De Lucci’s Obsession

There was a line out the door for breakfast.

Mom wasn’t kidding when she said that Eamonn’s was mobbed. Inwardly smiling at my pun-y statement, I bypassed the crowd and headed down to the alley. She called me at seven this morning to ask me if I could skip classes because they were already getting slammed.

So here I was. All my midterms were done. I’d been already thinking of puttering around the house for the morning before I went in to help for lunch rush.

And I was glad I came. Poor Sheila and three other waitresses were in the weeds. Bangers and mash flew out the kitchen non-stop from breakfast until ten. Then the pendulum swung to the highlights of The New York Times review—the Irish Stew and the Shepherd’s Pie. We made a decision to close the doors temporarily at three to get a breather.

It was four-thirty, and the line had been building again outside. Sean took off early from work so he could help at the bar. Robert agreed to come in later tonight. Sheila joked about having the three hot McGrath brothers working behind the bar being another draw.

Tommy and I laughed, but Mom didn’t think it was funny.

She was shaving potatoes for the Shepherd’s Pie which we couldn’t seem to keep in stock. I was helping out chopping root vegetables for the other crowd pleaser—the Irish stew. Mom brought in stock pots that had been kept in storage for the last few years. That was saying something.

When one compared Branna McGrath and me, you couldn’t tell that I was a fruit of her loins. Mom was dark-haired. She was five-eight—an inch taller than me, and she had ample hips and breasts compared to my coltish figure. Being so different from the rest of my siblings, I used to wonder if I was adopted. When I was eight, I asked my dad since he was the only other one with red hair. He said I took after his paternal grandmother’s side of the family. Long limbs, red hair, and freckles. My translucent blue eyes came from Mom. When our eyes were illuminated at a certain angle there was almost a light inside. Charles said it was freaky.

After finishing with the carrots, I laid down my knife. “Done. What else?”

“Take a break in the office,” Mom said. “It’s looking like a crazy night.”

“Isn’t it amazing?”

She lowered the potato peeler and rounded the counter to give me a tight squeeze, brushing hair that must have escaped my ponytail away from my face. “I’m sorry if I’ve been such a nag to you about the catering job.”

“You had reasons,” I said.

“I feel like we’re just taking charity from the people who were responsible for your dad’s imprisonment.”

“I know, Mom, but you changed your mind now, right?” I told her. “We have a great thing here. Gramps’ legacy. He started a good thing.”

We’d had these conversations before. Sometimes she blamed the bad luck that dad brought into this place. Blood money. I remembered the story of the time he hauled in several boxes of whiskey which were confiscated from a guy who couldn’t pay his debt. He and Mom had a fight about that. He thought he was helping with the bottom line.

“It just brings back bad memories,” she said. “Your dad and Charles … they are grown-arse, fecking men. That is on them, and they paid the price. Well …” Her mouth twisted. “Cillian still is.”

“Don’t get yourself worked up now.” I was only partly kidding because when Mom started cursing with a hint of Ireland in her tone, she was gearing up for a rant.

She heaved and resumed peeling potatoes. “Thanks for the reminder. I’ve wasted enough grief over it.” She glanced at me again. “I’m really sorry, Ava. I give you less credit than you deserve. That dinner and that restaurant review were just what we needed to turn our luck around.”

“Luck of the Irish,” I laughed.

Mom harrumphed. “That O’Toole’s is run by Russians. They deserve no luck.”

“Hell, yeah.”

She looked up from peeling potatoes. “So tell me about school. You had exams, right?”

“Yep. I think I aced them.”

“I should know better than to worry about you. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re twenty-three, not fifteen. You’re graduating in a year and making good grades.” She quirked a brow. “I still think you have a lot of your dad in you, but I’m thinking your good traits came from me.”

I laughed. “I’m your most well-balanced child.”

Mom joined me in laughter. “Don’t let Robert hear that.”

I rolled my eyes. Sean may be the oldest, but Robert was the most competitive.

I left the kitchen and headed to the office where Mads was keeping the kids. She’d been helping at the cash register while keeping Kelly behind the bar, but when it got busy, Ronan was in charge of watching over her and Callum in the office.

