Chapter 6
For the better part of a week following their last confrontation, Kiera managed to steer clear of Bryan. Obviously she had to speak to him when placing orders or relaying special requests from their customers, but there was a deliberate civility between them these days. She should have been grateful, but it was starting to get on her nerves almost as badly as their previous exchanges of quick-tempered words. She knew exactly how to deal with a mercurial temper. Stiff politeness was something else entirely.
“You and Bryan seem to have made peace,” Moira said one evening as the crowd was thinning. “I’m not hearing the tart comments and testy tones this week. How did that come about?”
Kiera shrugged. “We’re both trying a bit harder, I suppose. Luke has repeatedly told me he wants peace and harmony among the staff. I’m trying to do my part to achieve that. Bryan must be as well, though it doesn’t seem to suit him. He cuts himself off midsentence, when we both know perfectly well he wants to lash out and put me in my place.”
Moira regarded her curiously. “You don’t sound pleased about him making the effort.”
Kiera hesitated then admitted, “It doesn’t seem quite natural, if you know what I mean. Has Luke gone a step beyond and ordered him to be on his best behavior around me just because I’m your mother?”
“I seriously doubt it,” Moira said. “Has he given you instructions to go easy on Bryan?”
“He’s stressed again and again that Bryan’s invaluable as his chef and that we need to find a way to get along. I’ve taken that to heart, but I thought Bryan was too stubborn to listen.”
Moira smiled. “Well, however it came about, you’re doing as Luke wanted.”
“Not really. What we’re doing is being exceedingly polite whenever we can’t possibly avoid each other. That’s not the same as real teamwork.”
Her daughter carefully banked a smile. “And that’s now driving you crazy? Do you have any idea why?”
“I told you before. It’s not natural.”
“And the bickering felt right?”
“Well, of course not,” Kiera said impatiently, knowing that she was making little sense. “Who wants to argue with someone day and night over the slightest thing?”
Moira laughed. “Do you know what my brothers told me about the early days when Dad was still around?”
Kiera stared at her, startled by the change of topic, especially the shift to Sean Malone. Moira knew perfectly well that she didn’t like talking about the past in general or Sean in particular. “The three of you talked about that?”
“Of course we did. I was curious about the man I never got to meet. You never wanted to answer my questions. It always made you either sad or angry, so I stopped asking you and coaxed things out of the two of them. Not that they could be credited with much insight, but their memories were clear enough.”
Kiera should have realized that her daughter would naturally be curious about the father who’d abandoned her. And, given Moira’s stubborn streak, Kiera also should have known her daughter wouldn’t have given up without answers from someone. Just because she’d stopped asking Kiera, Kiera shouldn’t have assumed she’d stopped asking at all.
“And what did your brothers tell you?” Kiera inquired. “Not that they could be trusted. They were practically babies themselves.”
“They were old enough to remember that before the drinking got so bad, the two of you would argue night and day. Bickering is what they called it.”
“And they recalled that as being a happy time?” Kiera asked incredulously.
“They said it was always with an undertone of affection and that you always kissed and made up.”
Kiera sighed. That much was true. There had been so much heat between them that any conversation could turn from peaceful to all-out warfare in a heartbeat, then end with another sort of passion entirely. She hadn’t known her sons were so aware of the pattern. She’d assumed they were far too young to have any real awareness of the stormy dynamics between their parents.
“Did you?” Moira prodded. “Always kiss and make up?”
Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, Kiera nodded. “Until we didn’t.”
“They noted the change,” Moira said, surprising Kiera again. “They said it was as if you both simply stopped caring about making things right and the arguing was all that mattered.”
That summed it up nicely, Kiera thought, but concluded they’d delved into the past quite enough for one sitting. And she wasn’t sure she liked where her daughter was heading with this.
