Sean

 “My brother’s wedding is at the end of
the month. He said it’s a small thing without groomsmen, so you don’t need to
worry about matching a dress to my tie or anything. I can get you the times
once Jack bloody gets them to me and hopefully you don’t have a teacher’s
conference or something,” I said, smiling casually. I figured it was a given
she’d go as my date. No need to even ask. But this would be the first time
she’d meet my family. It was a big step, so I was trying to make it as easy as
possible.

For me, at least.

True, I didn’t actually think we
had any chemistry other than in the bedroom. And she tended to correct my
grammar when we went out on dates. But a girl was a girl, and I needed not just
a date. I needed someone to spend forever with.

Or six months, according to my da’s
will.

“I think we’re better off as
friends.”

The redhead sitting across from me
couldn’t even make eye contact as she said the words.

The girl who I’d been dating a
month now. Longer than my last few relationships put together.

I stiffened, trying to figure out
the best response.

Not
now. This couldn’t be happening.

“You can’t just decide this is
over. I’m in this, too, you know?” I asked, trying to keep my voice low so
people around us wouldn’t hear, but my fists clenched at my sides. If this were
a teammate, I’d tell him he was out of his fecking mind for doing something so
stupid.

But this was not a guy on the rugby
pitch, and I had to count my breaths, hoping I didn’t say something stupid.

Normally I wouldn’t be fighting so
hard to get a girl—and usually, I didn’t need to—but the blasted clause in my da’s
will said that each of my brothers and I had to be married within a year of his
death, or none of us would get the family business, a multi-million-dollar pub
franchise.

I never thought I actually wanted
the job. Still wasn’t sure about that one, since my rugby career was finally
picking up.

But, here’s the thing. The will
said that we all had to be married to get the company, and if I didn’t get
married, even if I didn’t want anything to do with running a business right now,
that meant my brothers didn’t get it, either.

My life was so focused on getting
to the next level in rugby that I’ve never even thought about marriage.
Especially not at twenty-three.

But now, when I thought maybe I
could like this girl enough to try to move forward, she has the gall to break
up with me.

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, because you’re always at
practice. Our first date, if you’d call it that, was me watching you at a game
then hanging out at your friend’s flat where you and the team talked about the
game the entire time and sipped on warm beer.”

So maybe I wasn’t the best at
romance. Who was?

I swallowed hard, leaning in closer,
putting on my most charming smile.

 “But what about the second date? All our
little texts and the flowers I sent to your classroom?” I asked.

Not that I was in love with the
girl after a few weeks of seeing her, but she was a real ace. A primary school
teacher who volunteered at a local animal shelter. The type of girl who would
make a fine wife.

So, what if there wasn’t an
electric zing? That would come eventually.

She sighed. “Flowers. Sexting. A
few quick hookups where you left right after you cleaned up? That’s not exactly
romance. Not something I see that warrants meeting families and being wedding
dates.”

What could I say that would change
her mind?

I cleared my throat, taking a long
drink of my water. “Most people would think that sounds like a grand
relationship.”

 “Sean, let’s just be friends, okay? I’m sure
the right girl is out there for you. It’s just not me,” she said quickly,
leaning in to place a quick kiss on my cheek before she grabbed her sweater and
bolted out of the café.

Just like that.

Relief washed over me.

I didn’t have to keep trying to
make time for her between my rugby schedule anymore.

A few people at the other tables
whispered amongst themselves. Like they couldn’t believe I just got dumped over
coffee.

“Shite,” I muttered, putting my
head back against the seat.

I should have been maybe been a
little more pissed off at the situation.

Summer was almost over, and I had
until April to find a wife. If things kept going like they had with the last
few girls, I’d be better off paying a rugger hugger.

No.

I couldn’t do that to Da’s legacy.

It had to be real or at least have
the potential of being real.

I held my breath, then let it out
slowly.

In for five seconds.

Out for five seconds.

It was what I did on the pitch when
I needed to ground myself.

But this time it wasn’t working,
and my brain was still a jumbled mess.

As if the universe knew I needed a
distraction, my phone buzzed in my pocket, shaking me of my own thoughts.

An alert popped up with a word game
I’d been playing the last few months against my sister-in-law’s American
friend, Leah.

Now, there was a girl who I talked
to every damn day and didn’t have to worry about dating. She made that
abundantly clear at my brother Connor’s wedding when she turned me down for a
dance, drank the last of my whiskey, then went off without saying a word.

Feck, but she was just about the
sexiest woman I’d ever seen, so if she was going to talk to me, even if it was
just a little word game, I’d let her.

Just looking at her game icon with
her spiky dark hair and heavily lined eyes, biting that pierced lip, had my once-defeated
body now coming to life. The girl knew she was hot shite, which should have
made me not even pay attention to her.