It was quite a family business.

“Ready for round two?” I teased her.

“I can’t believe the line out the door. Did you see it?”

“No. I imagine it’s double the one from this morning and I, for one, didn’t want to be intimidated.”

“They usually give more warning than that at The New York Times. I heard from Sheila that the critic thought with the public still romanticizing the mob it would be a good draw for the food section.”

“I’m not complaining. I need to thank Paulie for the business.”

“Paulie or his brother?” Mads teased with a gleam in her eye.

“You think I should call him?” I worried my bottom lip. “I don’t want to give him the wrong idea that I changed my mind about dating him.”

I tossed and turned the night before and hugged the silly pillow, wanting his scent around me.

“This thing happened so fast between you two, we didn’t even get a chance to have our girl talk.”

“Right?” I huffed. Although truthfully, I had no idea what Cesar and I were. The only normal order of things we did was the pizza date. Even that was questionable because there was some coercion involved.

“I’m your BFF, right?” Mads asked.

“Yes, you are.” Growing up as the youngest and the only girl among four siblings and having a mom busy running Eamonn’s, I didn’t learn the finer things of being a girly-girl until Robert met Madeleine. My sister-in-law took me in hand and taught me how to use make-up, she introduced me to her salon stylist, and we had spa days. She even got my mother to go with us on occasion. Mom had only known hard work since taking over the pub at twenty-two and pampering herself wasn’t on her radar.

Yes, I’d learned to put on make-up and wear a dress. I’d even splurged on a pair of second-hand Manolo Blahniks, but I still preferred my Keds and Dr. Martens.

“We’ll talk soon. Promise,” I told her.

There was a rap on the door and Charles poked his head in. “You ready for round two, teacup? We’re about to let the horde in.”

“Oh my God, I can’t feel my feet,” Sheila moaned, leaning against the bar and bending one leg up and then the other. “I need a raise.”

“You’re getting overtime pay,” Mads said.

“Can I get a free massage too?” She made eyes at Charles who was busy getting the beer flowing.

“Hey, eyes off my bro,” I told her, squeezing into the space near the hinged door of the bar. “Where are my three Guinnesses and a Bud?

“Coming right up,” Sean yelled over his shoulder.

I leaned over to Sheila. “Did you notice the groups of women huddled by the bar?”

She laughed. “We should have used the McGrath brothers as advertisement sooner.”

Mads rolled her eyes. “Please hold me back when Robert gets here, and some bitch leans over and gives him an eyeful of cleavage.”

“Hey, he might make good tips,” I tongue-in-cheeked. “Think about that.”

My sister-in-law scowled at us, and Sheila and I cackled like banshees.

We were two hours into dinner service and the neck-and-neck bestsellers were the stew and the pie. For dessert, hands down, it was Irish cheesecake. Since the liquor in the dessert helped its shelf-life, baking extra was not a problem if it wasn’t consumed immediately. I swore it tasted better after spending twenty-four hours in the fridge anyway.

I loaded the beers on the tray and headed over to a group of preppy types, men in Chinos, checked polos, and argyle. “Gentlemen, are you ready to order?”

A blond wearing a navy blazer who looked like he stepped out of a GQ magazine leaned toward me and said, “I want the special right in front me.”

Although I gave him a look that bordered on an eyeroll, I played along and pretended to glance behind me. “Guess you mean me? Sorry, I’m not part of the menu.”

“That’s such a shame, but can I have your number?” The controlled smirks between the four guys at the table clued me in on a possible bet.

Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t in the mood to play. “Look, I’d love to come back and give you guys more time to decide what you want for dinner, but as you can see”—I cocked my head to where Sheila was doubling as seating hostess—“we’re packed.” And I communicated with my eyes that other guests would be more than thrilled to take their place.

Navy Blazer gave a self-deprecating grin. Not that I thought he was embarrassed. I’d waited tables since I was sixteen, and with three older brothers, I’d been schooled on different male tactics. That guy knew he looked hot, making sure to show his dimple on his chiseled jaw. However, my libido slanted toward tall, dark, dangerous men at the moment and not sunny, all-American, Ivy Leaguers.

