“I don’t own a crown,” Laura said. “Didn’t even have one when I was a kid. I wanted to be a fireman,” she said. “No princesses in my fantasies.”
Dallas pressed a kiss on her upturned face. “Good to know, sweetheart.”
“You’re thinking about Drummond sex,” Patrick said. “Don’t do that in front of me.”
Laura smiled—sugar-sweet—at his brother. “Noted, but if you visit us at home, all sexy bets are void.”
Two weeks later
“Two steak pies, two fish and chips and one Thai chicken salad,” the head cook called.
Laura shouted the order back and started plating the requested meals. She’d discovered she loved cooking simple, tasty meals with none of the prissy sauces her mother insisted their housekeeper produce at home. Fresh and local ingredients, cooked simply were popular atO’Grady’s.
Not even her tired muscles or her tender backside, courtesy of Dallas, took away from her pleasure in the honest labor. And the paycheck each week made her smile. She insisted on contributing to the household expenses and combined with her temp office jobs, she still managed to save a portion of her wages. The sense of satisfaction far outweighed the loss of her allowance from her family.
“Four soup, three garlic bread,” the cook shouted.
Laura reached for soup bowls and ladled out chicken and vegetable soup.
“You can go for a half hour break once you’re done with those,” the cook said. “Dallas asked if you’d grab him something to eat. He’s nipping out to see if the club down the road can spare some change.”
“Soup up.” Laura grabbed garlic bread from the warmer. “Bread up too.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she decided on Thai chicken salad for their dinner and plated the meals. She whipped off her apron and stowed it where no one else would steal it. A lesson learned early in her new job. A phantom apron thief haunted this kitchen.
The pub was busy, but she commandeered the small table near the bar, one reserved for staff, and started her dinner. Patrick plonked a beer and a glass of water on the table, dashing off before she could thank him.
Ten minutes passed and another ten. She finished her dinner, went to the bar and waited for Patrick to catch her wave.
“Dallas isn’t back.”
“But he went ages ago,” Patrick said. “I assumed he was eating his dinner. He knew we were busy. I doubt he’d dally at the club.” Patrick handed over three beers and took the money. “Jump behind the bar and cover for me. I’ll go and find him.”
“But Dallas doesn’t—”
“This is an emergency,” Patrick snapped.
Laura nodded and took her first official order. She fumbled at first, but her confidence grew and her nerves subsided. She served beers, glasses of wine and mixed drinks, her gaze straying to the door as her stint behind the bar grew to half an hour.
Patrick burst through the door, blood splattered across his face.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Laura’s hands fisted in his shirt as she prepared to shake truth from him.
“Someone mugged him on the way back from the club. I waited for the ambulance to arrive before I came for you.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“He’s breathing, but he wasn’t conscious when I left.”
“Wait, what about the bar?”
“Gloria is on her way, and she’ll take over as soon as she gets here. I’ll sort out the rest later tonight.”
Once Gloria arrived, Laura grabbed her phone and wallet plus a jacket before following Patrick from the pub. He hailed a cab, and fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the hospital. It was another long fifteen minutes before they were allowed to see Dallas.
A sob escaped Laura when she caught her first glimpse. His features were swollen, angry marks that would probably bruise already forming on his left cheek and along his jaw line. A neat line of stitches marred his forehead above his left eyebrow. His top lip was thicker than normal and several cuts and nicks decorated his jaw and cheeks. One arm was covered in heavy bandages. His face was pale, and lying in the hospital bed, he seemed lessDallasthan usual. Patrick slipped an arm around her shoulders in silent comfort.
Dallas’s eyes fluttered open when she sobbed again, unable to halt the slide of tears down her cheeks.
“Sweetheart.” His speech was hard to decipher because of his puffy lip.
