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“I don’t drink on the job,” she said smartly. “I need two pints of Harp and a glass of Smithwick’s, two whiskeys, um, Paddy’s, two Cokes, and a Baileys.” She offered a smug smile. “And I could use one of those little aprons if you have one handy.”
He started the order, cleared his throat. “Ah, you don’t know the prices.”
“You have a list of them, don’t you? Put them in the apron. I can add, and quite well, too. If you have a tray, while you’re filling that order, I can clear off some of the empties before they end up broken on the floor.”
A quarter hour, he thought again, and dug out a menu, an apron, laid them both on a tray and passed it over. “It’s kind it is of you to pitch in, Jude Frances.”
She lifted her brows. “You don’t think I can do it.” With this, she flounced away.
“Does it hurt?” Shawn asked from behind him.
“What?”
“Shoehorning your foot in your mouth that way. I bet it cracks the jaw something fierce.” He only snickered when Aidan jabbed him sharply, elbow into ribs. “She has a way with her, too,” he added, watching as Jude cleared off one of the low tables and chatted with the family who sat there. “I’d be happy to take her off your hands if . . .”
He trailed off, a little daunted by the vicious look Aidan shot at him. “Just joking,” he muttered and slipped back to the other end of the bar.
Jude came back, began unloading the empties, loading the first order. “A pint and a glass of Guinness, two Or-angeens, and a cup of tea with whiskey.”
Before Aidan could speak, she’d hefted the tray, just un-steadily enough to make him hold his breath, and moved off to serve.
She was having the time of her life. She was in the middle of it all, part of it all. Music and movement and shouted conversation and laughter. People called her by name and asked how it was all going. No one seemed the least surprised that she was taking orders and emptying ashtrays.
She knew she didn’t have Darcy’s graceful efficiency and style, but she was handling it. And if she’d almost poured a pint of beer on Mr. Duffy, the operative word was “almost.” He’d caught it himself with a wink and grin and said he’d sooner have it in him than on him.
She managed the money, too, and didn’t think she made any important mistakes. In fact, one of her apron pockets was bulging with tips that had her glowing with pride.
When Shawn breezed by and swung her into a quick dance, she was too surprised to be embarrassed. “I don’t know how.”
“Sure you do. Will you come by and play my music again, Jude Frances?”
“I’d like that. But you have to let go. I’m running out of breath and stepping all over your feet.”
“If you were to give me a kiss, you’d have Aidan boiling with jealousy.”
“I would not. Really?” His grin was irresistible. “I’ll just kiss you because you’re so pretty.”
When he gaped in shock at that, she kissed his cheek. “Now, I’m supposed to be working. The boss will dock my pay if I keep dancing with you.”
“Those Gallagher lads are shameless,” Kathy Duffy told her as Jude cleared more glasses. “Bless them for it. A pair of good women would settle them down, but not so much they wouldn’t be interesting.”
“Aidan’s married to the pub,” Kevin Duffy said as he lit a cigarette. “And Shawn to his music. It’ll be years yet before either of them’s taking on a wife.”
“Nothing to stop a clever lass from trying, is there?” And Kathy winked at Jude.
Jude managed a smile as she moved to another table. She managed to keep it in place as she took the orders. But her mind was whirling.
Is that what people thought? she wondered. That she was trying to wrangle Aidan into marriage? Why it had never crossed her mind. Not seriously. Hardly at all.
Did he think that was what she was aiming for?
She stole a glance at him, watched him nimbly pulling pints as he talked to two of the Riley sisters. No, of course he didn’t. They were both just enjoying themselves. Enjoying each other. If the thought of marriage had crossed her mind, it was natural enough. But she hadn’t dwelled on it.
The fact was, she didn’t want to. She’d been down that road and had been smeared on the pavement.
Fun was better. The lack of commitment and expectations was liberating. They had mutual affection and respect, and if she was in love with him, well . . . that just made it all the more romantic.
She wasn’t going to do anything to spoil it. In fact, she was going to do everything she could to enhance it, to squeeze every drop of pleasure out of the time she had.
“When you come back from your trip there, Jude, I’ll have another pint before closing.”
“Hmm?” Distracted, she looked down at the wide, patient face of Jack Brennan. “Oh, sorry.” She picked up his empty, then frowned at him.
“I’m not pissed,” he promised. “My heart’s all mended. Fact is, I don’t know why I got in such a state over a woman. But if you’re worried, you can ask Aidan if I can stand another pint.”