Realizing I wasn’t going to play their game, they asked for recommendations. I pushed the pork tenderloin since it deserved attention and was underrated.

After taking their orders, I sprinted back to the hostess podium, depositing the menus, and hurried to the kitchen to hand in my ticket.

“Oh my,” Mads breathed when I returned to the bar to get my next drink orders.

“What?”

My line of vision followed hers to where she was staring at the entrance.

Cesar. He was with Eric.

And his eyes were zeroed in on me.

Sheila, recognizing him, waved him through, and he headed straight for me while Eric found an empty spot by the bar and checked the drink menu.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered.

His face was unsmiling. “You weren’t at the University.”

“I had to help out.”

He looked around and frowned. “Busy night?”

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a food critic at your dinner on Sunday?”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured,” he muttered. “It helped?”

“Obviously. But how did you find out I was here?”

He looked at me as if I’d committed a grievous crime. “I went to your apartment. You weren’t there either. I called you and left you messages.”

“I was here all day.”

He raked fingers through his hair which was already mussed up as though he’d been at it for hours. “I thought you were hiding from me.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Two buds, a Guinness, and a whiskey.” Charles lowered my drinks on the bar. He nodded stiffly at the man beside me. “Cesar.”

“Charles.”

I wasn’t surprised they knew each other.

“Something going on between you two?” my brother asked. Sean came up behind him, eyes on Cesar as well.

“For heaven’s sake,” I said. “Don’t you guys have something better to do besides this big brother act.”

“It’s not an act,” Charles said, not taking his eyes off Cesar. “Not when it comes to him.”

I looked past my brothers imploringly at Mads.

“Come on, you all,” she laughed. “Talk about this later. Busy night.”

If it were up to me, there would be no talking at all.

I loaded the drink orders on the tray and left Cesar at the bar. He shadowed me. Hungry and tired, my temper spiked. I stopped on the way to my table and glared at him. “I’m working.”

“And I’m following you until you give me five minutes.”

“Five minutes for what?”

His eyes flattened. “Do you really want me to show you here in the middle of the room?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” His head dipped, and his face was scant breadth from mine. Even without looking around, I could feel every pair of eyes in the pub switch to us with interest.

I huffed in irritation and proceeded to my table. Thankfully, it was a four-top of older couples and I got their orders sorted away without the risk of a preppy guy trying to get my number.

One of the women made fun of Cesar. “Is this a new thing, dearie? Men in suits as trainees?”

“No, just one of my admirers,” I replied.

“Make him work for it,” the other woman called as I turned to walk away.

“Oh, I will,” Cesar drawled, making the two sixty-something-year-old women swoon.

“You’re such a Lothario, aren’t you?” I shook my head at him in a combination of amusement and irritation.

“Just making sure everyone here knows you’re mine.”

Because of the chatter in the pub, I wasn’t quite sure I heard him.

“What?”

He ducked his head and said in my ear, “Every man in here should know you belong to me.”

Rearing back with suspicion, I glanced at the table where the preppies were sitting, and Navy Blazer was scowling at us.

I switched my gaze back in time to catch Cesar in a staring match with preppy guy, before he locked eyes with me.

“Were you outside watching me?” I demanded.

He gave an infinitesimal nod of his head.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

I edged past him and headed to the bar but flung over my shoulder. “You’re crazy.”

However, I wanted to double-back, because now, Mom, Tommy, Sean, Charles, and Robert—who must have just arrived—were huddled at the corner of the bar witnessing Cesar’s unmistakable pursuit of me. Mads was the only one working the cash register, and she was doing a poor job of hiding her delight.

“Order up, Ava,” Tommy grinned.

“We haven’t met,” Cesar said smoothly, extending his hand to my mother. As handshakes were exchanged, I loaded up my tray with the preppies’ orders. But before I lifted it, I glared at Cesar. “You’re not tailing me this time. I mean it.”

He smiled lazily and, then, before I knew what he was going to do, he kissed me lightly on the lips. “I think I’ve made my point, cara.”

