Sleep? Why had Bran ever thought he’d get better sleep without Ireland?

He’d tossed and turned all night, reliving the mind-blowing pleasure he’d experienced in her arms, now distorted with guilt.

It happened. People got caught up in the moment and forgot, or ignored, using protection. But Bran didn’t. Not after he learned his lesson in high school and almost ruined a girl’s life. God knew what lasting effects his carelessness had had on her. And he’d done it again. Only this time, it had been with a woman he was falling in love with.

Ireland had become a light in his life. This beautiful, funny, sexy woman had landed in his lap—and he’d put them both in a compromising position.

Bran strode into Prime, still turning over how he could have made such a stupid mistake, when the day manager stepped in front of him out of nowhere.

“Hey, Jacky,” he said. “Everything okay?”

Jacky shifted her weight, wringing her hands. “Not really.”

Excellent. “How can I help you?”

“It’s the ordering system. We’re having issues with it again, only this time it’s worse.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s been running fine. Not an incorrect order since we had it rebuilt.”

“I don’t understand it either, but something’s up. We’ve had two hundred incorrect orders this morning, and the financials are a mess.”

“Two hundred?” he said. “How is that possible? It’s barely ten o’clock.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, but we’ve been receiving angry phone calls all morning. Orders not correct. Overcharging issues.”

Bran grit his teeth. “Shut it down.”

“I did an hour ago, but the orders…”

“Fix them,” he said. “Give everyone back their money. Call in the off-duty managers and get them to help clean up this mess.”

Jacky nodded, but the strain was evident on her face.

Bran stretched his neck, the tendons popping. “How much of a loss are we talking about?”

“Roughly ten grand, plus the cost of food, the expense for the service that delivers the food, and overhead.”

So basically, the morning’s entire take for all four restaurants.

They received takeout and delivery orders in the morning, but not two hundred. “I’ll call the software company. Find out what’s going on.” Though how Tech Banquet would fix this, Bran didn’t know. This was Ireland’s work.

Ireland. Fuck. He hadn’t called her after she left last night. And now he had to put out a major fire at the club. A fire she could be responsible for.

There was no way he was calling Ireland with this. Bran was already on rocky terms with her after the way he’d acted last night. He’d try to fix it himself.

Tech Banquet responded immediately to Bran’s call by sending over a new programmer. They’d fired James after Bran described his behavior and the police involvement. No surprise there. But some of the issues they were having this morning sounded oddly familiar.

How was it possible the program was having the same issues it had before Ireland redesigned it? There was no direct connection to Tech Banquet—the program worked off Club Tahoe servers. None of this made sense.

The new programmer spent all day looking at the incorrect orders and the code Ireland had written. “Calls are coming in from all over Lake Tahoe, even north shore,” the guy said. “Do you normally receive orders that far away?”

“Not typically. A few here and there are possible, but usually during dinner hours.”

The guy rubbed his jaw. “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Other than everything about this day, Bran thought.

“In addition to orders coming from unusual locations, several of the numbers listed are the same, but with different addresses. And the bills aren’t matching up perfectly. The charges are slightly more than the bill.”

“So we’re reimbursing more than the cost?”

“Well, yes, but not by much. A dollar or more, tops.”

Bran took a deep breath. “So, just like last time.” Why the fuck had he purchased this motherfucking piece-of-shit system? “Can you fix it?”

“Definitely, but it won’t happen overnight. I’ll need a week or two.”

“And Tech Banquet is covering the expense?”

The guy shifted his feet the way Jacky had earlier. “Actually, no. My boss said you hired a subcontractor who came in and rewrote the program. We’ll have to bill you for my time.”

“Tech Banquet hired her as a subcontractor,” Bran said. But Bran had recommended her…and paid her. Son of a bitch.

The programmer held up his hands. “I’m just the messenger.”

Bran stormed out of the restaurant and headed for the lounge where his brothers were meeting up tonight. Time to face the music. His brothers wouldn’t be happy. But no one was more pissed off than Bran.

