Page 3 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

When I finally looked up, he was staring at me. Although his clothes were dripping with beer, his face didn’t show any emotion. That made me more nervous than if he’d yelled.

His eyes were a pale gray, almost silver beneath the amber lights. I held his gaze for a second too long before remembering the beer dripping from his clothes.

The room around us was quieter now. People were watching us, waiting to see what would happen. Nobody stepped forward to help. I swallowed hard and tightened my grip on the napkins. I wondered if I’d just lost my job. For what felt like an eternity, he just looked at me.

His eyes moved over my face, paused on my hands, and settled on my eyes again. Whatever he saw seemed to matter more than the beer, because when he finally spoke his voice was calm.

“It’s fine,” he said.

His voice was lower than I’d expected, calm enough that I almost forgot everyone in the room was watching us. I blinked, thinking I’d heard him wrong.

“It was an accident. You didn’t do it on purpose.” His words were simple, and they surprised me. I’d been preparing myself to be yelled at or fired.

“I’m still really sorry,” I said.

He waved it away. I nodded quickly, feeling grateful. Another server came over to help clean the floor, and I stepped aside and walked back to the bar. My heart was still pounding. I couldn’t stop thinking about the man I’d just soaked in beer and the way he’d looked at me before letting it go.

He was already talking to someone else, his attention turned away from me. I looked down at the notepad in my hand and forced myself to focus on work. A few seconds later, my eyes wandered back across the room, finding him again.

Time passed, and finally my shift was over. It turned out better than I’d thought it would. I was still feeling a little embarrassed about spilling the beer, but I’d made it through the night without any more problems. Every time I picked up a tray, I thought about the pitcher I’d almost dropped. I made sure to be extra careful. I was moving a bit slower than the others, but nobody said anything to me.

As the bar slowed down, I felt relieved. The music was turned down low. Staff lifted chairs onto the tables. The room was filled with the sound of people cleaning up and talking quietly. It wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been earlier, and I was finally able to catch my breath.

“You survived your first Friday,” Chloe said. I looked up at her. She was carrying a stack of glasses.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to make it,” I said.

“Nobody ever is,” Chloe said. “I thought you were going to get fired before you even finished the night.”

By the time we finished cleaning up, I was exhausted. My feet hurt from the heels. All I wanted was a shower and a long sleep. I changed out of my uniform and thanked everyone before I left.

“See you tomorrow,” Chloe said. “You came to work, did your best, and made it through your first Friday. That’s a good start.”

I thought about what Chloe said as I walked home. The streets were quiet, and it felt nice to have the breeze on my face. I still didn’t get why the man hadn’t gotten upset when I spilled beer on him. Maybe he was just a nice guy. I hoped I would never have to deal with him again, because it would be embarrassing if he remembered me. I kept walking home, relieved that the night was finally over.

CHAPTER TWO

Liam

I threw the beer-soaked shirt on my bedroom floor. Beer was easy to wash out, but that wasn’t the point. It had been a while since someone spilled a drink on me, and I’d always kicked them out of the club for their mistake. Tonight should have been the same.

I took the shirt to the laundry room and watched the washing machine spin a few times before I went upstairs to take a shower. I was hoping the shower would wash away the night like it washed away the beer. It didn’t. By the time I finished drying my hair, I was thinking about the waitress again. That made me mad. Why was I still thinking about her? She made a mistake. She said sorry. I should’ve forgotten about her before I left the club.

I found myself walking into the kitchen, opening the fridge, and staring at the food inside. My mind kept going to the same moment, over and over. I could still see the pitcher tipping over, the beer soaking my shirt, and the look on the waitress’s face. I’d thought she might pass out. It shouldn’t have mattered, but I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I closed the fridge a bit harder than I’d meant to, grabbed a bottle of water, and leaned on the counter. What was wrong with me? I’d dealt with guys carrying knives into the club, customers looking for fights, and idiots who threatened my family. Compared to that, a nervous waitress spilling a drink was nothing. But my mind wouldn’t let it go.

The waitress had reached out to touch my jacket with some napkins. Then she’d stopped herself and pulled her hand back so fast she almost dropped the napkins. Then she’d said sorry over and over, without giving me a chance to say anything. The waitress didn’t try to explain what happened or blame the crowd. She just stood there saying sorry, waiting for me to decide what to do.

I pushed myself away from the counter and wandered into the living room. The house was quiet, the way I liked it after a long night, but tonight the silence wasn’t helping. Every time I stopped moving, my thoughts went back to the waitress’s eyes.

“Forget it,” I muttered, although the empty room didn’t respond.

I picked up tomorrow’s security schedule from the coffee table and forced myself to read through it. There were two events, one delivery, and three new part-time staff members starting work. When I reached the bottom, I realised I hadn’t taken in a single word. I dropped the papers back onto the table, annoyed that I couldn’t keep my attention where it belonged. Losing focus wasn’t something I did, whether I was working or sitting alone in my house. It irritated me that a woman I didn’t even know had managed to distract me without trying. My phone buzzed, pulling me back to the present. The message was from Sean, my older brother.

Any trouble at the club today?

I replied with one word: Nothing.