Page 15 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love

“Fine.” The terse word left his lips without thought. He grabbed the broom from her hand, sweeping the shards with unnecessary vigor. Kelley held up her hands in surrender. He was being an ass, he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. Today he’d received yet another resounding “no” for a bank loan. He didn’t own a home, have a proven track record with loan payments, and being only a quarter owner of Jack’s, couldn’t use that as collateral without the signature of his siblings. Yeah right, like his brothers would ever agree to that. After five days of denial after denial, he finally had to admit it.

No one was going to give him a loan.

And without a loan, he couldn’t get the cash for the restaurant. Without the cash his risk-averse brothers would shut down his idea, therefore relegating Del to be the screw-off sibling forever. Dammit! The plan was solid. Why could no one see that? His teacher sure had when the guy suggested Del take his senior project into the real world. Professor Fines had been so impressed he requested a table on opening night.

Maybe the guy had been blowing smoke up his ass.

Doubt wormed in the back of his brain. An insidious little bitch he couldn’t get rid of. Maybe everyone was right, and this idea was stupid. Teachers were supposed to be encouraging, right? Professor Fines probably just wanted to boost his ego. Give the metaphorical gold star.

Shit, he could use a gold star right about now. At least then he’d have something to pawn.

Having exhausted all his options in the banking industry, Del didn’t know what step to take next. The internet was always an option. But crowdfunding took time, and there was no guarantee of meeting the goal. He needed the down payment his brothers required in less than a month.

As he threw the broken pieces of glass into the trash can—there’s another two bucks he’d have to scrounge up for the tight-ass twins—the sound of forced laughter drew his gaze. He glanced at the back table where Cassandra sat with yet another date. This guy looked even worse than the last four. Hair mussed, a weird yellow stain on the front of his pants, and did his shirt really say… He squinted. Holy shit, it did. The guy actually wore a shirt with FBI: Federal Boobie Inspector emblazoned in big white letters.

No wonder Cassie looked ready to deck the guy.

He chuckled as he put the broom away. Man, she was batting a zero. He didn’t understand why marrying some guy just to get a house was so important to her. But hey, his brothers didn’t seem to understand why he needed this restaurant idea to happen either, so who was he to judge?

An idea started to form in the back of his brain, but before he could process it, Cassie stood, flipped her date off, and headed to the bar. Del grabbed the vodka and started making her a martini as she plunked down at the counter.

“What the hell is wrong with your gender?” She clenched her hands as if strangling the entire male population. “I am seriously thinking about switching teams.”

He smiled, grabbing a glass—not dropping it this time. As he poured, he noticed her date glance at her, shake his head, and mutter something before storming out of the distillery.

“Hey, Kelley!” She called down the bar to his co-worker. “Wanna get married?”

Kelley shook her head. “Sweetie, you know I love you, but you have a serious Colin O’Donoghue addiction, and we both know that’s a deal breaker. Plus,” the woman motioned to herself. “You wouldn’t know what to do with all this.”

“Fine,” Cassie grumbled. “You’re right. It would just make things so much easier. Men are pigs.”

“Oink, oink.” Del passed her the finished drink with a wink.

She mumbled the mixer-god phrase before taking a big swig. “As stupid as that annoying thing you make me say is, you do make a damn good martini, Del. Thank you.”

“I’ve also been told I bear a striking resemblance to Colin O’Donoghue.” He bobbed his eyebrow, teasing her like normal. But then something happened.

The idea in his brain clicked, and a light bulb flicked on. He’d heard of people having clarifying moments before, but he’d never actually believed it, until now. The answer to their problems was so clear it practically punched him in the face.

Knowing himself to run half-cocked when excited, he tossed the thought over in his mind for a minute or two. After he’d taken care of a few more drink orders and had a lull in the flow, he made his way back to Cassie, who was just finishing off her martini. With a deep breath, he went over his idea one more time.

Yeah, it would work. The plan was damn near perfect. A grin curled his lips. And he’d have a lot of fun executing it, too.

“Thanks, Del. I needed that.” She slid the empty glass over to him.

He began to make her another, and when she protested he said, “On the house.”

Cool green eyes narrowed. “I have to get home.”

“We both know you walked, so there’s no risk of you being too tipsy to drive.” Cassie lived three blocks over. She always walked. “Besides I want to talk to you about something.” He passed over her freshly made drink.

She took a sip, eyeing him warily. “I’m not calling you a god since I didn’t order this.”

“Fair enough.”

Taking another sip, she closed her eyes, a soft moan escaping her full, pink lips. Damn if it didn’t hit him low in his gut. One slim finger reached out to push back a dark brown curl that had fallen from her upswept hairstyle. He loved her hair, wild and gorgeous. Like the woman herself. The kind of hair a man dreamt about wrapping his fingers around in the throes of passion. The woman was sexy as all get out, even when berating his ass. Maybe that’s why this idea appealed to him. They could have so much fun with it.

“Okay, talk,” she said.

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