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“Pain in my ass,” Zoey muttered.
Vickie and her cohorts waved before leaving, a conspiratorial grin on every face. Zoey headed into the kitchen, shaking her head. “Those old ladies are going to be the death of me, I swear.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MIKESATATthe bar at the Purple Shamrock and scowled into his beer. He knew he was scowling because his cousin Bridget had just called him out on it. And she wasn’t giving up. Quitting was not the McKinnon way, even if she was an O’Hearn now.
“Hey, Mary!” She called out from behind the bar. “Come over here and tell me what’s wrong with your brother.”
Mary walked over from where she’d been folding green linen napkins and leaned in to stare at his face. His twin’s face was showing an exaggerated amount of interest, but it wasn’t all a put-on. He saw the flash of concern in her eyes.
“Oi...he’s a sad one today, isn’t he?” Mary spoke with a fake Irish brogue. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the lad was lovesick, but that can’t be it. He hasn’t been on a date in forever.”
Mike straightened. “I took Bonnie Wilkins to dinner just last week! It was right here. You both saw us.”
Mary waved him off, dropping her accent. “Puh-leeze. I’m talking about an actualdate, with furtive glances and hand-holding and a kiss to end the evening. These matchups the book club has you going on are more like find-a-friend dinners.”
“Well, maybe they just haven’t found the right friend for me yet.”
Bridget scoffed. “They’ve set you up with every unattached woman in town. You have to actually beopento romance before you can find it.”
“Maybe I’m really fussy. Or maybe I’m not interested in romance.”
Mary rested her chin in her hand. “Then why are you staring into that glass of whiskey in the middle of the afternoon like you were hoping it held all the answers to some great problem?”
“I’mnot!”
It probably didn’t look great. His final appointment for the day had canceled, so he’d come to the bar a few hours ahead of his weekly Friday night bar shift. And that bottle of Irish whiskey had been calling his name.
Mary reached out and pinched his cheek, which she knew he hated. “Twin-sense, remember? I know when you’re wallowing, and brother, you are wallowing big-time.” She slid onto the barstool next to him. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know...” He saw her skepticism. “Seriously... I don’t know what it is. I tried to explain it to Nana, but I couldn’t. I’m feeling restless, but I don’t know why. Anxious, but I don’t know forwhat.” He took a sip from his glass. “It’s like...nothing feels satisfying to me anymore. I’m not as sad as I used to be, but I’m not happy, either. I’m in this weirdokayland. It’s not necessarily bad. I’m not hurting. I’m just not feeling...anything.”
Mary and Bridget glanced at each other across the bar. They were probably just as surprised as he was by this little speech. He pushed on, needing to just get it out. “Work is okay. I’m paying the bills. Clients are happy.” He looked around the pub. It was still early, so it was nearly empty. But after dinner—once the music started—it would be hopping with locals and tourists. “I enjoy working the bar on Fridays. It’s something different from the rest of the week. I know what I’m doing. We have good friends here. But...it’s not like it’s my passion or anything. It’s a job. I don’t hate it. It’s...”
“Okay?” Mary’s voice was low and soft. He nodded, sitting back in his seat.
“The dinner dates I go on are nice enough. Some are better than others, but none of them are exactly exciting. But that’s onme, not the women. Most of them are great, and I like the companionship, but...”
Bridget made a face. “Oh, please tell me you don’t mentioncompanionshipto your dates. If you want companionship, go get a dog.”
“I know how to behave like a gentleman, Bridget.” He emptied his glass as a group of diners came in. “Looks like you’ll be needed in the kitchen soon. Don’t worry about me. I’m just having a moody Friday.”
Bridget patted his hand before turning for the kitchen. “Well, I hope you can snap out of it. Baby Moira was fussy tonight, so Finn is staying with her instead of getting a sitter. It’s just you and Timothy on the bar while I handle the kitchen. Kelly’s working the tables.”
He grinned. “Being crazy-busy sounds like just the ticket. I’ll be fine. And holler if you need help in the kitchen—I took a few shifts while you were on maternity leave and no one died.”
He moved to the business side of the bar and took a quick inventory. As usual, everything was in order. Bridget ran a tight ship.
Mary continued to stare at him after Bridget left. Finally he rolled his eyes and turned to his twin.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged, but there was very clearlysomething. After a prolonged pause, she got to it. “I met Zoey for coffee yesterday. She said something about you stopping by her place. A lot.”
He frowned. “I wouldn’t say alot. Why?”
Her right brow arched. “She said you’re there every week. I know you two are close, but how closeareyou?”
