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“Because Clara is the one who put all the orders in.”
“Did someone complain?” Clara wondered, stopping at the sound of her name and pushing her cornsilk hair off her face.
“No,” Delaney shook her head. “I was just saying I split the cash tips so you can have half.”
Clara’s eyes went wide. “Really? You don’t have to do that. I got a ton of tips from credit cards, and James likes to keep everything fair, so I’m not worried.” She gestured at the man still watching their exchange. “You keep that. You earned it, and you kept me from drowning.”
Clara turned back to James. “You really should fire Maizy. She’s fucking useless.”
With a toss of her hair, Clara turned and disappeared back into the kitchen. Before anyone changed their minds, Delaney dug the bills out of the apron pocket and stuffed them into her jeans.
She’d tried to keep a running total in her head, but it had been so busy. If she had to guess, there was probably a couple hundred dollars in tips. Added to the money James had handed her, it was more than enough to keep her comfortable on her journey south.
“Well,” Delaney said, suddenly feeling awkward. “I’m glad I could help. It was nice to meet you.”
She slipped into the jacket he’d laid on the bar and turned toward the door. When he caught up with her, he moved into her line of sight before speaking.
“I didn’t catch your name before.”
“It’s Delaney.”
“Are you looking for a job, Delaney? Because,” he continued when she didn’t answer, “I really do need to fire Maizy, and you obviously have more than a little experience waiting tables. It’s supposed to be a busy weekend. You’d really be doing me a favor.”
She hadn’t considered staying in Philadelphia for this next stretch. She’d been eyeing North Carolina to get out of the worst of the cold, but if she wouldn’t have to waste time looking for a job, it could be a good option.
“You don’t have to decide now. If you—”
“I’ll do it,” she said before she could change her mind.
The smile he sent her had that little flutter dancing behind her sternum again.
“Great. Can you come in tomorrow at two? We can go through all the necessary paperwork and get you set up in the system. I can give you a schedule then too.”
“Yeah. Two is fine. See you tomorrow.”
She reached for the door, steeling herself against the blast of icy air that washed over her face. For a split second, it felt good against her cheeks, heated from the busyness of the bar. Then it knifed through her, and she shuffled quickly to her car, jumping in to shield herself from the wind.
Well, that was the most impulsive thing she’d done in a very long time, but if the money was always as good as it had been tonight, it would be worth it. She could roll out of Philadelphia in a few weeks with enough to last her a long time if she was careful with it—and she was always careful with it. She had to be.
ChapterTwo
The hardwood was cold under his stocking feet as James padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. The light filtering through the windows was dim, the snow holding the city in somber gray even though it was nearly ten.
He tugged open the refrigerator in search of the iced coffee he preferred no matter the season and grabbed a bottle, twisting the top off and tossing it on the counter before taking a deep pull. The jolt of caffeine felt like liquid electricity and started clearing out the first of the cobwebs from his brain.
Plenty to do today, even if he was getting somewhat of a late start. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep last night, his mind taunting him with images of dark eyes and smooth brown skin. She’d stepped into his pub and drawn his attention like a siren’s call, mysterious and forbidden.
It had been a long time since anyone had drawn his attention like that. His wife had. Six years ago, she’d somehow stopped being his cousin’s wife’s best friend, and he’d really seen her for the first time. Loving her had been a joy. Losing her had nearly broken him.
After Maura’s death, he’d spent months closed inside the house where they’d planned to build a life together. Until one day his sister-in-law came over, picked her way through the wreckage of pizza boxes and empty beer bottles, and told him to get the fuck over himself. Reagan was blunt like that.
She’d been right, though. Maura wouldn’t want him to mope around in his own filth, blaming himself for not getting there sooner, for not being able to save her. So he’d done his best to get back to his life. He’d stopped canceling the housekeeper’s weekly visits, he’d learned how to do more than reheat day-old pizza, and he’d eased himself back into syndicate duties.
The one thing that helped knit him back together again had been opening the pub. They used to stay up late into the night talking about opening a pub one day. Maura loved to plan and plot and scheme. A year after her death, on their wedding anniversary, he bought the building that would become The Black Orchid and used all her notes to bring it to life. The pub she’d always wanted, named after her favorite flower.
Far beyond his work with the syndicate as a Callahan, The Black Orchid was the one thing that was only his. Not that he resented supporting his family’s centuries-old seat of power over the criminal underworld of Philadelphia. Far from it. He’d been raised in this life; he knew what it demanded of him.
The Black Orchid was simply his opportunity to be the one issuing orders rather than another cog in the wheel serving at the pleasure of his cousin Declan. Everyone had something outside the syndicate to keep them grounded. The pub was his.
