“Seriously, Meghan, you need to tell me if you need any help. I waited tables and tended bar for years.”

Meghan sniffled and gave Bridget’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks, hon. We’re good, for right now, at least, I think. Next week, though? Your guess is as good as mine. If I can just keep Da from trying to do too much, too soon . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she grinned weakly at Bridget.

Bridget nodded.

“Sully’s supported my Da’s music for years. I know I just met you, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life.” Bridget sucked in a shaky breath, hoping to at least give Meghan some semblance of commiseration. “I mean it. Anything you need.”

Meghan nodded. “I will. I’m gonna freshen my makeup some. Can you tell Ronnie that I’ll be down in just a sec?”

“Sure.” Bridget impulsively hugged Meghan, shocking both Meghan and herself. “Okay. Um. Yeah. See you down there.”

Bridget scampered down the stairs and tried not to cry. Eamon Sullivan, Sully, as he was called by all the patrons of Foley’s Public House, had changed drastically in just the short time Bridget had known him. Spry and gregarious, he was the stereotypical vision of an Irish bar owner just six months ago. Now, he was all but a shut-in in the apartment he shared with his daughter, Meghan, rarely venturing downstairs. Meghan had essentially been running the bar for years, but Bridget could tell the dark-haired bartender was terrified, both for the establishment and for her father. Bridget would be the same way.

She halted when she saw Tobias. Skankin’ Janey Mac generally had a local opener, and she knew Tobias had been asked back, but she hadn’t put two and two together. She hung back by the stairs, which afforded her an unencumbered view of the entire pub. She searched the open bar area for Nolan’s sweetly handsome face. After all, at six and a half feet tall, he was a hard fellow to miss.

Ah, there he is. Nolan was sitting at a high top with two other guys, and he looked absolutely miserable. The other men wore what Bridget’s best friend, Kat, called the Douchebag Uniform—flip-flops, khaki shorts, and a visor. They had several empty shot glasses in front of them, plus a half-empty pitcher of beer. One of them slugged Nolan on the arm and then wrapped his own arm around Nolan’s neck and obnoxiously mussed his hair. Nolan extricated himself, but the handsy guy grabbed hold of Nolan’s shirt. Bridget hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to intervene, but decided she’d rather risk irritating Nolan than leaving him at the mercy of those two idiots. Bridget let her hair down, undid another button on her blouse, and stalked toward the high top.

All three men noticed her making her way to their table. Handsy and Mouthbreather merely stood and gaped, but Nolan wore the most remarkable expression on his face. She didn’t quite know what to think of it, so she locked eyes with the big man and adopted what she hoped was a sultry look.

“Nolan.” Bridget stood on the opposite side of the table from him, shoulders back, boobs out. She felt ridiculous but knew the stance worked by the way that all three men ogled her.

“Hey, Bridget.” Unlike Handsy and Mouthbreather, Nolan never took his eyes from Bridget’s. Score another for Nolan. “I didn’t expect you to be here tonight.”

“Wait—you know her, Harper?” Handsy looked from Nolan to Bridget and back. “Seriously?”

Bridget thought she saw a slight tic in Nolan’s jaw, and she was sure she saw his nostrils flare a bit, but he just nodded and replied in an even tone, “Sorry, guys. This is Bridget. Bridget, this is Brock”—Nolan nodded at Handsy and then at Mouthbreather—“and this is Hunter.”

“Charmed, boys.” Bridget nodded at the two douchebags but made sure they knew she was there for Nolan by moving closer to him and leaning one arm on the table, almost rubbing up against him. She was pretty sure she was flashing some sideboob at Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber, and she knew for sure that Nolan could see straight down her blouse, but she didn’t really give a shit.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tobias glance over at the table and then do a double take, and she thought maybe this little distraction might be working too well. She decided to rein in it. She stopped posing as aggressively and subtly moved away from Nolan.

“Yeah, I know the band from back in Boston, and I figured I’d stop in and see them.” Not a lie, though she prayed that Nolan would remember her father was in a band and that he would act accordingly. She’d planned on running the Douchey Twins off by the time her father came down from visiting with Sully. Hopefully. If not, well, her mild-mannered father might be knocking some heads together, and none of them needed that.

Nolan grinned at her, and she knew that he got it. “It’s always nice to have an in, right?”

“Totally.” Bridget had a flash vision of the hem of her blouse wrapped in Nolan’s big hands and his face buried between her breasts, and she wondered if she was just perverted or if his words truly had a double meaning. Nolan’s eyes flicked down to her cleavage, and she felt her nipples tighten. Unless he was blind, he’d notice, and she wasn’t sure she cared.

Brock looked from Bridget to Nolan and back a few times. Then he shook his head and downed the drink in front of him.

“Hunter, let’s jet. We’ve got to get to that thing.” Brock punched his buddy.

“What? We don’t have to be anywhere because we weren’t invited—ow! Shit, Brock. What’s your problem, man? Don’t you want to . . . oh. Yeah, that thing. We need to go, right?”

“Right. Bridget, it was interesting meeting you.”

She beamed an insincere smile at the two men as they left the table, and then turned back to Nolan, who was staring at her.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said in a low voice.

“Are you angry?”

He chuckled. “God, no. How could I be mad at that? Those guys were giving me shit about coming by myself, and I was trying to figure out how to get rid of them. That was pretty perfect.”

“I’m glad you’re not mad. I didn’t want to upset you, but you seemed miserable.”

“Yeah. But thanks, Bridget. I mean it.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Tobias Harper, and I’d like to thank Foley’s Public House for letting me open for Skankin’ Janey Mac tonight. I’m gonna open the night with a standard, so grab a partner—this means you, Baby Brother—and shake a leg.”

The strains of “Orange Blossom Special” began, and Nolan extended his hand. Bridget laughed but didn’t hesitate to take his hand, and they moved to the dance floor.