Deck swiveled a little on his stool, giving them the full benefit of his blue eyes and crooked grin.
“Well now, if that’s the case,” he said, lifting his pint, “I’m clearly drinkin’ in the wrong company. Next round should be on the house for the prettiest table in the place.”
The brunette grinned.
“You know what? I think that’s completely fair.”
Deck pretended to think about it, his gaze lingering long enough to be noticeable, not long enough to be rude.
“Public service,” he said. “Can’t have an old Irishman with a heavy heart walkin’ home alone on a Monday night. Terrible for the town’s morale.”
The blonde laughed, eyes crinkling.
“Oh, honey. That line might’ve worked in 1978.”
Deck placed a hand over his chest in mock offense.
“Now that was cruel. An’ here I was about t’write ye into me will.”
The brunette smirked.
“Depends what’s in the will.”
“Couple of bad knees, a fine collection of neckties, and a heart o’ gold,” Deck said promptly. “Truly, a treasure trove.”
Sully chuckled behind the bar.
“Careful, girls. Ye’ll bruise the man’s pride. Takes me hours t’fluff it back up.”
Deck pointed a finger at him without looking away from the women.
“Don’t listen to the barkeep. He’s jealous of me devastatin’ good looks. Happens to the best of us.”
The blonde shook her head, still smiling.
“Tell you what, Irish. You keep the patter up and maybe we’ll buy you a drink.”
Deck tipped his glass in a little salute.
“Now that’s the kindest offer I’ve had all week. I’ll do me best t’earn it.”
The women laughed and turned back to their conversation, but the warmth in Deck's chest didn't last five seconds. Above the bar, the television flickered. He hadn’t been paying it much attention until the audio cut through the pub's hum—a voice like cold silk.
“...and now defense attorney Eleanor Harper finds herself entangled once again...”
Deck’s glass paused halfway to his mouth. The charm vanished from his face—like a mask had been ripped away. On the screen, Lila Grant didn't just look like a reporter. She looked like a predator spotting movement in the brush.
“This time, she isn’t just dating the opposition. It’s the District Attorney himself.”
Deck’s grip tightened around the pint.
Ah, Nell.
The whole damned town would make sport of her now.
There it was.
Something old and dangerous had woke up inside him.
