Page 56 of After Indigo Irish Nights
“Maybe we shouldn’t say,” Jamie whispered, shielding the sheet from view.
Declan grabbed the paper from his hands and read the results—Kathleen had swept the contest and won outright. His brother hadn’t earned a single point. He stopped his brows from shooting into his hairline, aware people were watching.
“Don’t give the scores, for God’s sake,” he whispered back. “Just say the Yank won.”
“It’s a right surprise, isn’t it?” Cormac asked in a harsh voice. “Maybe it’s the woman’s touch. Delicate hands and all.”
“I don’t care what the reason is.” Declan put on his game face. “Just announce the winner. I’ll burn the scores later.”
“Good idea,” Jamie said, shoving the individual judges’ sheets at him.
He jammed them into the pockets of his leather jacket. Imagine. His brother had just taken over the pub, and he’d been handily beaten—by an American, no less. Declan’s Yank. He hoped Brady wouldn’t take it to heart, but he knew him well enough that he might. He had a soft heart, his brother. “Get on with it, Cormac.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you please,” Cormac said in a booming voice before removing his betting book and slapping it against his thigh. “The results are in, and fine results they are, depending on who you bet on. Please join me in congratulating the winner. Kathleen O’Connor!”
Ellie let out a wild hoot, punctuated by a yawp from Kathleen herself. They high-fived, grinning from ear to ear. Declan watched as the shock rolled over Brady’s face before he stuck a smile on it. He grabbed Kathleen in a hug, congratulating her.
“He’s a good man, your brother,” Jamie said beside him.
He was at that. He sought out his father’s face and saw the same forced smile he always plastered on after a surprise, or at a funeral.
People clustered around Cormac to settle up from the betting. Declan went behind the bar and over to his brother, whom he grabbed in a half hug.
“If you had to lose, better it be to a beautiful woman and your intended’s best friend,” Declan said, shaking his brother to help him past the shock.
“You’re right, I’m sure,” Brady said with a sigh. “Kathleen, darling, I’m throwing out my beer. Do you mind pullingmeone from your own hands? I’d like to see what I’ve been missing.”
His brother could teach anyone how to lose gracefully. Only, Declan didn’t plan to lose.
Everyone who heard the request laughed, and Kathleen hugged Brady again before pulling him the drink he’d requested. While his brother drank, Declan grabbed Kathleen’s hand and pulled her from behind the bar.
“I believe you’ve done enough work for tonight,” he said, aware that plenty of people were watching. “Take your congratulations, and then come and sit with me.”
Eoghan appeared, his face flush with excitement. “Some are saying it’s a sad day for the village, with our own pub owner being beaten by a Yank. I say it only shows how much magic the Yanks are bringing in with them. Come, dear Kathleen. I have some money to spend. I bet on you, you see.”
He gave a devilish wink as he grabbed her other hand. She glanced between the two of them. Age would always win out, to Declan’s mind.
“Go on,” Declan said with a smile. “He’ll keep you in good company.”
She squeezed his hand before releasing it. “Keep my chair warm.”
He nodded and watched as she went off, Linc Buchanan grabbing her in a hug and saying something to make her laugh in that gusty way of hers.
“Cormac!” Seamus called to the bookie as he sidled up to Declan with a glass of whiskey. “Come tell Declan what magic you conjured for his second fight. It’ll be a few weeks after the first, on the second Friday in June. Cormac here brought out all the stops when he heard how important this fight was to the village and the future of the arts center. Confidentially, of course. It’s going to bring people in from far and wide, let me tell you.”
Cormac’s face was red, likely from the heat in the pub due to the crush of people who’d surrounded him, asking for their bets to be settled. He’d managed it with impressive speed, but then again, he had nearly a lifetime of practice.
“Oh, it’ll be a grand fight, Declan McGrath. You are going to fall to your knees and weep when you hear the competitor. I’d put out word in the third-level midweight boxing circles you were back and ready to fight, and do you know who called me out of the blue?”
He could hear his heart beat in his ears. “That big, eh? Who reached out?”
The man’s wrinkled face broke out into a wide grin, showcasing his gold tooth. “It’s a man you’ve faced before, time and time again. Some would even call him your nemesis.”
His nerves prickled. There was only one man he would call by that name—the very man who’d ruined his life.
Declan made himself utter the vile name. “Jimmy Slavin.”
“Of course it is!” Cormac said. “His manager said he was thrilled to hear you were back to fighting. We agreed there was no one better matched against you, the same way it’s been since you were boys, and even though you’ve been out of the circuit for years, your trainers thought you could hold your own against him, especially with the rumors surrounding him. He never made it out of the third-level because of them.”