He was so sweet, she thought, and holding back on an urge to pat his head as she might that of a big, shaggy dog. “No urge to break his nose?”
“Well, now, I’ll admit I’ve always half wanted to just because it’s never been managed. And he broke mine some time back.”
“Aidan broke your nose?” It was appalling. It was fascinating.
“Not on actual purpose,” Jack qualified. “We were fifteen and playing football and one thing led to another. Aidan’s never been much of a one for bloodying his mates unless . . .”
“One thing leads to another?”
“Aye.” Jack beamed at her. “And I don’t think he’s had himself a good mix-up in months. Due for one most like, but he’s too busy courting you to find time for a scuffle.”
“He isn’t courting me.”
Jack pursed his lips on an expression caught between concern and puzzlement. “Aren’t you sweet on him, then?”
“I—” How did she answer that? “I like him very much. I’d better get you that pint. It’s nearly closing time.”
“You’ve been run off your feet,” Aidan said when he closed the door behind the last straggler. “Sit down now, Jude, and I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
“I wouldn’t mind it.” She had to admit it had been work. Delightful but exhausting. Her arms ached from carting heavy trays. It was no wonder, she decided, that Darcy’s arms were so beautifully toned.
And her feet, it didn’t bear thinking about how much her feet were throbbing.
She sank onto a stool, rolled her shoulders.
In the kitchen Shawn was cleaning up and singing about a wild colonial boy. The air was blue with smoke, and ripe still with the smells of beer and whiskey.
She found it all very homey.
“If you decide to give up psychology,” Aidan said as he set a glass in front of her. “I’m hiring.”
Nothing he said could have pleased her more. “I did all right, didn’t I?”
“You did brilliantly.” He took her hand, kissed it. “Thanks.”
“I liked it. I haven’t given that many parties. They make me so nervous. The planning keeps me in a constant state of anxiety. Then the hostessing, making sure everything’s running smoothly. This was like giving a party without all the nerves. And . . .” She jingled the coins in her apron pocket. “I got paid.”
“Now you can sit and tell me about your day in Dublin while I clean up here.”
“I’ll tell you about it while I help you clean up.”
He decided not to risk her good mood by arguing again, but intended to have her do nothing more complex than clearing empties and setting them on the bar. But she was quicker than he’d thought and had her sleeves rolled up while he was still dealing with behind-the-bar work and the till.
With a pail and a rag she’d gotten from Shawn, she began to mop down the tables.
He listened to her, the way h
er voice flowed up and down as she described what she’d seen and what she’d done that day. The words weren’t so important, Aidan thought. It was just so soothing to listen to her.
She seemed to bring such blessed quiet with her wherever she went.
He started on the floors, working around and with her. It was amazing, he mused, how smoothly she slid into his rhythm. Or was he sliding into hers? He couldn’t tell. But it seemed so natural, the way she clicked into his place, his world. His life, for that matter.
He’d never pictured her carting trays or making change. Of course it wasn’t what she was meant for, but she’d done it well. A lark for her, he supposed. She certainly wasn’t fashioned to be wiping up spilled beer every night. But she did so with such practical ease he had an urge to cuddle her.
When he followed it, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her back against him, she settled right in.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
“It is, yes. Though I’m keeping you up late doing dirty work.”
“I like it. Now that everything’s quiet, and everyone’s gone home to bed, I can think about what Kathy Duffy said to me, or the joke Douglas O’Brian told, and listen to Shawn singing in the kitchen. In Chicago I’d be sleeping by now, after finishing papers and reading a chapter of a good book that received bright literary reviews.”
She closed her hands over his, relaxed. “This is much better.”
“And when you go back . . .” He laid his cheek on the top of her head. “Will you find a neighborhood pub and spend an evening or two there instead?”
The thought of it brought a dark, thick wall shuttering down on her future. “I have lots of time before that’s an issue. I’m enjoying learning to go day by day.”
“And night by night.” He turned her, glided her into a waltz that followed the tune Shawn was singing.
“Night by night. I’m a terrible dancer.”
“But you’re not.” Hesitant was what she was, and not yet sure of herself. “I watched you dance with Shawn, then kiss him in front of God and country.”
“He said it would make you boil with jealousy.”
“So it might have if I didn’t know I could beat him senseless if need be.”
She laughed, loving the way the room revolved as he circled her. “I kissed him because he’s pretty and he asked me. You’re pretty, too. I might kiss you if you asked me.”
