“Jax,” I warned.
He winked at me.
As God was my witness, I’d been winked at by Jax more in the past three weeks than in the past three years by anyone.
Martin raised his chin. “Say what you got to say, Yank.”
“Swear to God, Jax, you pay him a bribe, and I’ll?—”
“Here’s two hundred.” Jax slipped him the money right as I warned him not to. “Think of it as a tip from me for a job well done.”
My hands were on my hips. I scoffed.
Martin looked at the money and then at me as if waiting to see how this was a trap. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier.
“Hey, I’m just saying, it’s not my fault—” Martin started, but Jax cut in smoothly.
“Martin, mate,” he cut him off, his drawl disarming. “This offer is time-limited, and it also requires you to apologize to Dee.”
Martin was torn. The two hundred euros looked good, better than he’d had in a while, but the idea of apologizing to me was….
“Come on, man, it’s one keg. Swap it out, and you’re a hero. Keep arguing, and you’ll be the guy who killed Guinness night in Ballybeg,” Jax cajoled.
Martin’s mouth opened, then closed. For once in his life, he thought better of saying whatever was on his mind. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry, Dee. I’ll get a new keg for you.”
“Don’t forget to take this one.” I pointed to the one I’d pulled out when I realized the damn thing was unusable.
Martin wasn’t happy, even though he had two hundred in his pocket for his incompetence. “Don’t think it’s gonna happen again, though, Dee.”
Jax sighed.
Aye, I thought, you couldn’t teach a moron to save his own life.
“Of course not,” I remarked, my voice saccharine sweet. “Next time, I’ll just call your competitor, the one from Cork who has been sniffing around Ballybeg for one whole year.”
This was true, but it would cost me more and hurt my already slim profit margin, but Martin didn’t need to know about that.
Martin stomped out of the pub, and everyone clapped and then went back to their business.
“We live to fight another day,” Ronan cried out like we were in an old battle scene before going back to the kitchen.
I turned to Jax, crossing my arms. “What was that?”
“What?” He feigned innocence, his grin widening.
“You think you can throw your money around and things will happen?”
Jax frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do think so.”
“You can’t just?—”
“Sure, I can.” He dipped his head, and before I could step away, he kissed my nose.
My nose?
Who kissed noses? Not people like Jax and me, who hadn’t even had a shag. No — nose kisses were for couples in real relationships. The kind married for five hundred years. Affectionate. Intimate. Playful. All at once.
There was more clapping.
