Page 20 of Trying Sophie

Chapter Seven

Sophie

When my grandmaand I went downstairs to open the pub, I was surprised to see an unfamiliar man setting up the room.

“I assume you know who that strange man is? I whispered, pointing his direction.

“Strange man?” she whispered back, tracking my finger with her eyes. “Oh, he’s not a strange man, dear. That’s Cian; he works here sometimes.”

“Since when?” I asked, still whispering.

In the week I’d been here, the only other employee I’d met was a waitress named Siobhan.

“Since …” she paused, mentally calculating how long the mysterious Cian had been in her employ. “Well, for about a year now, off and on. He doesn’t have a regular schedule though which is why you haven’t met.”

“Okaaaay,” I said, pushing my frustration away.

In an effort to get a grip on their bleeding finances, I’d had several conversations with my grandparents about the pub’s expenditures. I assumed they’d shared all pertinent information, including the employee payroll. At no point had they mentioned this extra head.

“How come you didn’t mention him sooner?”

“Why would I have?” She looked at me with confusion.

“Grandma—” I took a deep breath “—if I’m going to help you and grandpa figure out your finances and how to turn a bigger profit, I really need to know everything. Another employee is a pretty big thing to have forgotten.”

She waved me off like I was speaking nonsense and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something I might regret.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. We don’t actually pay Cian. He works for tips, and he makes excellent tips,” she explained, surprising me when she cast her gaze over him approvingly and waggled her eyebrows.

Since working my own unpaid shifts, I’d learned Fitzgerald’s did a healthy business with females in the over-30, under-90 demographic. While their tips hadn’t been great for me, I could understand how Cian might fare differently. Imagine a much taller and broader Poldark dropped down in the middle of Ballycurra, dressed in modern clothing that perfectly molded to his athletic body, and you had a pretty good picture of the man. Basically, he was some very nice eye candy.

“Wait a minute,” I gasped, giving him another once over and putting two and two together. “That’s Cian Kelly, your ‘dark-haired devil?’”

I winced when his head shot up. Shit, he’d heard me even from all the way over there.

“Morning Maureen,” Cian chuckled, thankfully going about his business.

“Good morning Cian,” she responded sweetly. “I’d like you to meet someone very special.”

Cian slid a chair under the table and straightened, coming to an abrupt halt when he spied me standing next to my grandma, his eyes flashing with curiosity.

“This must be Sophie,” he said, walking toward us with a cocky swagger.

“Indeed, I am,” I confirmed with a nod. “And you, I’m to understand, are Cian Kelly, my old classmate and sometime torturer.”

Even though I’d said it with a smile so he’d know I wasn’t picking a fight, he flinched.

Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, he said sheepishly, “Yeah, that’d be me.”

“Oh, Sophie, you can’t still be mad about that,” my grandma interjected, waving her hand. “You were all a bunch of kids who didn’t know any better.”

“Grandma …” I warned.

We’d been over this when Declan had dropped me off. Yes, I was willing to forgive him—and by extension all his cronies—but that didn’t mean I was going to pretend like it had never happened or their teasing had been nothing more than harmless fun.

She scoffed and walked through the swinging door to the kitchen, leaving me alone with Cian.

“Sorry about that,” I offered, uncomfortable he’d witnessed the short, awkward exchange.

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