Page 8 of Broken Hero
“No problem. So you got roped into cleaning duty too?” His voice is as gravelly as I remember – bet it’s even nicer first thing in the morning.
“Yeah, it looks like Robyn and Jack are too busy to clean up.” I glance over them and roll my eyes.
He laughs. Wow, I made him laugh. And what a sight it is to behold. He has perfect teeth - of course he does. Does this man have any flaws? He has his hair in that man bun again - and it suits him. His beard is around the same length as it was two years ago, not so much that you think he's Santa but more than stubble, a full beard. Why does that turn me on so much? I don't even go for men with beards. It makes me think of primitive man, protecting woman, fighting animals with club to feed woman - yeah, getting carried away here...
“Yeah, way too busy. Many hands and all that - I’ll give you a hand.”
“Thanks.” I smile and pick the tray up. I point over to one side of the garden, “Shall we start over there? There are tonnes of glasses.”
He looks over at me. “Hmmm, I seem to remember that's where you and your friends were for most of the night.”
I chuckle. “We can drink, that's for sure.”
We start to collect the glasses, loading them up on the tray. Declan grabs a bin bag and starts loading it up with empty beer bottles.
“Have you had a good night?” I ask
He nods. “Yeah, it’s good to see my little brother happy. Never thought I’d see the day that a woman would calm him down.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s good to see them so happy. Robyn is so good for him.”
“Bet he’s been a nightmare to work with over the years.”
“I've had to fire off a couple of girls for him. Contrary to what everyone thinks though - I never went there, thankfully.”
Why did I tell him that?
He raises his eyebrows. “So you've had comments like that?”
I laugh. “You don’t remember, do you?”
He frowns. “Remember what?”
“I had comments like that from you...the last time we spoke.” He doesn't remember - now’s the time to tell him.
“Me? What are you talking about? I’ve hardly spoken to you before.”
“We had a conversation a couple of years ago - you were out of it though – I can't say I'm surprised you don't remember.”
“I made comments about you and Jack? What the hell? That doesn't sound like something I would do.”
“I . . . I think you were dealing with a few issues that night.
“When was it?”
“Around two years ago, you were in a bar at Gadbury. My friends and I went out of town for the night - you were there at the bar. Let's just say you’d had enough to drink. I said hello, and you made some comment about how you don't do sloppy seconds - but I wasn't chatting you up, I swear.” I add hastily.
“Christ, I'm so sorry. That . . . it was a bad night for me.”
“Oh, it gets worse.” I give a little laugh, “The bartender saw me talking to you, figured I knew you, so, at the end of the night, when he couldn't get you to go home, he asked me to help.”
I look over to him – his mouth falls open and his eyes are wide.
“Do you remember?”
He shakes his head, so I carry on. “I let you share our cab, which you paid for by the way, thank you very much, and I helped you in your house. You were . . . well, you were upset. I wrote you a note and left you a glass of water then left.”
“That...that was you?” he asks
