Page 2 of Trouble Walked In

“Nothing! I swear it. The only reason I came here was because I know that my father is afraid of you guys! He owns the whole goddamned town otherwise.”

“Look, Moira. Not that you haven't endeared yourself to me,” he said sarcastically, “but I'm not looking to get between you and your daddy. Get the hell out of my bar and go home.”

“You don't understand,” she said, her lip quivering.

“Oh Christ. Don't turn on the tears, cupcake. I don't give a damn what the issue is. I want you out of my bar. I won't have you jeopardizing the safety of my people so you can throw a tantrum.”

Her heart dropped. “Could you… Could you let go of my hair, please?”

He immediately released it, as if he'd forgotten he'd grabbed it, but he stayed crouched exactly where he was. “Did you drive here?”

“Took a cab, but please. Don't make me leave. I came home today and he told me that I was getting married. To someone I don't even know! Do you realize how fucked up that is? When I refused, he kicked me out. He cut me off. I don't have anywhere to go. No one else in this town will help me. I won some money, but not enough for a place to stay.”

“Sorry for your troubles, but they ain't mine. You need to go. Now.”

Resigned, she rose, and played the last card in her arsenal. “I figured if anyone would be man enough to stand up to my asshole of a father, it would be a shifter. I'll go, though. I apologize for making a scene.”

When she reached the door of the office, she began to open in and then felt a sense of triumph when his hand slammed up against it.

“Man enough? I assure you that I'm more than man enough for anything you might have in mind, cupcake. I just don't feel like you've given me a very compelling reason at this point. He wants you to marry some jerk? Tell him no. He won't pay for school? Get a job.”

She spun around to face him, her cheeks flaming. Embarrassed, she finally admitted, “I've got forty-three dollars and eleven cents. No place to live. No car. No job. My father owns the entire town. No one else is willing to help me. The job market isn't looking too good.”

“So, what? You thought you'd come in here and con some of my patrons?”

“That was the plan,” she said, feeling another overwhelming wave of shame wash over her.

“Sarge is a hard ass. You really picked the wrong target, ya know.”

“Well, he hit on me the second I walked in the door, so—”

Ronan snorted derisively, then said, “He's more the type to fuck them in the ladies room. If you were thinkin' you'd have a bed to sleep in tonight, you thought wrong. Especially after you took his money.”

She shrank back against the door in horror and said, “Not my type! And if you would have let me finish, I was saying that he was a complete pig. The way I see it, he deserved what he got.”

“He isn't the most genteel,” Ronan admitted, smirking. “Still, I can't have you making a fuss in my bar or conning my patrons. Bad for business.”

“The opportunity just presented itself and I took it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about your face. I've just been bullied my whole damned life and I'm tired of it.” She sniffed and then wiped a stray tear off her cheek. “Just let me go. I gotta find some place to stay tonight.”

Moira's heart pounded when he didn't immediately release his hold on the door.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Can you wait tables?”

“Yes,” she said, with something perilously close to hope in her voice.

“I've got a couch you can sleep on.” At her hesitant look, he added, “I won't pretend like the idea doesn't appeal to me because something tells me you'd be a wild one in bed, but there aren't any strings, Moira.”

She loved the way that her name tripped off his tongue. That slow drawl of his was a killer. Even still, she was suspicious. “Not that I don't appreciate your kindness, but...why?”

“I've been in your shoes,” he admitted. “I don't much like bullies.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes filling again. “Do you want me to come out and help right now or—”

“Let's let things settle down for the night. You can start tomorrow. Got any clothes other than what you've got on? I don't wager you could fit much in that purse,” he said, eyeing her small clutch.

For the first time since she'd come in the office, she smiled. “Yeah. I stashed my duffel bag in the bushes out back. I didn't exactly wanna bring all my worldly belongings into a bar.”

“Well, let's go get 'em,” he said impatiently. “After that you can hang out back here until closing. Once everyone's out of here, we'll head to my place.”

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