My gaze fell past Cesar’s shoulder and on my family. I couldn’t decipher all their varying expressions, so I griped, “Are we standing around now? We’re a full house.”

Cesar

“She’s bossy, isn’t she?” Ava’s brother Robert walked up to my side.

I glanced at him briefly. “I’m aware.”

My attention returned to Ava. She was making her way to the group of men who flirted with her earlier—the same group that triggered me to stake my claim. The man who’d been flirting with her barely lifted his gaze when she lowered his order in front of him.

That’s right, fucker. She’s mine.

“Tommy and I are heading back to the kitchen.” Ava’s mother said from behind me.

Turning around, I told her, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. McGrath.”

Her smile was far from friendly. “That remains to be seen, but from where I’m standing, my daughter’s got this handled. Thank you for the bump in business.”

She split a look between Robert and Sean, and I couldn’t discern whether it meant to leave me alone or put the fear of God in me—or the McGrath wrath. Their father was called Red Cillian after all, and despite wearing the fine threads of an office worker, the sons were regulars at the boxing gym.

When she disappeared into the kitchen with the chef, Robert slung an arm around my shoulder. It wasn’t a move I tolerated from any man, allowing them to be this close that they could slit my throat. But I gave Ava’s brother a pass.

“From what I gathered last night, my sister is done with you,” he said.

“She misunderstood.”

“Is that right?” Sean moved to block my view of Ava, crossing his arms. These men wanted my full attention. “Because between Robert and me, we could make your situation here in New York uncomfortable.”

I kept my expression neutral even when I wanted to grit my teeth, although it was laughable if they thought they could pin any criminal activity on me. That was what uncomfortable meant to Sean.

“I’d be protective too if I had a sister as beautiful as Ava.” Going diplomatic was always my first option, but the possessive beast inside me simply couldn’t be contained. “But no one is getting in between me and Ava. Not even her family.”

Robert gave my shoulder a squeeze and patted my back. Yes, her brother was pushing it. I caught Eric’s amused eyes at the end of the bar as if asking … “need help?”

I communicated that I could handle these fuckers.

“Tough guy, this one,” Sean smirked. “Not sure if I want to slug him or buy him a beer.”

“I’m open to either,” I replied and pointedly looked past him to check on Ava. She stopped at another table, but she was casting worried glances our way.

“Hey, you two,” Ava’s sister-in-law walked up to us. “Stop giving Cesar a hard time. You’re not making it easier on Ava. He’s her problem, right?”

I shot her my most charming grin.

She transferred her attention to her husband. “Have you even said hello to the kids in the office? Mom said she was done in the kitchen and coming home with us. I expect you’re going to be late tonight. And Sean, go help Charles.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sauntering over to where Eric sat, he slid me a glass of whiskey. His thoughts were written all over his face. Stronzo thought this shit was hilarious.

“I took the liberty of ordering you one. Thought you would need it.” He grinned. “I also saved you the trouble of wondering if they’d poisoned your drink.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking a nip of the amber liquid and turning around so I could face the dining area. Ava passed me and shook her head as though she still couldn’t believe I was there.

Eric seemed to pick up our silent exchange and said, “So is it worth it going through the hassle of meeting the family?”

“I’ve waited long enough.” I wasn’t waiting another second to let them know I was in the picture.

“Are you fast-tracking this because you’re not sure how things will turn out with Lodestone?”

Lodestone was a code we used for our real purpose here in New York.

“In a way.” I tossed back my whiskey and caught Charles’ eyes and asked for another. Eric wasn’t wrong that I wanted my hooks in Ava just in case things blew up in my face.

Robert being her brother wasn’t ideal, but the investigation into him led me to her. Or back to her. I never expected Paulie’s friend to grow into a woman who’d become my obsession. Thinking about her past boyfriends made me want to hunt them down and take a tire iron to their faces. She’d had two. I wasn’t her first. But I sure as fuck was gonna be her last.

My gaze followed her flitting around the pub. She stopped to take orders at another table, but our eyes locked for a few seconds before she shook her head again and focused on her customers.

I didn’t imagine the electricity between us.

Ava was not escaping me tonight.