Heart of the Sea, Page 3

  “Phone call.” He took a bite of the cookie as he watched her. The voice, Irish and smoky as a turf fire, was as straight-out sexy as the rest of her.

  “Well I’m making some tea here, as I’ve run out upstairs and don’t like to start my day without. Makes me cross.” She skimmed her gaze over him as she moved to the stove. “Will you have a cup to wash down the biscuit? Or must you go straight back to work?”

  “I can take a minute.”

  “You’re fortunate your employer’s not so strict. I’ve heard that Magee runs a very tight ship.”

  “So he does.”

  While the kettle heated, Darcy dealt with the pot. The man was better up close. She liked the sharp angles of his face, the little scar on his chin. It gave him a dangerous look, and she was so bloody weary of safe men. No wedding ring, she noted, though that didn’t always tell the tale.

  “You’ve come all the way from America,” she continued, “to work on his theater?”

  “That’s right.”

  “A long way from home. I hope you were able to bring your family with you.”

  “If you mean wife, I’m not married.” He broke the cookie in half, offered her a share.

  Amused, she took it. “That leaves you free to travel for your work, doesn’t it? And what is it you do?”

  “Whatever’s necessary.”

  Oh, yes, she thought and nibbled on the cookie. Just dangerous enough. “I’d say that makes you a handy man to have around and about.”

  “I’m going to be around and about here for some time yet.” He waited while she lifted the sputtering kettle, poured the boiling water into the pot. “Would you like to have dinner?”

  She sent him a long sidelong glance, added a hint of a smile. “Sure I like a good meal now and then, and interesting company with it. But I’m just back from my holiday and won’t have time off for a bit. My brother Aidan’s a hard man with a schedule.”

  “How about breakfast?”

  She set the kettle down. “I might enjoy that. Perhaps you’ll ask me again in a day or two, once I’ve settled back in.”

  “Perhaps I will.”

  She was vaguely surprised, and a little disappointed that he hadn’t pursued the invitation then and there. She was used to men pleading a bit. But she turned, took out a thick mug for his tea. “What part of America are you from, then?”

  “New York.”

  “New York City?” Her eyes sparkled as she turned back. “Oh, is it wonderful?”

  “A lot of it is.”

  “It has to be the most exciting city in the world.” She cupped the mug in both hands as she imagined it, as she’d imagined it countless times before. “Maybe not the most beautiful. I thought Paris so beautiful—female and sly and sexual. I think of New York as a man— demanding and reckless and so full of energy you have to run to keep up.”

  Amused at herself, she set down his mug. “It probably doesn’t strike you that way since you’re used to being there your whole life.”

  “I doubt you think of Ardmore, or this area, as magic.” He saw her eyebrow arch up again at his words. “As a small and nearly perfect corner of the world where you can reach back or forward in time as suits you. And while there’s energy here, it comes with patience so you don’t have to run to keep up.”

  “It’s interesting, isn’t it, how people see what’s the everyday to someone else?” She poured out his tea. “I’d think a man who can philosophize so easily over tea and biscuits might be wasting his talents hauling bricks.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tea.” He moved toward the door, passing close enough to appreciate that she smelled every bit as good as she looked. “I’ll bring back the mug.”

  “Mind you do. Shawn knows his kitchen supplies down to the last spoon.”

  “Come to the window again sometime,” he added as he opened the door. “I liked looking at you.”

  She smiled to herself when he left. “Well, now, that goes both ways, New York City.”

  Debating how she would answer him the next time he asked her out, she picked up the pot of tea to carry it upstairs. The back door flew open.

  “You’re back.”

  Brenna took one leap inside. Little pellets of drying cement flew.

  “Keep your distance.” Darcy held up the pot like a shield. “Christ Jesus, Brenna, you have as much of that muck on your person as you do on the brick.”

  “Block, and not by any means. Don’t worry, I won’t hug you.”

  “Damn right you won’t.”

  “But I missed you.”

  Though she was touched, Darcy let out a snort. “You’re too busy being a newlywed to have missed me.”

  “I can do both. Can you spare a cup of that? I’ve ten minutes coming.”

  “All right, then, but get some old newspaper to put on the chair before you sit down. I missed you too,” Darcy admitted as she took out another mug.

