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“Whooo! That’ll add a bit of bounce to your tits. I’m keepin’ this.”
He followed her downstairs and gathered the box of paper products he’d left by the office. The band was once again playing and the crowd was lit.
His cousins crowded around the front tables, every one of them toasted except poor pregnant Sammy. He searched for Mallory but didn’t see her.
A loud cheer erupted as his Aunt Maureen and Uncle Frank appeared, back from their trip to visit Kelly’s art show. His mother and the aunts typically did everything together, so whenever one of the three sisters left town for more than a few hours, they celebrated their return like V-J Day, only with less soldiers and fewer people kissing in the streets.
“What the hell happened while I was gone? You’re all a mess!” Aunt Maureen gathered the plaid shawl around her arms and used it to wipe Declan’s mouth. “Lachlan, you’re worse than your twin brother. Get over here so Mum-mum can clean up your face. Finnegan, what do you mean letting my grandbabies walk around with their wee cherub cheeks filthier than landfills. People will talk!”
“Sorry, Mum.” Finn turned to him. “Took you long enough.” Snatching a package of napkins out of the box, Finn tore them open and began wiping down the greasy faces of his four kids. The other cousins did the same with their children.
Ryan sat for a few minutes and managed to shove down a plate of food while listening to his aunt regale the others about their adventure to the city. Kelly’s art show seemed to be going great, which pleased and frightened Ryan.
What if Kelly decided to stay in the city? Who would run O’Malley’s? He didn’t mind taking a shift here and there, but this managing stuff was for the birds. He got his fill at the lumberyard. Working here was only supposed to be temporary—a favor to his cousin.
Besides, Kelly’s wife, Ashlynn, ran a farm and the town market. They couldn’t do that from Philadelphia. Ryan was overthinking things. Eventually Kelly would return to Center County and everything would be back to normal.
His family lingered at the bar until late that night. The women were the first to fade, and Uncle Frank acted as the designated driver this year, carting everyone’s drunk asses home. All the grandkids were sleeping at the big house with Aunt Maureen, who said a week away from her grandbabies was simply too much to bear.
The pub closed at two on the dot. Ryan should have known better than to suggest he might get out earlier. Not that Maggie had taken him up on his offer. She hadn’t. The woman couldn’t have been less interested. And he tried to kiss her.
His face flamed every time he relived the humiliating moment in his head. The fact that he was still thinking about her, despite her disinterest, only proved how out of touch with the opposite sex he’d become. Get a clue.
Beer and green flair drenched the floors. Sue, the lead bartender, closed out the register as he used the push broom to sweep a disgusting pile of beer battered crap into the center of the floor. They worked until three in the morning, deciding the rest could wait until daylight.
By the time he drove home, the roads were empty. He had work at the lumberyard in four hours.
Pulling into his driveway, he parked and rested his eyes for a moment, trying to dredge up the strength to make it into the house and up to his bed. He sighed and frowned when something moved in the shadows.
Narrowing his eyes, he leaned forward and squinted at Maggie’s backyard. What the hell was he looking at?
A fire smoldered in the stone ring in his neighbor’s yard, mostly glowing embers that should have been extinguished hours ago. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. He was more worried about the collapsed body on the lawn.
“What the…?” He hit the high beams. “Oh, boy.”
She lay on her back in the grass, wrapped in a wool blanket. A bottle of something clutched in her hand. Possibly passed out.
He killed the engine and hopped out of the truck. This couldn’t be good.
Chapter 8
“Maggie?” Ryan hopped the fence into her driveway and entered her backyard. “You okay?”
“Hmm?” Her head turned and she grinned at the sight of her neighbor. Ryan? She thought his name was Ryan. “Hey, neighbor.” Whoa. The world tipped sideways then quickly righted itself. “Did you feel that?”
He crossed her lawn and looked down at her. He was really tall. “What are you doing?”
She held up the bottle of Jameson and nearly clunked herself in the head. “Lookin’ at stars.”
“It’s three-thirty in the morning.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. And about forty degrees out here. You’re going to get sick.”
“But look how pretty the sky is tonight.”