But that didn’t stop her from
accepting my request to play a game.

She was, after all, my
sister-in-law’s best mate and all the way in America. So, no harm at all in
looking at or chatting with her.

“Is that even a fecking word?” I stared
at “shequel” on the screen.

Shoving the phone back in my
pocket, I looked out the front window, trying to control the jumbled mess in my
head.

But then I caught something out of
the corner of my eye and leaned forward.

The girl across the street. I knew
her.

But why the hell would Leah, the
girl who was supposed to be playing an online game in America, be standing
outside of Murphy’s Pub?

I had to be hallucinating, yet that
didn’t stop me from slowly walking out of the café, didn’t stop my eyes
scanning from the top of her spiky pixie cut, down the colorful butterfly
tattoo on her neck, and then over the white button-down blouse and trousers
that the pub’s waitstaff wore.

Maybe it wasn’t Leah.

My heart thumped hard in my chest
at the thought.

Whoever the gorgeous woman was, she
just walked into one of my family’s pubs. I didn’t have anywhere else to go,
and it was still early on a Saturday.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts
scattered, as I waded through the crowd of patrons.

When I finally reached the
pixie-haired girl, she stood in front of an empty stool filling some rocks
glasses with dark liquids before passing them over to the group of tourists in
Hawaiian shirts behind her.

I may have only met Leah when she
was in town for Connor’s wedding, but I’d recognize that quirk of her lips and
those golden-brown eyes anywhere.

“Shequel?” I asked, sitting at the
empty stool in front of her as she turned around. I wiped my palms on my
trousers, the curse of my nerves, which still rolled through me. Even after all
this time, I couldn’t help the swirl of energy that came over me when I talked
to a pretty girl.

Sometimes it was hard to forget
that I wasn’t the chubby, Celtic punk kid anymore.

“Sean Murphy, finally you come into
my pub for a drink,” she said, flashing a smile.

That gorgeous smile that told me
she was not just a lookalike. That the real deal was in front of me, something
that me grinning from ear-to-ear.

I swallowed hard, trying to gain
some saliva, but shook my head so, hopefully, she wouldn’t notice I was a
sweaty, nervous mess.

What the feck?

 “Your pub? I seem to recall that last time I
talked to you, you had some clothing store back in Chicago. Never mentioned anything
about becoming a Murphy.”

She shook her head, biting down on
her lip, where a silver hoop dangled from her red-painted mouth, before she
spoke. “Not a Murphy. Just a bartender, for now.”

“For now?” I raised an eyebrow,
curious as to how the hell the girl got here and why no one told me. Not to
mention that the girl was also making me smile more than the bird who just
dumped me.

“Aw, I knew ya missed me, mo gra, and you’d be back,” I said, trying
to keep the mood light even though I was still on edge, trying to figure out
why the hell this girl was back in Dublin. Why now? After all this time.

“Your Irish pet names aren’t cute,”
she said with a scowl. Her darkly lined eyes may have been narrowed, but there
was a sparkle in them.

Fecking hell, was she gorgeous,
with her dark hair and eyes, and those colorful tattoos dotting her tanned
complexion. She was like the living dream I didn’t know I had.

But she’d shoot me down in an
instant. Then I might have to deal with my brother and sister-in-law giving me
shite about it forever.

Better just to try and keep it
casual.

“Ah, I think you’re cute, too,” I
said, flashing the smile that usually had girls dropping their knickers. But
this one was completely unfazed.

She rolled her eyes, but a smile
played on her lips as she shrugged, the motion squeezing her breasts together
and giving me a fantastic view.

Fecking
hell, Sean, stop staring at the woman’s tits.

“I’m not here to talk about my
problems, but I am getting the hang of this bartending thing.”

She grabbed a pint glass, setting
it under the Guinness tap. “And if you’re sitting here alone in the pub on a
Saturday night, something tells me you need the advice of a sage bartender.”

“Think I’m just going to spill all
my secrets to you just because we’ve played some online word games and you know
my drink order?” I asked as she set the pint in front of me and poured a shot
of Murphy’s whiskey, placing it next to the glass.

When she looked up at me, it was as
if the wind had been knocked out of my chest, and it took everything I had not
to gulp as a smile crossed her lips, one small eyebrow arched.

“Yes, I do.”

I took a long pull of my drink and
set it down, shaking my head. If I wasn’t already knocked on my arse by her
mere presence, that little smile had me laid out. “I’m not going to just give
you everything, right here. But if you are looking for someone to give you a
tour of Ireland, I can do that. Unless Fallon’s been showing you around?”

