The whole place buzzed with early arrivals, their voices rising and falling in a familiar wave.
“Gonna storm.” I stopped at the bar after removing my thick coat and hanging it on the rack by the door.
Declan looked up from behind the bar. “Storm?”
“Tonight. Big one.” I settled on the stool and eyed the crowd. Might have to close up early if it came when I expected. Might still get lucky and it would hold off until after the party.
Tom glared at me from two stools down, snorting into his beer. “Forecast says clear skies.”
“Forecast’s wrong.” I brushed sawdust from my pants and checked the windows again. A buzzy feeling settled in the back of my throat. Yep. Definitely a big one.
“Never snows on St. Patrick’s Day.” Tom shook his head. He wanted to be right more than I did, but that wouldn’t make it come true. “Bad luck for the whole year if it snows.”
I knew that. Everyone knew that. I didn’t bother arguing. People could believe what they wanted. The storm would be here, and they’d go on complaining and not listening the next time I tried to warn them.
Declan slid a beer toward me. “You staying to help?”
“Yes.” That was always the plan. I took a long pull from the mug. Finn would show up soon, same as every year. The three of us had been part of O’Sullivan’s St. Patrick’s Day party so long I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Maeve had even starting giving us free drinks since we helped change out kegs and poured drinks.
A gust of cold air blasted past me when the door opened again. I tucked my chin into my collar and focused on my drink.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and I didn’t have a prayer of ignoring that sound because it meant Bree was on her way down.
Gods damn me for being so drawn to her that I almost choked on my drink when she came into view wearing a green mini skirt, fishnet stockings, and green high heels.
It was the black shirt that really did me in. It hung off one shoulder, the “Kiss me, I’m Irish” stitched across her ample chest looking so delicious it made my mouth water.
She walked right up behind the bar and took a mug from the shelf, filling it with green beer from the special tap and handing it to Tom with a grin. “You ready for rush?”
It took several heartbeats for me to realize she was talking to me. I finished my drink and slid the mug toward Declan. “Always am.”
She smiled, and I made the mistake of watching her lips curve.
That brief but powerful urge I’d experienced when we looked over blueprints together came rushing back.
It hadn’t left me alone so much as built into this painful, driving urge that took up too much of my mind.
“I’m helping tonight.” Bree grabbed an apron from beneath the bar and tied it around her waist. The movement caused the sequins on her skirt to shimmer, and I had a ridiculous urge to ask her to take off the apron so I could see it better. “Fair warning, I haven’t worked a bar since college, so I’m rusty.”
“You’ll be fine.” Declan touched her elbow, guiding her to his other side. “Just be careful when we’re changing the kegs. Finn gets a little carried away.”
As though conjured from the impending storm, Finn burst through the door, his grin already in place.
He wore green from head to toe.
Shirt. Suspenders.
Even a ridiculous shamrock hat with a bobbing shamrock that flopped over his forehead like one of those mistletoe caps.
“Let the festivities begin!” He spread his arms wide.
Bree laughed. A group of women in the corner whistled, and I focused on ignoring the way Bree’s laugh cut straight through the noise to nestle next to my heart.
Time blurred as the party ramped up. Orders came hard and fast. Shots and pints. Maeve’s special green beer and Jamesons. Declan called out instructions when Bree asked how to make a lemon shot.
Finn charmed everyone who came near the bar.
I changed out the first keg, almost dropping the damned thing on my foot when Bree bent in front of me to pick up something from the floor and flashed her ass.