“Are you drawing some sort of comparison between those days and what goes on between me and Bryan? If so, you couldn’t be more wrong.” She hoped her firm words would put an end to that, though she was forced to admit she’d wondered about it herself lately. While she hadn’t reached any conclusions, she had lectured herself with reminders that it was not a pattern to be embraced yet again.
“I’ve seen the passion in your exchanges with Bryan,” Moira insisted.
“It’s not of a personal nature. It’s because I care about doing my job, about doing the best I can for Luke and the pub,” Kiera countered, satisfied with the spin.
“That’s some of it, I’m sure, but I think it runs deeper. I think there’s chemistry at work. I’ll admit I didn’t like it at first. I said as much to Luke. I thought it was disrespectful to Peter, but I’m forced to admit that it’s made you come alive. There’s been a spark in your eyes and color in your cheeks.” She regarded Kiera intently. “That’s really all I want for you. I want you to go on living.”
“And you think battling wits with Bryan Laramie over his Irish stew or his fish and chips holds the key to that?”
“Maybe. It’s not as if you have to rush into something with him or anyone else. Just keep an open mind, the same way I’m trying to do.”
“Moira, darling, I love that you want to see me happy, but some sort of romance with a man who gets on my last nerve is not the answer. The only thing I feel when I see Bryan is the desire to shake some sense into him.”
Moira laughed. “Exactly.”
“You have a very odd understanding of the way relationships should work,” Kiera concluded. “I suppose I’m to blame for that, since I set no example at all for you. Your dad was long gone and I never let another man into our lives until you pushed me toward Peter. He was another sort entirely. He was kind, respectful and steady, exactly the sort of man capable of giving me the life I’d never had.”
To her surprise, Moira looked deeply troubled by her words. “You would have settled for that?”
“It wasn’t settling,” Kiera said indignantly. “I was reaching for happiness. Why would you say such a thing? You and your grandfather believed that Peter was perfect for me. Now you’re questioning it?”
“I know. I’m surprised myself. It was just hearing the way you described him, as if he were a comfortable fit.”
“And what’s wrong with that? At my age and with my background with your father, comfortable holds a great appeal.”
“A few months ago, I would have agreed and seen nothing at all wrong with it,” Moira told her. “But it implies that you’re past passion, like a woman who chooses shoes that don’t hurt her feet over those that make her feel feminine and sexy.”
Kiera didn’t like the analogy, but she was forced to admit she could see the truth of it. “Perhaps that’s where I am in my life.”
“I don’t believe it. I’ve seen a difference when you’re around Bryan,” Moira said, then grinned. “I don’t like saying it, because you’re my mother, after all, but it reminds me of the way things are between Luke and me. There’s a lot of heat and electricity when the two of you are in the same room.”
It was a bit frightening to have her daughter romanticizing the situation. Kiera had to put an end to the speculation or any attempt at matchmaking it might inspire. “If there are any sparks at all, and I’m not saying there are, it’s only because he’s infuriating,” she responded emphatically.
Moira clearly wasn’t persuaded. “And just saying so brings you alive in a way I’ve never seen before,” she replied, then slipped off the bar stool and gave Kiera a kiss. “Something to think about.”
Kiera would think about it, alright. But only long enough to question whether her daughter had taken complete leave of her senses.
* * *
Kiera’s six-month work visa came through the day after her disconcerting conversation with her daughter. She almost wished there’d been some glitch that she could have used as an excuse to pack up and run back to Ireland, back to comfortable and steady in an environment that soothed her. That, however, was not to be, and the truth was, she really wanted a while longer to soak in the world of the O’Briens and Chesapeake Shores itself.
One certainty, though, was that she needed to have a good sit-down with Luke and define her position at the pub more precisely. Even more essential, she needed to make good on her plan to find her own place now that her future here was settled for a few months at least.
Luke and Moira continued to assure her they were content having her living in their guest room, but even their spacious house was too crowded to have a mother-in-law in residence for more than the brief time she’d already spent there. And after last night’s chat with Moira, she didn’t want her daughter watching her every move and analyzing it, especially when it came to her personal life.
