The Bachelor Takes a Bride (Those Engaging Garretts!) (11 page)

“I know.” She blew out a breath. “Logically, I know that. And it’s not as if I’m thinking about Brian when I’m with Marco. In fact, when I’m with Marco, I almost forget how much I loved Brian...and how devastated I was when I lost him.”

“It’s okay to be scared—any new relationship is scary.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I thought we were talking about sex.”

Tristyn shook her head. “Why are you fighting so hard to deny your feelings for Marco?”

“I’m not denying that I have feelings for him,” she said. “But I don’t think I need to pretend my heart goes pitter-patter just because he turns me on.”

“You don’t have to pretend anything,” her sister agreed. “Just be careful you’re not ignoring that pitter-patter because it’s inconvenient.”

* * *

Marco had a lot on his mind.

He had a meeting with the electrical inspector at the new restaurant at eleven o’clock, another meeting with the tile guy, an appointment at the bank and a liquor order to place. And yet, with everything else that should have been occupying his thoughts, he couldn’t stop thinking about Jordyn.

If he’d had any doubts about his conviction that she was the one, the kiss she’d planted on his lips the night before had obliterated them. The memory of that kiss had both fueled and haunted him throughout the day.

He was behind the bar at Valentino’s, finalizing the restaurant’s monthly liquor order, when Jordyn’s sister sat down. It was late afternoon, the lunch crowd had dispersed and the dinner crowd had yet to arrive, so she was the only one at the bar.

“What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a glass of chardonnay,” Tristyn said.

“Californian, Italian, Australian or South African?”

She considered the options for a moment. “The one with the house on the label?”

He smiled and selected a bottle from the wine fridge, showed her the label.

“That’s it,” she confirmed.

“It’s Italian,” he told her, then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “As all the best wines are.”

He poured her drink, then set the glass on a cocktail napkin in front of her. “While I’d never want to discourage a customer from coming here, I have to admit I’m curious about why you are here instead of at O’Reilly’s.”

“Well, for starters, if I asked for a glass of wine there, I’d have only two choices—red or white.”

He chuckled. “That’s a valid reason.”

“Also, I didn’t want my brain picked at and prodded.”

“As your sister would do,” he guessed.

She nodded.

“I won’t prod, but I will listen if you want to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m at a crossroads in my life and I haven’t figured out which direction I want to go.”

“But you don’t want to talk about it?”

“No. I want to know what your intentions are toward my sister.”

“My intentions?” He couldn’t prevent the smile that curved his lips. “Considering that—prior to last night—your sister refused to even go out with me, don’t you think that question is a little premature?”

“Considering that more than five weeks have passed since you first asked and she first said no and you didn’t stop asking, I don’t think it is.”

He nodded in acknowledgment of the fact. “In that case, I will tell you that my intention is to marry her.”

“Well,” she said. “No one could ever accuse you of dragging your feet.”

“She’s the one I’ve been waiting for,” he said simply.

She studied him for a long moment, as if to ascertain the sincerity of his words. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“She will.”

“Hold on to that confidence,” Tristyn said. “You’re going to need it. And probably a fair amount of patience, too.”

“I’ve got plenty of both,” he assured her. “I’ve also got a question for you.”

“You can ask—I can’t guarantee that I’ll answer.”

He nodded, accepting and appreciating her loyalty to her sister. “Do you think Jordyn’s still in love with her former fiancé?”

Apparently he’d surprised her again. “She told you about him?”

He nodded.

She eyed him thoughtfully. “Jordyn doesn’t talk about Brian. Ever.”

“She thought it would help me to understand why she won’t go out with me.”

“Obviously her confession didn’t have the desired effect.”

“I hate knowing that she was hurt, and I understand why she’d be reluctant to open her heart again, but I have to trust that she will, that what’s between us is too powerful to be denied.”

“You’re either an incredible romantic or a complete fool.”

“Let’s go with romantic,” he suggested.

She smiled at that. “I think you could be very good for her, Marco Palermo,
if
you manage to breach the walls she’s built around her heart.”

“Are you trying to dissuade me?”

“I’d be disappointed if you were dissuaded so easily.”

