“I won’t allow you to do that,” Ford said firmly. “She doesn’t deserve to be used. That’s not you either, Theo.”
“I agree,” said Theo, relieved. Jesus. Since when did town politics get so cutthroat? “Grant’s a police officer,” Theo said, referring to their middle brother. “How much better connected can we get?”
“Grant’s a detective in Boston. He doesn’t have any connections here. Not like her,” Neal jerked his head toward Amber, who let out a peal of laughter just then. She was talking to the captain of the Northfield Fire Department and a group of veteran firefighters. Theo had been in his fair share of town hall meetings with the captain. Cap was an influential man to have in his corner. Cap appeared to be fully in Amber’s. She leaned up and kissed his cheek.
“Most of these guys have some kind of connection to her entire family,” Neal observed, practically rubbing his hands together in glee. “Look at her. She’s even got Cap eating out of her hands.”
Ford shrugged. “Amber’s a good person who could use a steady job with benefits. She’s a little wild, but she’s got great energy. Hiring her might get that stick out of your ass.” He grinned.
Theo tapped his fingers impatiently on the table. “I can’t work with someone like that. Can you imagine her in an office setting?”
“Hiring her is a terrible idea.” Neal scowled. “She’s clearly not office material.”
Theo found Amber again in the crowded bar with another group of people. She radiated vibrant energy that drew people to her just to be near all that light.
Theo glanced at Ford. “You don’t think this is a good idea, right?”
“Actually, I do,” Ford said, smiling. “Amber’s smart, good with people, and she’s bound to have some fresh ideas. You could use someone like her managing your life. I’d consider it a personal favor if you hired her. I think she’d be good for you.”
“What if you just talk to her and see if she’s even interested?” Charlotte, ever the voice of reason, suggested. “You don’t have to decide now. Besides, she might say no, anyway. She’s not exactly struggling in her current job.”
“One she’s not very good at,” Theo said, glancing irritably at the empty table. “I’ll go get our drinks.”
Chapter Two
“It’s a hot one tonight,”Captain Peter Buttaglia, otherwise known simply as Cap by everyone in Northfield, said, looking around at the packed bar. Amber could almost see him counting heads for the fire code.
“I don’t mind. It makes people thirsty, which makes me more money.” Amber deftly slid a stack of ones off the bar.
“Everything okay, honey?” Cap asked. He studied her with sharp blue eyes. She let her smile spread from merely sexy into dazzling territory. “That doesn’t work on me, Miss,” Cap growled.
Amber toned it down to a softer, more genuine smile.
“You’ve been working too much lately,” he said gruffly.
“Me, work too hard? Never. Everything is perfect, Cap.” Aunt Sophia and Cap had dated for a few years now. He was a regular, welcome fixture at their Sunday family dinners with his keen observations about everything from local politics to what grew best in his gardens.
Cap snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Sometimes he could see a little too much.
Amber pointed her finger at his beer. “That’syour last one for the night or I’m going to call Aunt Sophia to come and get you on her way home from Bingo.”
Captain studied her shrewdly before allowing himself to be distracted. Faux horror filled his face at his girlfriend’s name. “Let a guy live a little, would ya?” Aunt Sophia inspired that look from many people with her bossy ways, but Amber knew the captain was smitten all the same.
“See you at Sunday dinner.” She reached up to kiss his grizzled cheek.
“Amber, phone’s for you,” Miguel, her line cook and general pain in the ass, bellowed through the pass-through window. The slam of a stainless steel prep bowl let her know what he thought about phone calls during the middle of a Friday rush hour.
“Tell them I’m working,” Amber bellowed right back.
“You think I didn’t tell them that?” More pots and pans banged. With Killian gone for the night now, Amber was supposed to take any important calls. She headed toward the kitchen.
“Northfield Pub,” she said impatiently into the phone.
“Is this Amber Hart? This is Dana with Agency Debt Collections.” The perky voice threw her for a second.
Shit. Shit. Shit. “Ye—No.She doesn’t work here,” Amber blurted, and banged the phone back on the wall.