The very next day at Sally’s, she decided to address the problem without giving Moira a chance to try to talk her out of it.
“I need a place of my own,” Kiera announced, appealing to Luke’s sister, Susie O’Brien Franklin, when the O’Brien women were gathered for coffee at Sally’s. She’d been told Susie’s history with ovarian cancer and heard the story about her recent adoption of a baby girl. Though Susie and her husband, Mack Franklin, had faced tragedy, it was her triumphs that had been the focus of the telling. Kiera had also been told that Susie knew every piece of property available for sale or for rent in Chesapeake Shores.
As she’d expected, Moira regarded her with dismay. “Mum, I’ve told you again and again that Luke and I are happy to have you,” she protested. “Your visa’s only for six months. Why move out for such a short time? You’ll barely have time to get settled. You don’t need to find your own place until you decide if you’ll be staying indefinitely.”
“And your grandfather has said the same,” Kiera told her patiently. “He and Nell have invited me to stay with them. This is for the best. I don’t like being underfoot. After you and your brothers went off on your own, I grew used to being in my own space, answering to no one.”
“And I know the perfect place,” Susie chimed in eagerly before Moira could present another argument against moving. “I haven’t even had time to post the listing. It just came in last night, when Uncle Mick finished the renovations. It’s just a little cottage, no more than a guesthouse, really, on a piece of property that even has its own tiny glimpse of the bay. It’s completely furnished. The owner was forced to move into a retirement home because she could no longer maintain the property on her own, so she’s renting the main house and the guesthouse separately to cover her costs.”
“The house on Lilac Lane,” Bree O’Brien Collins guessed, her eyes lighting up. “Jake always took care of the landscaping there. He still does most of it, but now—”
She was clearly about to say more when a sharp look from Susie silenced her. Whatever the message between the two women, Bree stumbled over her words only slightly before adding, “There’s no place in town that has more beautiful lilacs this time of year.”
“It sounds lovely,” Kiera said, letting the awkward moment pass. “There’s nothing more wonderful than the scent of lilacs filling the air on a spring breeze.”
“If it appeals to you, Kiera, let’s go see it,” Susie said at once. “Rental properties in Chesapeake Shores never last long. Once the listing is out there, it won’t take long to rent. You’ll want to grab it right away. I’ll get the key from the office and drive you over.”
“Kate and I are coming, too,” Moira insisted. “I don’t want you rushing into something just to avoid being underfoot.”
Kiera rolled her eyes, but agreed to have an entourage as she inspected the cottage.
A half hour later as she roamed through the cozy, freshly painted, furnished rooms, all of them filled with natural light, new hardwood floors and with the scent of lilacs drifting through the front door they’d left open, Kiera was charmed. Her daughter questioned the size of it, but Kiera found it perfect for her needs. It even had a tiny guest room, should her granddaughter ever spend the night. It reminded her of quaint cottages by the sea in Ireland. And there was, indeed, that glimpse of the bay that Susie had promised. The view was no doubt better from the main house, but this would definitely do.
“This is perfect,” she said happily.
The rent was a delightful surprise, too, low enough to be easily covered by what Luke had insisted on paying her at the pub now that all of the legalities were settled. He’d handed her the first check just last night. There were absolutely no drawbacks that she could see, at least not until she walked outside and saw Bryan Laramie stalking across the lawn, a scowl on his face.
“What’s this?” he demanded.
Oblivious to his brusque demeanor or choosing to ignore it, Susie beamed at him. “I’ve found a renter for the cottage,” she announced cheerfully. “You and Kiera will be neighbors. Isn’t that perfect? You’ll be able to ride to work together.”
Bryan looked not one bit happier about that idea than Kiera was. She whirled on her daughter. “Did you know about this?” she asked Moira. “Were you just playing devil’s advocate to trick me into agreeing to this house before I realized who I’d have as a neighbor? After our talk last night, I’d think you would know better.”