Her brown eyes were somehow even
brighter in the low light of the pub. Their calculating stare ran over me as if
she was trying to figure out my story from one little look. “Not seen much
around the area, aside from Fallon and Connor’s place, where I’ve been staying.
And the pub. But it’s not like this is Disney World and I need to see every
little thing at once. Not that I’ve actually been to Disney World, but if there
are some dancing mice down in Temple Bar or something, I might want to see
that.”

I raised my eyebrows, finding
myself smiling. I tried to tamp down my reaction, but it was too late, and my
mouth moved faster than my brain.

“Never been to Disney? Isn’t that
the American vacation place that everyone goes? Feck, I’ve even been there. Da
took the three of us and a nanny when we were just wee lads. Those people in
costumes scared the shite out of me, though. Pretty traumatizing for a
five-year-old when a big, furry duck comes at you, not saying a peep.”

She laughed, a sound that had me
grinning in response. Feck, it was a beautiful laugh.

“Your accent makes things ten times
funnier. I’ve gotten used to the Irish tone working here, but since it’s mostly
tourists, I don’t get enough of it.”

“My accent? You should talk about
yours. You sound like the guys in those old mobster movies.”

True, she did have an American
accent, though hers was more endearing than the ones in the movies. Watching
her smile and get along with me had me wanting to keep pushing and see how much
more I could get her talking.

She laughed even harder, tilting
her head back as her whole body vibrated. My own face quirked into a broad
smile that almost hurt from pulling so hard. What was this girl doing to me? “You
think I sound like Al Capone or The
Godfather or something? Just because I’m from Chicago?”

“Leave the gun. Take the cannoli,”
I said, lowering my voice and trying to mimic that Chicago accent.

She laughed so hard that she
covered her mouth, her nose wrinkling. Then she shook her head. Fecking hell,
she was cute.

“Is that really what I sound like
to you?”

“Do I sound like a leprechaun to
you?” I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her smartass remark, leaning in with
anticipation that had me licking my lips, almost as excited for her response as
I was for the next play in a game.

“No. I was thinking more like maybe
an Irish mobster. Oh, or a fortune teller. You’d make a lovely gypsy, beard and
all,” she said playfully, as if we were best mates who said these things all
the time. Her red-painted nails curled in the edge of my beard before giving
the coarse hairs a little squeeze.

Fecking hell, my cock practically
jumped out of my trousers, and I sat up straighter telling myself to calm down.
We were in a public pub.

“Girls do fancy a beard,” I murmured,
leaning in so close I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes.

So. Fecking. Beautiful.

“Not all girls. Which makes me
wonder if you’re in here to see me because you’re having women troubles,” she
said, quickly pulling her hand away as if she just realized what she was doing.

I leaned back, trying to ignore the
magnetic tug that kept drawing me closer to her, and instead picked up my drink
so I’d have something to do with my hands.

“I do not have woman problems,
thank you very much,” I replied, quickly taking a big gulp of my pint. Then I chased
it with the whiskey and ignored the guilt riddling deep within me.

If she only knew.

“You see the secret to being a
bartender is being perceptive to when someone has a tell. And that lack of eye
contact tells me I’m right. Well and, you know, the whole marriage-will clause
thing,” she said flippantly, but I almost spit out my drink, the liquid lodging
in my throat as I faced her full on.

“How do you…?” I blurted, fumbling
for the right words.

“Please. Fallon is my best friend.
I tell her I caught my on-again-off-again boyfriend in bed with my former
business partner, and she gave me the chance to come here and work in the pub. We
talk about everything. Like Connor and Jack having found wives, and you still
having the lack of one.”

I swallowed hard, at a loss for
words as every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Rubbing the exact
spot, I tried to appear casual, but inside my stomach soured, like it did every
time the fecking clause was brought up.

Not that the clause was a big
secret. The board knew about it, and anyone with public records could probably
find the will, but I thought Connor might have shut his trap about it when it
came to his wife.

I finished the last of my beer and let
out a deep breath. The tension in my shoulders drifted away.

Well, I supposed now that it was
out there, no use hiding it.

“You try finding a wife when you’re
surrounded by rugby players, rugger huggers, or old men in the boardroom. Any
girl I fancy, I don’t seem to have the time for. As evidenced by the bird who
just broke up with me over coffee,” I muttered the last part, watching as Leah
quickly filled my pint glass, not a jot of pity or smugness on her face.

“That’s what the internet is for,
isn’t it?”

“You and I both know a lot of those
sites are just for hookups. Which is all well and good, if I wasn’t looking for
more.” I took another gulp of my pint and let the liquid haze that came from
drinking this early in the day take over.

She sighed. “What you’re saying
sounds like every girl’s dream. Have you ever just approached one of those
rugger huggers, as you call them, and said ‘hey I need a wife for the business,
wanna head to the chapel?’”

I laughed, shaking my head before
taking another pull of my beer. If we were going to have this conversation, it
would probably require a few more drinks. “I don’t want just some random rugger
hugger.”

