Page 15 of Trouble Walked In

Moira let out a shuddering sigh and squeezed his hand gently. “Thank you,” she said as she walked back toward the bar.

Ronan watched the smile come back to her face in increments over the next few minutes. By the time Ty came back, she seemed almost normal again. He handed the bar back over to Ty and then waited until he caught Moira's eye. He gestured that she needed to take her dinner break.

Rather than wait for her, he went back into his office and tried to focus on paperwork again. It didn't take long before she was knocking gently on the doorframe. The apprehensive look on her face nearly broke his heart.

“Hey. How's your arm?”

“Better. A little red still. Asshole,” she grumbled. “I'm so sorry about that. I don't know how he found me, Ronan. I'll try to keep my drama out of the bar. I—”

He held up a hand as he stood. Circling around the desk, he pulled her into his arms and said, “Shh. Stop, stop. I don't think he'll be coming back, sweetheart. It's not your fault.”

Moira leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. For a moment, she leaned on him, seemingly content to be held. He took advantage of that, bringing her over to the small couch and sitting her in his lap.

“I should let you get back to work,” she protested weakly.

“Let me hold you for a minute, then you can go,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Even as she settled back against him, he realized that he was in way over his head. In the short time that he'd known her, she'd managed to work her way past his defenses. With every passing moment they spent together, he was more and more certain that she was his mate. He was also equally certain there was no way things could ever really work for them.

Chapter Ten

By the time she left Ronan's office, she felt a lot better. She'd been worried when Lyle, her father's lackey, had come into the bar trying to stir up trouble. The last thing she wanted to do was cause problems for Ronan. Technically, the bar was more than a few miles outside the city limits, so at least that wouldn't make him an easy target for her father. Moira had no doubt that this was far from over, though.

As the evening wore on, she moved from table to table on autopilot. She caught more than one look of sympathy. God knew it was a small town, so she figured just about everyone knew she'd had a falling out with her father. Ronan was the only person who knew the particulars, so she supposed the added mystery only made it more interesting.

When she saw the pitying look in Sarge's eyes, she said, “Jesus. Not you too. I conned you the other night and now you're feeling sorry for me?”

He merely shrugged and grumbled, “You won it fair and square. You were right. I wouldn't have hesitated to take your money, sugar. Much as it stung getting my ass kicked by a girl. Where'd you learn to play like that?”

“My dad taught me when I was little,” she said a bit sadly. Her father hadn't always been this power hungry. There had been a time when he'd been just like any other ordinary man. Then her mother died and everything went to hell.

“Look,” Sarge said. “I don't know what your troubles are, but as long as you keep actin' fearless, people will eventually back off.”

Moira snorted. “Says the man who's six-foot-seven. It's easy to be fearless when you can crush just about anyone.”

“And even so, which one of us walked off with my twenty bucks the other night, sugar?”

Despite his gruff words, it was clear what he was trying to say. She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Thank you for that.”

She was surprised when he reached up and patted her hand awkwardly. As he released her, she pulled away and asked, “Another beer?”

“Yeah.”

“Moira,” she heard Ronan's voice call out across the crowded bar.

She watched as Sarge looked up at the bar. His eyes widened a bit and he said, “Well shit, girl. Get on outta here before I need to find a new place to drink. Ronan looks like he's gonna kick my ass.”

“Sorry. Can't have that,” she said, heading back toward the bar. “Be right back with your beer.”

She skirted through the crowd and slid under the end of the bar. “Something you needed?”

“Don't fraternize with the customers, Moira. Just take drink orders,” Ronan snapped.

What the fuck? He'd been fine with her talking to his customers before. That was part of the whole waitress thing. It was in her best interests to be both efficient and charming. Shaking her head, Moira reached into the cooler and grabbed another bottle of beer out of the back. Aggravation laced her voice when she asked, “Gee, boss. You want me to go give him his beer or would you rather?”

Without a word, he took the bottle from her, popped the lid off, and then ducked under the bar. She watched, wide-eyed, as he placed it on the table and said something to Sarge. After a few seconds, they both glanced up at the bar and then Sarge nodded.

Moira rolled her eyes and slid out from underneath the bar. Now wasn't the time to address this, but they certainly would. She didn't want him acting like a damned caveman any time she had a conversation with another guy. Christ. Sarge was old enough to be her father. He had to have at least ten years on Ronan.

---