Page 78 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“What do you mean?”

“You fix reputations, right?” Romeo’s head quirked to the side as if he were genuinely interested in what I had to say.

I savored my last bite and set my fork in the bowl, taking a moment to try to figure out if he had an angle with his line of questioning. “I specialize in crisis management for public figures, mostly. That can involve salvaging reputations or creating new personas for the public eye.”

“I’m not in the tabloids anymore,” he pointed out. “Or on major news networks.”

“Right.” I didn’t add that the sudden lack of interest in his extracurricular activities had more to do with the focus on his family tragedy than true reputation repair.

Romeo leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table and leaning his chin on his palm. “You seem competent.”

“Thank you?” I wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment. “I think.”

“No, it’s good.” There was that look again, like he was hyper-focused on my facial expressions. It was starting to weird me out. “But now that you’ve fixed me, what will you do? Stay in Chicago? Return to New York?”

“I think I’ve had enough of New York for now.” Plus, my former boss could make it damn near impossible for me to get a job at another agency. I’d signed a non-compete so that I couldn’t go to work for their competitor for at least a year. “I might look to join a team in Chicago, but I could work on my own with the right connections.”

“The O’Connors.”

I nodded. “Yes. Seamus has made it clear that the family will help me however I need it. I might even work for them if they can use me.”

“I’m shocked they haven’t locked you down to help with Sean,” Romeo said flatly.

I laughed at that, thinking about the middle O’Connor’s antics. “He’s a flirt, but he’s careful about how far he takes it. I think people expect the owner of a pub to be a little rough around the edges.”

“Does he flirt with you?” Romeo asked, his face turning serious and his muscles tense. Was he jealous?

“He flirts with everybody,” I replied with a flippant hand wave. “I’m no more or less special than any other girl he’s met.”

“You practically grew up together.” Romeo shoved his chair back, and I flinched at the sudden movement, drawn to how his biceps bulged against the sleeves of his t-shirt as he picked up the heavy chair and pushed it into place.

I scrambled to do the same, but not as gracefully. “I’ve known the O’Connors my entire life since my father worked for them. That makes Sean much more like a brother than anything else. An annoying older brother.”

Romeo took his bowl to the sink, muttering under his breath. It sounded like he’d said Sean didn’t seem to see me as a little sister. Ridiculous. Sloane’s brother had never taken things further than harmless flirting, and I wasn’t interested in anything more.

He took my bowl from me and started in on the dishes. “Go on. You did the cooking. I’ve got this.”

I wasn’t about to protest him doing the dirty work, so I stroked my hand down his arm. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

A light rain fell outside, ending my thoughts about reading on one of the chairs on the back porch. Instead, I wandered to the game room and racked the balls on the pool table. I’d play myself and work on technique for a couple of hours. I pulled out my phone, checking to see if I’d gotten any calls or texts. Reception was spotty at best, so I’d mostly settled for chatting with Sloane online in the evenings since there was internet. Though that was unreliable, too.

I chalked my cue and leaned over the table, taking position and lining up my first shot to pocket two balls. I snapped the stick forward precisely, sinking solids on the corner and side and nodding at my accomplishment. Time passed quickly as I tested out tried-and-true shots and some newer tricks I’d been working on. By the time we got back to Chicago, I’d be able to use some of the new stuff at the pub.

I’d leaned over the table again when a weight pressed against my back. “What are you doing, Romeo?”

“I figured I could give you a few pointers,” he murmured, nipping at my ear and making me shiver at the slight sting.

I giggled at the absurdity of his suggestive double entendre. “You think you can show me a thing or two?”

“Of course.” Romeo’s hand slid around my waist, stroking under my arm and cupping my breast.

“Fine.” I pulled away and took another cue from the wall, thrusting it into his hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He looked surprised for a moment, but then his grin turned mischievous. “You’re on.”

I racked the balls again and looked for the decorative medallion that had no doubt been used to determine the first player in many past games. “Heads or tails?”

Romeo winked at me. “Tails.”

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