“Then it sounds like you need a
matchmaker. Or maybe a Cyrano who can feed you lines.”

Realization dawned on me. It was as
if a lightbulb went off in my head. I sat up straighter, and I slapped my hand
on the bar. “You should be that person.”

She put her hands up, her eyes
widening as her entire body shook. “Whoa, buddy, I’m not marrying you. No
offense, but you’re not my type.”

“Well, thanks for that vote of
confidence,” I grumbled, but I wasn’t knocked down yet.

Now that this idea was in my head,
there was no getting it out. My
eyes lit up at the very thought of my marriage worries coming to an end.
Even if I couldn’t have the girl in front of me, if she could find someone like
her…

Leah smiled, leaning on the bar top,
her fingers tapping at the screen of the phone that lay beside my pint, the
little clicking sound driving me mad.

Fecking hell, it was like the woman
knew she could get me wound up. But I had to keep my eyes locked on hers,
letting her know I was dead serious.

“But I can help you find a girl. Just
give me your phone, and we’ll do some swiping.”

“Oh, no, I need more than that.” I
tapped my fingers against my whiskers, thinking of my next move. “If you’re
working here and staying at Fallon’s, something tells me you could use more,
too.”

She pulled back, wincing as if my
words just slapped her. “I don’t like where this is going.”

A new thrill shot through me as I
plopped my glass down, a wave of beer spilling over onto my hand, but I didn’t
care. This was it. My moment. “No, this is perfect.”

“What is?”

“You become my assistant. Like a
personal assistant. I need someone to help keep me in check with everything—Murphy’s
Pub and rugby, plus finding a wife.”

She shook her head slightly. “I
don’t know…”

“It would include the flat Fallon
used to rent next door. Since Jack and Connor both have virtual assistants,
it’s been empty.” I smiled, knowing exactly the thing that might get her to say
yes.

But still, I held my breath,
waiting for her response.

In for five seconds.

Out for five seconds.

Her eyes lit up, but she quickly
looked down as if hoping that I didn’t notice her excitement. “That might be an
option. We’d have to talk salary, and I’d have to crunch some numbers first. Plus,
I can’t just leave the pub without notice.”

 “Sounds like you aren’t saying no.”

“I’m not.”

I grinned, my heart beating fast as
elation took over, and I wanted to reach across the bar and hug the bird. Instead,
I slid my fingers on the wood grain of the bar and took the pint glass back in
my other hand. “Then I’ll have Fallon give you a tour of the flat tomorrow and
you can start work for me on Monday?”

“I’m not that easy, as you should
know after your many attempts to get in my panties last time you saw me.” She
smirked.

I shook my head, keeping my face
neutral so she’d know this wasn’t about getting in her knickers. “Ah, but now
I’m not trying any of that, mo gra. I
want you by my side as my assistant. The person who can finally help me get my
shite together. It’s brilliant.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How do you
figure?”

I leaned back, crossing my arms
over my chest, noticing her brief glance toward where my shirt pulled against
my biceps. Normally I’d take that as an opportunity to flex, make a move on the
bird, but things were different with Leah.

No, things would have to be
different with every girl, if I wanted a wife. If I wanted the company to stay
with the Murphys.

“You know my brothers, or what
Fallon has told you of them, at least, and you’re female. You also ran a
successful business back in America, aside from the shitey business partner
you’ve been talking about, so you know what you’re doing not just in the woman
department, but the Murphy-managing part as well,” I rambled, hoping anything I
said made sense.

Truth be told, I was having trouble
voicing much of anything.

My head and my heart had been at
odds since the will was read.

 “I’ll have to think about it,” she said
quickly, moving down the bar to take another order.

I wasn’t used to this many nos or attempts
to avoid the question, and it was fecking maddening.

“I’m going to message you my number
and the address to the flat, so you have both. In case you decide to accept,” I
called, which got us a few glances from the patrons.

She patted the bar top, saying
something to the people she was helping, then quickly moved back to me, her
eyes slightly narrowed as she leaned in.

We may have been in a dark pub, but
the woman still smelled like fresh laundry and a hint of some floral perfume.
If I weren’t afraid of what would happen to my heart and trousers, I might have
complimented her perfume. Instead, I just smiled.

“Think that’ll work for you, or you
just want to accept my offer now?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.

Breathe in for five seconds.

“If I say yes and get you another
pint, will you promise to try not to be a shite the rest of the night?”

“Yes.”

She grabbed a pint glass, filling
it to the brim before setting it in front of me. “You get me something in
writing, emailed to Leah Harlowe at Umail, and I’ll look over it to see if we
can come to an agreement.”

I smiled, every tension in me now
exploding as relief washed over me, and I held up my glass. “I’ll have it to
you after this pint.”

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