“And I never want to disappoint a pretty lady.”

She lifted her glass. “My money’s on you, Charm Boy.”

He winced. “She told you about that?”

“I’m her sister,” she reminded him. “She tells me everything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You should also keep in mind that women like flowers.”

“Is that a fact?”

She nodded. “Scientifically proven.”

“Any particular kind of flowers?”

“Of course.”

“And I’m supposed to guess?”

“Consider it a challenge in the game of seduction,” she told him. “If you guess right, you move one step closer to the bedroom. If you guess wrong, you go directly to the cold shower.”

Chapter Eleven

F
or as long as she’d worked at O’Reilly’s—and probably a lot of years before that, even—Wade Denton had been talking about retirement.

He’d bought the pub from the previous owner, Sean O’Reilly, for little more than a song. It had been the Wexford Arms back then, but because it was the pub owned by O’Reilly, it was more widely known as O’Reilly’s Pub. Wade tried to give it a new image and a new name, but he was more successful with the former than the latter. Sean O’Reilly’s pub had offered customers the choice of sitting at the U-shaped bar or square tables designed to accommodate four. If groups larger than that came in, he simply shoved two or more tables together.

The lighting was dim, the menu limited, but his customers were loyal. So much so that there had been grumbling and resistance when Wade installed booths around the perimeter of the restaurant, changed the light fixtures, installed a couple of televisions over the bar and expanded the menu to offer more than cottage pie, lamb stew, and fish and chips. And while the shiny new sign on the front might have said Crown & Castle, the locals still insisted on calling it O’Reilly’s.

After four years, Wade finally gave up, changing the sign again to officially adopt O’Reilly’s as its name. Eighteen years later, little else had changed. And while the customers were still loyal, they were hardly numerous, and from month to month, the pub’s books shifted between black and red.

Then Jordyn Garrett saw a help-wanted sign in the window and walked through the door.

She told him to get a satellite dish so customers could follow Premier League soccer, arguing that if they wanted to watch American football or basketball, they were going to drink their beer at the Bar Down. She introduced daily drink specials to bring in new customers and advertised those specials in the campus newspaper. Wade grumbled about spending money on advertising—until the college kids started finding their way to O’Reilly’s. He grumbled about sponsoring local recreational sports teams, too—until the players made O’Reilly’s their regular postgame stop.

And in October, it would be the twenty-fifth anniversary of Wade’s ownership of the pub. He liked to say that a quarter of a century was a good run—a long run. “More than long enough.” He planned to have a big party to commemorate the milestone event, and then he would be happy to walk away from the day-to-day responsibilities of pub ownership.

In the past six months, he’d begun talking more and more about his impending retirement and his desire to find someone to take over the business. He’d suggested, on more than one occasion, that Jordyn might be the right person, and she was looking forward to that opportunity.

So when Wade called her into his office, she figured he wanted to talk about either the twenty-fifth anniversary party or his retirement. She didn’t expect that their conversation would cause her own plans to begin to unravel.

* * *

“Of all the flower shops, in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine.”

Marco smiled at Rachel’s deliberate misquote of the famous movie line. “We could have had a love affair for the ages, but you never gave me a second look.”

“My heart always belonged to Andrew,” the pretty florist told him.

“He’s a lucky man,” Marco said.

“A fact I remind him of every day.”

He chuckled.

“So what’s the occasion?” she asked.

“Does there have to be an occasion?”

“Absolutely not,” Rachel said. “Any day that ends in a
y
is reason enough for flowers.”

“A good motto for a woman who makes her living selling them,” he mused.

She smiled. “Maybe I should have asked—who’s the special lady?”

“I’d rather not share that information just yet.”

“Now you’ve really piqued my curiosity,” she said.

“We’re in the early stages,” he confided. “Very early stages.”

“Then you want something simple. Something that lets her know you’ve been thinking about her but doesn’t make her worry that you’re obsessing over her.” Rachel sent him a look.

“I’m not obsessing.”

“Okay—does she have a favorite color or favorite flower?”

“Early stages,” he reminded her.

