Lilac Lane

This time the flush of guilt that spread across his face was undeniable. “No, of course not. Your position is not in question. Luke and Moira want you here. That’s all I need to know.”

“Then what?”

“I’ve just tried to clarify what authority you have over what I do.”

“So it’s a matter of authority, is it? Is it me personally you object to listening to or would it be any woman?” She paused to let her words sink in, then answered her own question. “Wait now. It can’t possibly be that since you’ve no objection to taking Nell’s words to heart or Moira’s. That leaves only one answer. It must be me. Do I grate on your nerves because I hit a little too closely to the truth from time to time and underline some insecurity of yours about your cooking?”

Bryan looked genuinely distraught by her conclusion, but she was in no mood to be consoled by that. If his patience had worn thin, hers was at an end.

“Kiera, no. Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a bad morning, and it has nothing at all to do with you. I’d been hoping for something, and it didn’t work out. There’s no reason for me to be taking my foul mood out on you. You just happened to appear as I finished taking the call.”

Something in his voice alerted her that whatever that call had been about, it truly had thrown him off his game. His words were as close to a sincere apology as she’d ever heard from him. And there was no mistaking the hint of despair in his eyes, if she paused long enough to see that and not focus on the temper in his tone.

She stopped what she was doing, took his coffee cup and refilled it, then looked him in the eye. “Do you want to talk about whatever’s really bothering you? I’m not Luke, but I’m a good listener and I don’t spread tales.”

A smile flitted across his face at that. “Spoken like a true Irish bartender,” he said.

“Spoken sincerely,” she countered. “We certainly can’t claim to have reached the status of friends. In fact, we’re coworkers and barely that, but I’d like to help if I can.”

He seemed taken aback by the offer. “I appreciate that, but there’s nothing you can do. It’s something I’m unlikely to resolve. One of these days I have to accept that.”

The resignation in his voice reminded her of times in her own past when she’d wanted to give up. Sometimes it had been her own inner strength or a bit of support offered when needed that had gotten her through. She wanted to offer that to him.

“If it’s important enough, you can’t stop trying, no matter how many dead ends you encounter,” she told him. She thought of how her father had reached out again and again, despite her determined efforts to push him away. No matter how far apart she told herself they were, she’d known if she truly needed him, he would be there. He’d proved it by all he’d done with Moira to get her to Chesapeake Shores when she’d desperately needed to make a change.

She held Bryan’s gaze and added earnestly, “It’s the trying that will come to matter someday.”

He sighed. “I want to believe that. I truly do.” He picked up his coffee and headed toward the kitchen. “Thanks for this,” he said, gesturing with the cup. “And for the advice.”

Kiera watched his retreat and felt something inside her shift. Bryan Laramie was a far more complicated man than she’d ever imagined. And despite every warning bell going off in her head, she couldn’t help being just a tiny bit intrigued.

* * *

There was always a natural lull between lunch and dinner at the pub. The waitstaff often changed during that time, with some of their part-time college students heading off to class and others showing up for the evening shift.

Normally Kiera wanted nothing more during those hours than to put her feet up for a bit, have a strong cup of tea and say not a single word to another soul. Today, though, with her conversation with Bryan still on her mind, she decided to take a chance and see if she could get to the bottom of his mood. Even as she told herself that pressing him was a bad idea, she stepped into the kitchen, only to find it as spotless as if there had never been a lunch rush, and deserted. Since the back door was sitting open, she peered outside and down the alley behind the building. No sign of him there, either. Going off and leaving the kitchen unsecured wasn’t like him, which only worried her more.

Wherever he’d gone and whatever his reason for it, he shouldn’t have been so careless, she thought with annoyance. She closed the door and turned the lock, then went back into the dining room and settled at a table just inside the door with her tea and a book that wasn’t holding her interest. Her gaze kept straying to the street, but wherever Bryan had gone, he didn’t appear to be in any hurry to get back.

Not that she intended to question him or even to lecture him on his carelessness. One testy encounter was enough for today. She was just hoping to see what he had to say for himself when he returned to find he couldn’t slip in the same way he’d walked out.