  “I knew you would. I still say it was adventurous of you to go off to Paris like that by yourself. Did you love it?” Brenna asked as she dutifully laid out newspaper. “Was it everything you wanted it to be?”

  “It was, yes. Everything about it: the sounds and the scents, the buildings, the shops and cafe¥s. I could’ve spent a month just looking. Now if they’d just learn to make a decent cup of tea.” She sipped at her own. “But I made out fine with wine. Everyone dresses so smart, even when they aren’t trying to. I got some marvelous clothes. The shopkeepers are very aloof and act as if they’re doing you a great favor in taking your money. I found it added to the overall experience.”

  “I’m glad you had a good holiday. You look rested.”

  “Rested? I barely slept the whole week. I’m . . . energized,” Darcy decided. “Of course, I’d planned to lay like a slug until I had to get up for work this morning, but that noise outside’s enough to keep the dead alert.”

  “You’ll have to get used to that. We’re making fine progress.”

  “Not from my window. It looks like a rubble heap, with ditches.”

  “We’ll have the foundation finished and the plumbing roughed in by the end of the week. It’s a good crew, the ones from New York are well trained, and the ones from here Dad and I picked ourselves. Magee doesn’t tolerate slackers. And he knows every step of putting a building up, so you’d better be on your toes.”

  “Which tells me you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “Tremendously. And I’d best get back to it.”

  “Wait. I got you a present.”

  “I was counting on it.”

  “I’ll go up and get it. I don’t want you tracking through my rooms.”

  “I was counting on that, too,” Brenna commented as Darcy hurried up the stairs.

  “It’s not boxed,” Darcy called down. “It was easier to pack just keeping it in a bag. Jude was wise in telling me to take an extra suitcase as it was. But yours didn’t take up much room.”

  She came back with a small shopping bag, then narrowed her eyes at Brenna’s hand. “I’ll take it out for you.” She slid out a thin bundle wrapped in tissue, carefully uncovered it, then held it up.

  Brenna’s mouth fell open.

  “Shawn’s going to love it,” Darcy decided.

  It was a short, narrow-strapped nightgown in a shimmering green that was nearly transparent. “He’d have to be a complete dunderhead not to,” Brenna agreed once she had her voice back. “I’m trying to imagine wearing that.” Slowly wicked amusement brightened her eyes. “I think I’ll love it, too. It’s beautiful, Darcy.”

  “I’ll keep it for you until you’re cleaned up and ready to go home.”

  “Thanks.” Brenna kissed Darcy on the cheek, mindful not to transfer any dirt. “I won’t say I’ll think of you when I’m wearing it, nor do I think you’d want me to.”

  “That I don’t.”

  “Don’t let Shawn see it,” Brenna added as she started out. “I’ve a mind to surprise him.”

  It was almo
st too easy to fall back into routine. Though Shawn refused to bicker with her because she’d bought him a fancy French cookbook in Paris, everything else just slipped right into place. As if, she thought, she’d never been away. For the life of her, Darcy wasn’t sure if that pleased or annoyed her.

  The lunch shift kept her busy. Added to the regulars were the tourists who were beginning to come in packs for the season, and added to them were the men hired to work on the theater.

  Only half-twelve, Darcy thought, and not a single empty table in the place. She was grateful Aidan had hired Sinead on for an extra pair of hands. But Mother of God, the girl was slower than a snail with a limp.

  “Miss! We’re still waiting to order.”

  Darcy caught the tone, British, public school, annoyed, and put her best smile on her face. It was Sinead’s station, but the girl was off God knew where. “I’m so sorry. What would you like to have today?”

  “We’ll both have today’s special, and a glass of Smithwick’s.”

  “I’ll have your drinks right back to you.” She wove her way to the bar, taking three more orders as she went. Moving fast, she scooted under the pass-through, called out the drinks to Aidan, and swung straight into the kitchen.

  Grace under pressure, Trevor noted. He’d slipped in and joined some of his crew at a back table. The perfect vantage point, he decided, to watch the very attractive Miss Gallagher at work.

  There was a light of battle in her eye when she came back out of the kitchen, and there it remained no matter how brightly she chatted up the customers. She served drinks and food, showering goodwill over the patrons. But Trevor noted that those sharp blue eyes were scanning. And when they lit on Sinead as the girl wandered back in from the direction of the rest rooms, they fired.

