shit.
“Nonsense,” Mam argues. “There’s plenty of space, and Wren will be happy to have someone her own age in the mix. Come.”
Hazel’s mouth falls open as she looks at me in question, her eyes saying, ‘What do I do?’
“In you go,” I say, letting out a sigh because there’s no sense arguing with Moira Kelly once she’s set her mind to something. If I send Hazel away now, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
I nod. “Can’t just have Heineken bottles in your collection now, can you?” I give her a wink, loving the way her cheeks get all pink in response.
“But what about—”
“Nothing wrong with having a friend over for Sunday dinner, Hazel,” I state, cutting her off before she can water the seed of doubt that’s already growing in my mind. I already know this is a bad idea, but if I can’t have her, I at least want to know her. Just being around her makes me happier. And I need that. There’s nothing wrong with being her friend.