“Mum, that would be far too devious, even for me,” Moira replied, though the feigned innocence in her tone was defied by the laughter she was trying to keep contained.
“And you?” Kiera said to Susie. “Is this the reason you silenced Bree so quickly back at Sally’s? Was she about to mention my new neighbor?”
“I rent properties, nothing more,” Susie said, though her grin gave her away, as well.
There had been a plot afoot, no question about it, one of those O’Brien conspiracies she’d heard so much about. Apparently Moira had seen this day coming and conspired with Susie to make this happen. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Moira’d had a hand in choosing paint colors, since they suited her so perfectly.
If she hadn’t fallen in love with the cottage at first glance, Kiera might have walked away from the deal, from the whole sneaky lot of them, in fact. One glance into Bryan’s challenging gaze had her changing her mind, though. She would not be chased off by his dark scowl or by the exchange of knowing glances between her daughter and Susie. No matter their roles in planning this, the mere thought of making Bryan’s life uncomfortable provided the possibility of more entertainment than she’d had in years. If there were other reasons for planting herself quite visibly in his path, well, it was probably best if she didn’t think too long or hard about those.
* * *
Bryan drove down the winding narrow road that was Lilac Lane, still stewing over the discovery that his new neighbor was to be Kiera Malone. She’d moved in the day before. He’d watched her taking a few suitcases into the house and fought the temptation to offer help. He knew her well enough to realize she would have taken it as an insult. She took her desire for independence to amazing heights, and any offer of help from him would have been regarded with special disdain.
This morning, as he rounded a curve, the very woman plaguing his thoughts appeared from nowhere in the early-morning haze. Muttering a curse, he hit the brakes.
“Do you have a death wish?” he inquired, his heart still racing from the close call. “Only an idiot would walk down the middle of the road on a day when the visibility is next to zero.”
“It’s not exactly a road, now, is it? It’s a private lane. You’re the only person living on it with a car.”
“So you thought you’d test your luck with me? After all the encounters we’ve had at the pub, didn’t it occur to you that I could be the most dangerous driver of all, at least where you’re concerned?”
She shrugged. “My Moira believes you’re a gentleman. And Luke sings your praises. While my own opinion is less enthusiastic, I can’t imagine you’re any more dangerous behind the wheel than you are in the kitchen.”
“Where you seem to think my skills are lacking,” he reminded her. He sighed. “Would you like a lift?”
“With a dangerous man such as yourself?”
“I promise to try to get us both to the pub in one piece.”
“Then it would be rude of me to refuse.”
She slid gracefully into the passenger seat, her movements exposing just a bit of the creamy skin above her knee. Bryan had a hard time tearing his gaze away until he reminded himself that this was Kiera Malone, his boss’s mother-in-law, and a woman who seemed destined to turn his previously contented existence into chaos. These uncomfortable, wayward thoughts needed to be tamped down.
“Kiera, do you suppose it’s possible for us to call a truce?” he asked, his tone far more plaintive than he would have liked. He’d heard that her work visa had been approved, so he had to find some way to make a lasting peace with her. She clearly wasn’t going anywhere, at least not for months.
“Were we at war?” she inquired tartly as if she’d been unaware of it.
“Not exactly war, but we seem to have differences of opinion about everything. You tried rearranging the spices in the pantry at the pub, for heaven’s sake. And I’ve caught you trying to move my pots and pans around, as well.”
“I thought there were more efficient arrangements,” she told him. “If you’d given them half a chance, you would have seen that.”
“The arrangements I had were perfectly fine,” he retorted, then waved off the argument. In the overall scheme of things, it was inconsequential, even if he’d said otherwise when he’d caught her.
“Kiera, surely we can find common ground. We both like your daughter, for one thing. And I, at least, respect Luke. I doubt he’d have you working at the pub if he didn’t think you’d contribute to the ambience he’s worked hard to create. You obviously have experience at pubs in Ireland that I lack. Your father and Nell, people I admire, are in your corner, as well. Could that be our starting point, the people we have in common?”
