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He chuckled, “Nope,” he said. “Although I call the fair state of Alabama my home now, I’m originally from Ireland.”
Dear Lord, Viv felt about ready to burst into flames just from his sexy voice alone. His accent made it harder for her to concentrate on what her next question or comment should be. Hell, she was pretty sure that remembering her name might be a task.
“Can I get some food?” he asked when she didn’t respond.
“Food?” she repeated as though she didn’t understand the word.
“Sure—you know, stuff you eat. Listen, I have a busy day and I just need to fuel up.” Viv looked down at her watch and back up at the sexy, tatted man before her. He took off his black leather jacket and flung it over his shoulder, giving her a better look at not only his tattoos but his muscles. And holy arm porn—he was hot!
“Fine,” she said, trying for a little pissed off but sounding a whole lot more turned on. Shit!
“I’ll just sit here at the counter if that works,” he offered. She didn’t say a word, not sure that anything she uttered would make any sense. Viv just stood there nodding like a fool and watched as he walked past her to find a stool at the front counter. She nearly swallowed her tongue at how good his ass looked in the black jeans that hugged him like a glove. She shook her head as if trying to regain her senses.
“New guy,” she barked. “You’re up.”
“Tommy,” he called from the corner of the diner. “My name is Tommy,” he complained.
“Yeah, yeah. Tommy—you’re up,” Viv corrected and didn’t miss the way hot biker guy laughed.
“Keep laughing,” she warned. “Tommy here is in training and you’re his first real customer,” she said not hiding her smile. “Good luck to you, Sir,” she said and turned to finish her work in the back storeroom. She needed to take a quick inventory for the day, especially since her now ex-employee fed her friends as though it was her personal pantry. She’d call in her order and then find the time to post a new ad in the local paper.
By the time she finished her inventory, New Guy had not only brought Hot Irish Guy his food, but they were chatting it up like they were old friends. “Don’t you have something you could be doing?” Viv looked Tommy up and down and took a sadistic pleasure in the way he hopped out of her way and pretended to be busy.
“Sure, boss,” he said. Viv pulled the sugar shakers from the counter underneath the bar and started to refill them. “Oh, Tina said to tell you she had to leave for the day. Something about a family emergency,” Tommy said. He shot her a look that suggested he should be afraid to deliver the message and New Guy was right. She felt about ready to lob a sugar shaker at his head but that would only involve paperwork and workman’s comp claims she didn’t have time for.
“Great,” she mumbled. “That girl has more family emergencies than anyone else I’ve ever met. Just how big is her family anyway?” Viv complained to herself.
Hot Irish guy seemed to find her whole monologue funny. “So, your employees giving you trouble?” he questioned. He shoved four pieces of bacon and half a piece of toast into his mouth.
“Trouble doesn’t begin to describe what they are causing me today—or any other day, for that matter,” she admitted. “I just fired Tina’s best friend for feeding half the town for free and now she takes off with her same old tired excuse. It’s just me and the New Kid,” she said, nodding to where Tommy was still fumbling with the napkin dispensers.
Hot Irish guy cleared his throat, “I might be able to help with your troubles,” he said. God, Viv thought of about a thousand ways that man could help with her problems, and not one of them involved what he was probably about to propose. “Hire me,” he said, holding his arms wide as if he was making a sacrifice to her.
“What are your qualifications, Hot Irish Guy?” she asked.
“Hot Irish Guy?” He questioned her nickname for him. Honestly, she was awful at names, so she usually made up her own for people.
Viv shrugged, “Well, it’s accurate,” she said. She put down the sugar shaker she was working on and studied him. “Really, why would you want to work here? I usually get high schoolers coming in here to ask me for a job, but you look to be well out of the public school system.”
He threw back his head and barked out his laugh and it was probably the sexiest thing Viv had ever seen in her life. “Yeah, I’m well past school age, Darlin’,” he admitted. “I’ve just turned thirty-three.” Now it was Viv’s turn to laugh. He sounded as though he was saying “tirty-tree”.
“Yeah, yeah—go ahead and make fun of the way I say my th’s; everyone does.” He shot her a sexy smirk that had Viv immediately stop laughing. This guy seemed to be able to take the whole smolder thing to a whole new level.
“My question stands,” she said. “Why do you want to work here?”
He shrugged and pushed his empty plate to the back of the counter, leaning forward as if he was about to share a secret with her. Viv did the same, eager to share the same space as the sexy guy. “I’m a felon,” he loudly whispered.
She didn’t even blink an eye. She had known a few ex-cons in her life. Her grandmother even dated one for a few years until he got bored and took off. So, Hot Irish Guy’s grand admission didn’t shock her. “And incapable of whispering,” Viv teased.
“You don’t seem surprised.” He sounded almost disappointed in the fact that he didn’t surprise her.
“Let’s just say that my grandmother sometimes ran with a questionable crowd, and I’ve known all kinds,” she said. “So, you want a job here because you’re a felon? You look other places?” Viv knew she was sticking her nose into a stranger’s business, but she couldn’t help herself. Plus, if he wanted her to consider him for employment, she had a right to ask questions. Although, she was pretty sure that the question she wanted to ask was completely inappropriate. His relationship status didn’t factor into whether she would hire him or not.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve put into just about every place on Main Street that’s hiring and nothing. I have to fill out their applications and when I get to the part where I have to answer ‘yes’ for convicted of a felony, it’s over. No one wants to hire an ex-con.” Viv hated that he seemed almost defeated and whether right or wrong, she wanted to help him.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“Grand theft auto,” he answered. “I was a stupid kid—just trying to get into a motorcycle gang. My family had just gone back to Ireland and left me in America, and I didn’t exactly fit in.” Viv giggled at the thought of an Irish kid trying to fit in with the kids around town. Kids in their little Alabama town were tough when it came to accepting anyone new into the fold. Given the fact that he sounded so different from them, Hot Irish Guy might have never found his place.
