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“I look forward to it.”

* * *

It’s the busiest Friday night we’ve had in a long time, even with it being the shoulder season—the time between the tourism highs and lows. I called in Maeve to help Maggie and Izzy buzz around the pub, taking and delivering orders.

The band is lively and barely covers the sound of the patrons, all laughing and talking.

It’s a sight that reminds me of the pub in our little village in Ireland. The sights and sounds, and even the scents coming from the kitchen, are the same.

I’ve been homesick more and more over the past few months, which is unlike me.

It seems a lot is changing in me lately.

“I need four pints of Guinness and a shot of whiskey,” Maeve says as she sets her empty tray on the bar. “And I might need a security guard in a minute.”

“Who’s bothering you?”

My eyes narrow as I scan my pub.

“Far back right corner.” She jerks her chin and rolls her eyes. “They’re good and pissed and think it’s okay to put their hands where they’re not wanted.”

“Cut them off now and tell them to leave.”

“It’s been pretty harmless until my last trip over.”

“We have no tolerance for this, Maeve. I’ll escort them out if you’d rather.”

She blows out a breath and shakes her head, her red hair swishing in its ponytail. “No, I’ll tell them.”

She loads up her drinks and delivers them to a nearby table before making her way to the back corner. I keep watch to make sure the men leave quietly.

Maeve smiles as she gestures to the door.

Two of the men’s faces sober, and they look at the other two, who scowl. The biggest one stands.

And gets in my sister’s face.

I hurry around the bar, and just as I reach them, Maeve pours a drink over the man’s head.

“That should cool you off, you misogynistic ass,” she says. “Now, take your goons and get the hell out of my pub.”

“Maybe someone needs to teach you your fucking place,” the man growls, but I step up and move Maeve behind me.

“Why don’t you teach me?”

I tower over the piece of shit by at least six inches. He looks up and swallows hard. “This isn’t any of your fucking business.”

“As I’m the owner here, and this is my sister, it’s absolutely my business. She asked you to leave. You won’t be asked nicely again.”

“Are you gonna try to throw us out of here? There’s four of us, asshole.”

“And there’s four of us,” Will Montgomery says from behind me. I glance back to see that he has his brothers, Matt and Caleb, with him.

The four of us look formidable, and the four of them swallow hard in response.

“That’s Will Montgomery,” one of them observes.

“And he’s going to kick your ass if you don’t fucking leave,” Will says.

They scoot out of the booth and hurry out of the bar, and then the band picks back up, and everyone goes back to their drinks.

Squabbles aren’t unheard of in an Irish pub.

“What are you all doing here?” I ask as I turn to shake their hands. “Wait, let me guess. You went to see the baby.”

“We did,” Matt agrees. “We had some time and decided to come to the island for a few hours.”

“The girls are going to be pissed that we didn’t bring them,” Caleb adds, but then shrugs. “They thought we were just having a boring guys’ night.”

“We’ll bring them back in a couple of days,” Will says, unconcerned. “I’ve always wanted to swing in here and see what it’s like. It’s damn awesome, Keegan.”

“That it is. Let me pour you each a pint.”

“I’ll take a Coke,” Matt interrupts. “I’ll drive these two home.”

“Deal,” Caleb agrees, and the three of them sit at the bar.

Izzy’s been in and out of the kitchen and didn’t miss a step seeing to her tables during the exchange with the assholes. She grins and waves at the guys as she hurries into the kitchen.

“I’m hungry,” Will says. “I’ll take everything on the appetizer menu.”

“We’re going to be here all fucking night.” Caleb groans.

“I’m hungry,” Will repeats.

“Okay, make it two,” Caleb says.

“I’ll just eat some of theirs,” Matt adds but earns glares from his brothers. “Fine, I’ll have the nachos. And the wings. And bring some fries, too.”

“Three orders of the appetizer menu, it is.”

Chapter 11

~Izzy~

“Fucking Christ, you’ll end up killing me,” Keegan pants, his weight on me, still inside of me. This is the very best way to wake up every morning.

I don’t remember the last time I slept at Maggie’s house. The thought of being away from Keegan at night isn’t one I want to entertain.

It’s just too good to be with him. To feel him next to me.

To wake up to this.

I drag my fingers up and down his back, and he kisses my cheek before rolling to the side.

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