  Oh, honey, Trevor thought, you are meat. She’s going to chew you up and spit you out.

  Which, he thought, was precisely how he would have dealt with a lazy employee.

  He gave Darcy full marks for holding her temper and doing no more than giving the new waitress a fulminating look and a quick order to tend to her stations. A busy lunch hour wasn’t the time for a dressing-down. He imagined Sinead’s ears would be burned off after shift.

  And he figured it was his lucky day, as Darcy was even now working her way back to his table.

  “And what can I get you fine, handsome men this afternoon?” She got out her pad, then focused those glorious eyes on Trevor. “You look hungry.”

  “You can’t go wrong with the special at Gallagher’s,” Trevor said.

  “That you can’t. Will you have a pint to go with it?”

  “Tea. Iced.”

  Now she rolled her eyes. “That’s a Yank’s way of ruining a perfectly good pot of tea. But we’ll accommodate you. And for you gentlemen?”

  “I sure like the way y’all do fish and chips.”

  Darcy smiled at the scrawny man with a pleasantly homely face. “My brother will appreciate that. And where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking, for that’s a lovely accent.”

  “Georgia, ma’am. Donny Brime from Macon, Georgia. But I’ve never heard anyone talk prettier than you. And I’d love some of that iced tea like the boss here.”

  “And just when I was thinking you must have some Irish in you. And for you, sir?”

  “I’ll have the meat pie, fries—I mean chips—on the side, and . . .” The burly man with a scraggly dark beard slid a sorrowful glance at Trevor. “Make it iced tea all around.”

  “I’ll be back with your drinks quick as I can.”

  “Now, that,” Donny said with a long sigh as Darcy walked away, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my entire life. Makes you glad to be a man, doesn’t it, Lou?”

  Lou stroked his beard. “I’ve got a fifteen-year-old daughter, and if I caught a man looking at her the way I figure I just looked at that tasty little dish there, I’d have to kill him.”

  “Your wife and daughter still planning on coming over?” Trevor asked him.

  “As soon as Josie’s out of school. ’Nother couple of weeks.”

  Trevor settled back while his two men talked of family. There was no one waiting for him at home, or looking forward to the day she could fly over and join him. It wasn’t something that troubled him. It was better to live alone than to make a mistake, as he’d nearly done.

  Living alone meant he could come and go as he needed to, as his business demanded. And without the guilt or tension that regular travel could add to a relationship. No matter how much his mother might pine for him to settle down and give her grandchildren, the simple fact was that his life ran more efficiently solo.

  He glanced at a nearby table where a young family was crowded together. The woman was doing her best to distract a fussy infant while the man frantically mopped up the soft drink their whining toddler had just managed to spill all over everything.

  Nothing efficient about it, Trevor mused.

  Darcy delivered their tea, apparently unaffected by the fact that the toddler had gone from whine to wail. “Your meals will be out directly, and if you’ve a need for more tea, just give me a sign.” Still smiling, she turned to the next table and handed the young father a stack of napkins, all the while waving away his apologies.

  “Oh, it’s not so much of a thing, is it, little man?” She crouched down to the little boy’s level. “Wipes up, doesn’t it, but such things scare off the faeries. You might lure them back if they weren’t afraid your tears would flood them out again.”

  “Where are the faeries?” he demanded in the testy voice of a child who desperately needs a nap.

  “Oh, they’re hiding now, but they’ll come back when they’re sure you mean them no harm. Could be they’ll be dancing around your bed next time you lay your head on your pillow. I bet your sister’s seeing them now.” Darcy nodded toward the baby, who had drifted off to sleep. “That’s why she’s smiling.”

  The boy subsided into sniffles and watched his sister sleep with both suspicion and interest.

  That, Trevor thought as she moved on to the next table, was efficient.

  THREE

  “NOW, SINEAD, CAN we go over the things we talked about when I hired you?”

  With the pub cleared between shifts, and her brothers ordered out, Darcy sat across from her new waitress. Aidan ran the pub, it was true, and Shawn ruled the kitchen, but it was understood that when it came to the serving, Darcy held the controls.

  Sinead shifted her skinny butt on the stool and tried to concentrate. “Well, you said as to how I was to take the orders in a friendly manner.”

  “Aye, that’s true.” Darcy sipped her soft drink and waited. “And what else do you remember?”