“Right.” She studied the buckets of flowers in the refrigerated case. “Let’s try...some hot pink carnations...bright orange gerberas and...yellow chrysanthemums.” She selected a few of each, gathered them together in her hand. “What do you think?”

“I like it.”

“I do, too,” she said. “But it needs a little something more...maybe some alstroemeria. Pink or orange?”

He studied the flowers she indicated. “Orange.”

“Good choice.” She added it to the bouquet in her hand. “And some green button poms.”

“You are truly an artist.”

She smiled. “And you’re as charming as ever. Vase or paper?”

“Paper,” he decided.

She nodded. “Do you want me to take care of the delivery for you?”

“I don’t think so—but nice try.” He took a few steps to sniff the white lilies in a decorative brass pot.

She grinned as she finished arranging the blooms. “It was worth a shot.” She gestured to the tray of cards beside the cash. “Card?”

“Not necessary.”

“You don’t want to make sure she knows they’re from you?”

“She’ll know,” he said confidently, picking up the lily and carrying it to the counter. “I’ll take this, too.”

He passed his credit card across the counter to pay for the flowers.

Rachel completed the transaction, then came around the counter with the completed arrangement.

“I hope she likes the flowers.” She kissed his cheek. “And I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you in her life.”

* * *

She was certain this was it—Wade was finally going to announce a date for his retirement and discuss the terms for Jordyn to take over O’Reilly’s. So she wasn’t just surprised but disappointed when she walked into her boss’s office at the assigned hour and found that he wasn’t alone.

“There she is,” Wade said to the man seated across from him. Then to Jordyn, “Come in—I want you to meet my nephew, Scott, from Kansas City.”

“Las Vegas,” Scott interjected. “I was born and raised in Kansas City, but I’ve been working in Las Vegas for the past few years.”

“Your nephew?” Jordyn didn’t understand why she’d been summoned to Wade’s office for this introduction, but she offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Scott.”

“You, too.”

He was young, tall and good-looking, and the way he smiled at her, he knew it.

“You’re in town visiting?” Jordyn asked.

“No,” Scott said. “I recently moved to Charisma.”

“Oh.”

“It’s good to have him here,” Wade said. “Especially now.”

She wanted to believe that he meant in North Carolina, but she suspected that he meant something different.

“Why especially now?” she asked, a sudden feeling of unease weighing on her shoulders.

“Because I want to get serious about retirement, and having Scott here to take over running the bar will let me do that.”

“Six months ago—” She had to pause to draw air into her lungs as the spots in front of her eyes warned that she’d stopped breathing. “Six months ago you said that I was going to take over running the bar.”

“What?”

“We talked about it. Not only six months ago but six months before that. In fact, we’ve been talking about it for almost two years.”

“I’m just going to...go...out,” Scott said, moving toward the door.

Wade nodded. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

Jordyn sank into a chair in front of her boss’s desk, her legs as hollow as her stomach. “You don’t remember those conversations?” she asked Wade when his nephew had gone.

“I remember the conversations,” he confirmed. “But come on, Jordyn—you’re a Garrett with a business degree from UNC.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I always assumed that your decision to work here was more about some kind of rebellion against your family than any desire to take up bartending as a career. To be honest, when you first walked through the front door, I didn’t think you’d last three days, never mind three years.”

“So for the last three years, you’ve just been waiting for me to walk out again?”

“And hoping like hell that you wouldn’t,” he admitted. “You know I couldn’t run this place without you.”

“But now you’re going to turn it over to your nephew?”

“Try to understand—he’s my sister’s kid and she was worried about him in Vegas.”

“I’ll try to understand,” she said, rising to her feet again and heading to the door. “So long as you understand why I’m not going to hang around tonight to train my future boss.”

* * *

Jordyn thought about going home when she left O’Reilly’s, but she was afraid that if she did, she’d sit around feeling sorry for herself all night. She considered stopping at Zahara’s for some retail therapy, but she wasn’t in the mood to shop. Instead, she went to Valentino’s and took a seat at the bar. She insisted that she wasn’t looking for Marco, but she felt let down not to find him there.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender, whose name tag identified him as Rafe, asked her.