“Again?” Levi said.

Bran swigged his beer, pulling his ball cap lower. He rolled incognito when out with his brothers—too many groupies around the resort curious about the wealthy sons who’d inherited the place. Hunt was the only one taking advantage these days, and Bran wanted nothing to do with it. He’d forgotten to wear his ball cap lately, not worried about groupies with Ireland in his life. But tonight he mentally and physically needed the cover.

The weight of his brothers’ gazes nearly leveled him.

“Damn, Bran, we just got the club’s finances out of the red, and now this?” That was Wes. He’d saved their asses last year with the PGA tournament. Wes was optimistic they’d be asked to host again. Just not this year.

Wes turned to Levi and Emily. “How bad is it?”

“Not terrible, financially,” Levi said, “but it could damage our reputation for excellent service.”

“It’s a bit of a snafu, but we’ll deal with it,” Emily said. “We’ve got new programs our customers are excited about. Thanks to the Club Kids, our next two summers will be at full occupancy.”

“Except that the new customers are pissed off about their orders being screwed up,” Levi mumbled.

They’d made the decision to invest in the restaurants together, and Bran wasn’t letting his hard-assed older brother pin all the blame on him. “Most of the orders were to-go orders. They shouldn’t affect our in-house customers.”

Adam rolled up his sleeves, having draped his suit jacket over the back of the chair. “That’s some consolation.”

“Right,” Bran said. “Act like you care. The worse Club Tahoe looks, the better it is for Blue Casino.”

“Hey, jackass,” Adam said, “I own part of Club Tahoe. I have every reason to care about its profitability.”

Hunt held up his hand. “Everyone, just simmer down. Bran, you fucked up, but we’ll fix it. We always do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bran said. “I’m not the fuck-up in this family.”

Hunt leaned forward, eyes hard. “Did I suggest you were? I know you all think I’m the loose cannon, but none of you are angels.”

No one responded to Hunt’s comment. Probably because it was true.

Hunt was the brother who got into the most trouble. But Hunt was also the brother who’d come up with the children’s program, which was currently saving their asses and bringing in new clientele. So, yeah, they’d been hard on him. It didn’t help that when Hunt wasn’t working, he was up to his old games with women. He was an easy target.

“Sorry,” Bran said. “I’m upset with myself, not you. I’ve taken liberties lately, and it’s coming back to bite me.”

“Liberties?” Emily looked to Levi.

Levi shook his head, confusion in his eyes.

“In my personal life,” Bran said. “I haven’t made the club my first priority.”

“Bran,” Wes said, “none of us do. You’re allowed to have a personal life. In fact,”—he looked around, meeting the eyes of their brothers—“we’re all happy you finally have one. Ireland’s a great girl.”

“Ireland?” Emily said. “The programmer?” She looked to Levi. “Why don’t you keep me informed of this stuff?”

“I didn’t know.” Levi glared at the rest of them. “Stop getting me in trouble.”

“Not our fault if you don’t pay attention to Bran’s love life,” Wes said.

Adam sipped his martini. “Hayden hooked them up. My wife knows what she’s about.”

Hayden might have helped free up Ireland’s schedule to consult for Club Tahoe, but the booze cruise set things off. The consulting work simply stirred the flames.

That was all it had taken—proximity. Once Ireland was close, Bran had a hard time letting her go. But now he’d fucked everything up.

“Yeah, well,” Bran said, “now I have to tell her that her program just cost us ten grand and our resort’s reputation.”

Adam winced. “Are you aiming for the doghouse? If not, I suggest a different tactic.”

Bran glared. “What choice do I have? It’s either that, or we pay Tech Banquet God knows how much to rewrite the program again.”

“Ireland is sharp,” Adam said. “I’m not sure what’s going on with the software, but she’ll fix it. She’s killing it at Blue. My bosses kiss the ground she walks on.”

Bran pulled the bill of his ball cap down. He didn’t know what to think. All he knew was that Ireland had rewritten the program, and now Club Tahoe was worse off than before.