She studied him with a narrowed gaze. “Does it matter to you so much that you and I truly get along? We both know my stay here will only be for a few months. Then you’ll be rid of me and able to go back to doing things your own way in the kitchen, even if those ways are mostly wrong.”
Bryan’s temper, held carefully in check for at least five minutes, went from simmer to boil in a heartbeat. “Wrong? Shall I pass on that opinion to Nell, since I’m doing the Irish dishes exactly as she taught me.”
“Is that so?” she asked skeptically. “And the menu as a whole? Did she add the she-crab soup, something I doubt you’d find in an Irish pub?”
“It was a concession to the expectations of those visiting Chesapeake Shores, added with her full approval. As were the steamed crabs and the oysters in season.”
“And those odd cheesy things, were they her suggestion, too?”
“Are you referring to the crab quesadillas?”
She nodded.
Bryan hesitated. While it was true that Nell had agreed to the experiment, she’d railed against the fact that no such thing would be on a pub menu in Dublin. She’d been won over after she’d tasted one, then added a word of caution. “But only as an occasional special,” she’d insisted. “Unless popular demand suggests otherwise.”
Popular demand had pushed them right to the top of the pub’s specialties on the lunch menu, Bryan was proud to report a few weeks after he’d introduced them. He glanced over at Kiera.
“There’s no reason traditional Irish pub food can’t be blended satisfactorily with regional dishes,” he told her. “It makes us unique.”
“I would think the Irish menu, the selection of ales and music would do that quite nicely all on their own,” she retorted. “Is there another such restaurant in the vicinity that I’ve not yet seen? In Ireland there’s a pub around every corner and they see no need to deviate from the traditional. It’s the individual atmosphere and the collection of regulars that provide the draw.”
“From a much larger pool of customers,” Bryan argued. “Believe it or not, Kiera, Luke and I were making a success of this pub with the input from Nell and Moira.”
She paled at that. “So I’m not needed at all, is that it?”
He saw the flicker of pain in her eyes and felt a momentary pang. He knew Luke wanted her to feel welcome, and that Moira, Dillon and Nell were hoping she’d find a permanent home in Chesapeake Shores. Her place at the pub was a critical element of that dream.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said, even though the words didn’t come easily. For a man who’d uttered few apologies in a lifetime, he seemed to be making a habit of it since Kiera had come around. “I just meant that not every single thing needs to be changed. I’m sure you have some innovative ideas to make us even more successful and authentic. Maybe you could put some on paper and we could talk about them before we open one day, not when I’m in the middle of trying to feed a crowd of people and my temper’s already short.”
She seemed genuinely startled. “You’re actually willing to listen to my ideas?”
“Sure. Why not? I’m as eager to try new things as the next person.” At one time he would have been chomping at the bit to make his own innovations. He’d left culinary school eager to make his mark. He’d wanted to impress the food critics and earn raves from his customers. Somehow he’d lost that enthusiasm along the way. He could pinpoint the precise moment, but he’d stopped dwelling on it.
He glanced over and caught Kiera studying him intently, her expression filled with skepticism. Eventually she nodded.
“I’ll take you at your word, then,” she conceded. “And perhaps we can give that truce of yours a try, as well.”
Bryan pulled into a parking space behind the pub, shut off the engine and turned to her. He was surprised to see a faint spark of excitement in her blue eyes. It gave them the brightness of sapphires, he decided, then shook off the thought as another of those unexpected and inappropriate digressions he should be avoiding.
He did not need to be noticing Kiera Malone’s bright eyes or her lush hips or the creaminess of her skin. He didn’t need to start thinking of her as a woman at all, he reminded himself fiercely.
Because in his past experience, females did little beyond driving a man crazy and then leaving him with a broken heart. He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. In fact, years later, he was still recovering from the last time.