“I’ll have a glass of the Stonechurch Vineyards pinot noir.” She shifted on her chair, trying to peer into the dining room to see if Marco had been enlisted to help out in there tonight.

Rafe poured the wine, set the glass in front of her. “Are you looking for someone?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not really. I just wondered if maybe Marco was working tonight.”

The bartender shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“Oh.” She was surprised at the depth of her disappointment. Or maybe it was the cumulative effect of so many little disappointments, starting from when she got up that morning and discovered there was no French vanilla coffee to finding out that her boss had never seen her as a potential partner but only an employee easily replaced by another.

“Did you want me to give Marco a call for you?” Rafe asked.

“No,” she said quickly, because she really wanted to say yes.

“In that case—” the bartender leaned a little closer “—you should know that anything Marco can do, I can do better.”

She managed a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hi, Jordyn,” Gemma greeted her as she passed the bar on her way to the kitchen. Then to Rafe, a definite note of warning in her tone, “Stop flirting with the customers.”

The bartender backed away, no evidence of his flirtatious smile remaining on his handsome face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were Jordyn.”

“Did I miss something?” she asked, intrigued by the short but obviously meaningful exchange.

He shook his head. “Just excuse me for a moment while I take my foot out of my mouth.”

“I didn’t realize you’d put your foot in it.”

“Good,” he said. “We’ll go with that. And if Marco asks—I definitely was
not
hitting on you.”

* * *

Jordyn sipped her wine and tried to rationalize Wade’s actions.

She understood his willingness to help out family, to give the kid a job, but to immediately offer him the keys to the kingdom—not that O’Reilly’s was much of a kingdom, but still—seemed not just extreme but unwise. Aside from the fact that Scott was his nephew, what did Wade really know about him? Did he have a head for business? What was his work ethic? On the other hand, at least her boss had been up-front about his intentions. Wouldn’t it have been worse, from her perspective, to let her retain her illusions about her future at O’Reilly’s, assuming that Wade had just hired his nephew to help out?

She glanced at her watch and decided it was time to go home. But she remembered that Tristyn had a date tonight—some guy she’d met while picking up lunch at the Corner Deli a few weeks back. Jordyn knew her sister had absolutely no interest in him and suspected that she’d accepted his invitation because he was the opposite of Josh Slater. Not that Tristyn would ever admit as much, but she was perverse that way.

Her usually decisive sister still hadn’t committed to Daniel’s offer to take over PR at GSR, but she’d been helping him out with some things, to give herself a feel for the job while still working at Garrett Furniture. Jordyn swallowed the last of her pinot noir and wondered if her cousin might have a job for her. Traveling with the team—getting out of Charisma for a while—might be just what she needed.

She set her empty glass down and Rafe immediately replaced it with a new one.

“Thanks,” she said. “But I should probably be going.”

“Hot date tonight?” he teased.

She managed a smile as she shook her head. “No, but I don’t want to be one of those pathetic women who hangs out at a bar drinking alone.”

“Beautiful women are never pathetic, only appealingly sad,” he assured her. “But if you really don’t want to drink alone—” He poured another glass of wine and set it on the bar.

In front of Marco, who settled onto the empty chair beside her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said back.

And inexplicably, her eyes filled with tears.

“That bad?” he asked.

She nodded.

He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, tucked it behind her ear. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She picked up the glass of wine she’d said she didn’t want and sipped. “The road I was traveling on toward my future just had a major roadblock dropped in the middle of it.”

Then she told him about the unexpected arrival of her boss’s nephew and Wade’s intention to groom Scott to take over the bar.

“Maybe it’s a sign for you to take a detour,” Marco suggested.

“I don’t want to take a detour,” she said stubbornly. Then, because she didn’t want to wallow any longer, “What are you doing in here on your night off?”

“I just thought I’d stop by.”

“Rafe called you,” she guessed.

“He might have mentioned that there was a really sexy woman sitting at the bar.”

“Are you sure he didn’t say ‘sullen’ rather than ‘sexy’?”

“I wouldn’t have left home for sullen,” he assured her.

She managed a smile.

“So why didn’t you call me?” he prompted.