She’d been staring down the street for a half hour or more when Luke joined her.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Fine. The lunch hour went smoothly. Will you be wanting me behind the bar again tonight?”

“No, I can take over. Paul called in, so I’ll need you to help with serving.”

Her gaze narrowed. “It’s the third time this week he’s called in.”

“Finals are coming up soon. I think he’s under a lot of pressure to get his grades up. His parents have high expectations for him. He’s the first in the family to go to college. He doesn’t want to let them down.”

The excuse sounded like one her own sons might use to explain away irresponsibility. “But he has a responsibility to you,” Kiera objected. “That matters, too.”

“I’ve told him his grades are the most important thing for the moment. And I have you here to take up any slack.”

She nodded, accepting his decision for the generosity it showed. It wasn’t up to her to tell him that his employee might be getting off too easily. If Paul was taking advantage of Luke’s good nature, he’d learn it soon enough. “Of course,” she said.

Luke studied her intently. “Is something else on your mind?”

“Not a thing,” she said, though she couldn’t seem to stop her gaze from straying once more to the empty street outside.

Luke’s expression turned knowing. “If you’re wondering where Bryan is, I’ve sent him on an errand, as I do every day or two around this time.”

“Bryan’s whereabouts are no concern of mine,” she said a little too quickly.

“Perhaps not, but that wouldn’t stop you from wondering, I suspect. There are fishermen coming in now. He’s gone to check on the catch and buy fresh fish for tonight’s menu if he likes what he finds.”

“Ah,” she said, a weight that wasn’t hers to be bearing lifting.

Just then there was a pounding on the back door that startled them both, followed by a very vocal stream of what sounded like colorful obscenities. Luke chuckled. “You locked the kitchen door, didn’t you?”

“I thought it needed to be secured with no one back there,” she said defensively. “I’ll let him in.”

“Stay right there. I think it’s best if I do it.” He grinned at her. “You might want to stay out of his path for a bit.”

“With pleasure,” she said. There had already been far too many unsettling encounters. Who knew where another one might lead? Certainly not to the peace and harmony Luke wanted among his staff.

* * *

Bryan’s day had gone from bad to worse, starting with a call from his private investigator informing him of yet another dead end. He should be used to those by now. If they’d been commonplace nineteen years ago, now there were even fewer leads to investigate, so fewer disappointments to be gotten through. Still, each one cut another slice out of his soul.

Then there had been the odd encounter with Kiera right before the lunch hour. Her offer of a sympathetic ear had thrown him, especially after he’d jumped all over her with his foul temper. He hadn’t leaned on anyone in so long, he had no idea how to deal with it.

And, then, just when his equilibrium was balancing out after the rough morning, Kiera—and there was no question that she was responsible, since everyone else knew the routine—had locked him out of the pub’s kitchen. He’d been left standing in the alley with heavy buckets of freshly filleted fish on ice. His sour mood had returned and, once more, she was smack at the center of it.

All of that had thrown him completely off his game. Distracted, he’d added far too much salt to the Irish stew and left an entire batch of fish and chips in the hot oil until smoke filled the kitchen. Fortunately, before it could set off the alarms he’d opened the back door and allowed the cool spring breeze to replace the scent of food that was fried beyond hope.

“Were you trying to burn the whole place to the ground?” Kiera inquired as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hands on her lush, well-rounded hips, regarding him with that superior attitude that had been getting on Bryan’s nerves since the day Luke had informed him that she was there as their latest “consultant,” direct from Ireland. Pain in the posterior was more like it, he thought, trying to intimidate her with a glare that always failed to have the desired effect. All of his carefully laid out plans to make peace with her were forgotten in the moment.

“Get out of my kitchen,” he ordered brusquely, hoping to stake his claim on the territory once and for all. Of course, she didn’t budge. If anything, his ire kicked up the heat in her temper.

“So it’s your kitchen, is it?” she asked. Gone in a flash was the more accommodating tone of this morning. “I was under the impression that it, like the rest of the pub, belonged to my son-in-law.”

“Technically, perhaps, but it’s my domain in here. As I believe I’ve mentioned before, I don’t need you hovering over me every minute. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes,” she said, her tone sarcastic. “I can see that from the smoke in the air.”