  “Ah . . .”

  Jesus God, Darcy thought, can the girl do anything faster than the pace of a turtle?

  “Well.” Sinead chewed her lip and drew little patterns on the table with her fingertips. “That I was to make certain that the right food and drink was served, again in a friendly manner, to the proper customers.”

  “And do you remember, Sinead, anything about the taking and serving of those orders in an efficient and timely manner as well?”

  “I do, yes.” Sinead dropped her gaze to her own glass, all but pinned her eyes to it. “It’s all so confusing, Darcy, with everyone wanting something, and at the same time.”

  “That may be, but you see, the thing with a pub is people tend to come in wanting something, and our job is to see they get it. You can’t do your job if you hide in the loo half your shift.”

  “Jude said I was coming along.” Sinead raised her eyes now, and they brimmed with tears.

  “That won’t work with me.” Darcy leaned forward. “Filling your eyes up and letting tears shimmer only works on men and soft hearts, and that’s not what you’re dealing with here. So sniff them back, girl, and listen.”

  The sniff was more of a wet snuffle, but Darcy nodded. “You came to me asking for work and promising that you’d work hard. No
w, it’s barely three weeks since that day, and you’re already slacking. I’m asking you straight out, and you answer in the same manner. Do you want this job?”

  Sinead dabbed at her eyes. The new mascara she’d purchased out of her first week’s pay smeared. Some might have found the look pitiful and softened. Darcy only thought the girl needed to practice shedding tears with more grace.

  “I do. I need the work.”

  “Needing work and doing work are two different matters.” As you’re about to discover, Darcy decided. “I want you back here in two hours for the evening shift.”

  Tears dried up quickly with sheer shock. “But I’ve the night off.”

  “Not anymore, you don’t. You’ll come back prepared to do the job you’re paid to do if you want to keep it. I want you moving smartly from table to table, from table to kitchen and back again. If something confuses you or there’s something you don’t remember or understand, you can come to me and I’ll help you out. But . . .”

  She paused, waiting until Sinead met her eyes again. “I won’t tolerate you leaving your stations. You’ve got to pee, that’s fine, but each time I note you sliding into the back and staying over five minutes at it, I’m docking you a pound.”

  “I’ve . . . got a bladder problem.”

  Darcy would have laughed if it hadn’t been so pathetic. “Now that’s bullshit and the both of us know it. If you had any problems with your plumbing I’d’ve heard, as your mother would have told Brenna’s mother and so it would have come to my ears.”

  Trapped, Sinead shifted from apologetic to pout. “But a pound, Darcy!”

  “Aye, a pound, so consider before you nip off what it’s costing you.” Which, she already decided, would go into her own wish jar, as she’d be the one taking up the slack.

  “We’ve a reputation here at Gallagher’s that’s generations in the making,” she continued. “You work for us, you meet the standards we set. If you can’t or won’t, you get the boot. This is your second chance, Sinead. You won’t get a third.”

  “Aidan’s not so hard as you.”

  Darcy lifted a brow as Sinead’s bottom lip trembled.

  “Well, now, you’re not dealing with Aidan, are you? You’ve two hours. Be on time, or I’ll assume you’ve decided this isn’t the job for you.”

  “I’ll be here.” Obviously irked, Sinead got to her feet. “I can handle the work. It’s nothing but hauling trays about. Doesn’t take any brains.”

  Darcy sent her the most pleasant of smiles. “There you are, then.”

  “When I save enough money so I can marry Billy, I’m leaving all of this behind me.”

  “That’s a fine ambition. But this is today. Go on now and walk off your temper before you say something you’ll be sorry for later.”

  Darcy sat where she was as Sinead strode across the room. Since she’d expected the girl to slam the door, she only rolled her eyes at the bullet crack of it. “If she used half that energy for the job, we wouldn’t have had this pleasant little chat.”

  She shrugged her shoulders to relieve some of the tension, curled her toes in her shoes to work out some of the ache, then got to her feet. Gathering the glasses, she turned to carry them to the bar. And Trevor came through the kitchen door.

  That, she thought, was a fine example of what God had intended when he’d designed man. He might look a tad rough and dirty from the day’s work, but it didn’t mar the appeal.

  “We’re closed at the moment,” she told him.