Page 7 of Vengeful Secret

“Another.”

She quickly pours another double and slides it across the bar to me, but I just slowly slip this one. The first one hasn’t done much to lift my spirits or lift the heavy feeling around my heart.

Declan’s probably right. Things will end up okay, but right now, it doesn’t feel like it.

I’m not ready to fill my father’s shoes, and I hope I don’t have to for much longer.

He’s on the mend, but it’ll still be a long time before he can take the reins back from me. He’s still bedridden and I don’t want to bother him with a lot of drama, and that’s all that’s been going on in our lives.

We’re trying to keep Murphy from knowing the extent of Da’s injuries, trying to keep an eye out for his spies, and I’m trying to take over without it being obvious that I’m taking over.

It’s exhausting.

What I really need is a distraction.

I look up at Nessa, who is a beautiful girl with her auburn-colored hair and big brown eyes.

“What are you up to after your shift?”

“Don’t you look at me like that, Gray Burke,” she chides, but she’s smiling. “You know I got married last year.”

I groan. “Did you? I don’t remember being invited.”

“That’s because you would have flirted with me and gotten my husband all riled up.”

I shrug, smiling. “Guilty as charged, I guess.”

Well, that’s out.

I scan around the bar, trying to findsomethingto engage with—an old friend I can hit up for conversation, a pretty girl I can buy a drink, anything. It’s not like it has to be a woman—I'll take anything at this point.

Unfortunately, I don’t see any familiar faces, and all the pretty women seem to be paired up or in groups, which usually means they don’t want a ton of male attention.

I’m not one to bother women when they’re out with their girlfriends. I’m just not that kind of guy.

As dominant as my personality may be, I’m not pushy, especially when it comes to the fairer sex.

I haven’t really been in a relationship since... well, for a long time. And I can’t even remember the last time I’ve taken a woman home. I may not be a womanizer, but I’m not a monk either.

I could just leave, just drive home instead of drinking too much and taking a car, but home will remind me of all my responsibilities, put all that pressure back on my shoulders. That’s the last thing I want.

Instead, I keep scanning the bar, and finally, my eyes land on a table in the back, full of women.

They’re all pretty... exceptionally pretty, really, even though they’re all very different-looking.

There’s a blonde, one of those platinum blondes that only comes from a bottle, and then a brunette with long, curly hair. One of them has shorter hair, an angled bob that catches my eye. The color is a deep chestnut, and there’s something familiar about the angle of her cheekbones.

When she throws back her head and laughs at something one of her friends says, my heart skips a beat. Or twelve.

I’d know those blue-gray eyes anywhere. That’s Sutton MacIntyre.

Memory washes over me like a tidal wave.

“Who’s Tess?” she’d asked, clearly flirting with me, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.

“She’s the owner’s daughter. She’s only three, but I guess the name just really stuck.”

“Is that true?” She swayed toward me, putting her hands on my chest.

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