And why the hell were you on her beach?”
“It’s not her beach. It’s public. I got as much right to be there as anybody.”
“Gramps is dead. Let it go already,” Tommy said, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t lie. You’re not making it easy to help you, Aidan.”
“Look, I appreciate everything you do for me. And I work hard to stay on track, so I don’t let you down. Give me some credit. Stop riding me when I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I can’t stand to see you backslide. That’s all.”
“I’m not backsliding. I wouldn’t do that to you. Don’t worry. Please, Tommy,” he said.
“Fine, I’ll back off. But you need to stay away from that woman’s house. You got it?”
A second police cruiser drove up, sparing Aidan from having to answer. Wayne Johnson and Mike Castro got out.
Tommy punched Aidan on the shoulder lightly. “You heard what I said. Now be a good kid, and set up a round for me and the boys, all right?”
For the next hour, Aidan hung around the edges of his brother’s party, keeping the drinks flowing, and basking in the reflected glory. When Tommy was around, Aidan became everybody’s kid brother. He felt almost included, almost like he belonged. But who was he kidding? Tommy’s guys thought he was dirt, and no matter what he did, they always would.
Then she walked in. Second time in two days, and he thought, She’s looking for something. Maybe she’s looking for me. Why else come to this place? Someone like her has got to feel a townie bar is beneath her. But maybe she didn’t. Or else she liked him enough to ignore that. It was possible, given the way she’d looked at him that day on the beach. His luck could still change. All he needed was one good break, and he had a funny feeling that this woman might be it. She hadn’t given him the time of day when she came in here the other night, and he offered to comp her drink. But then again, he hadn’t really tried.
He leaned over to his brother. “That’s her. That’s the woman who owns the house,” he said, under his breath.
“Yeah? So?”
“Watch, you’re gonna see I was telling the truth before. This lady likes me.”
“That rich chick likes you?” Tommy said, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not lying. Watch. You’ll see.”
10
The bar was crowded and noisy, and all the booths were taken. I was lucky to find an empty barstool at the far end, near the bathrooms. The bathroom doors kept opening and closing, letting out powerful blasts of air freshener. The place was a dive, with kitschy beach décor—all anchors and ropes and fake lobster traps. I’d just taken off my coat, and I was already tempted to put it back on and leave. But then the bartender came over. I remembered him from the beach. I remembered thinking he’d seemed dangerous at first, then deciding I was wrong. But that moment was when I noticed him for real. I noticed that he had one of those perfect, lazy smiles that make the world seem warmer and more welcoming. There was even a dimple in one cheek. He was wearing this deep-blue chambray shirt that matched his eyes, and khaki pants. His hair was brushed. He didn’t look thuggish tonight. He looked like a college guy, the one in your dorm that all the girls had a crush on.
“Hey, you. I was hoping you’d come back,” he said.
I practically looked over my shoulder to see if he was talking to someone else.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. You ran off last time, before we got a chance to talk.”
“Um. Well. Doesn’t look like we’ll get much chance to talk tonight. Busy in here for a Wednesday.”
Stupid line. But I was feeling self-conscious. I’m not generally the sort of woman who goes to bars alone, and to have the hot bartender start flirting me up right away—it threw me.
“We have our two-for-one happy hour on Wednesdays. Everybody likes a cheap drink,” he said.
“I could use a cheap drink myself tonight. I’m Caroline, by the way.”
“I know your name. You told me on the beach, and then I tended bar at your party. I wouldn’t forget a woman like you.”
He had a sexy voice, gravelly, a little rough. I extended my hand. He gripped it for half a second too long, gazing into my eyes. He was extremely handsome. Sandy hair gone blond at the ends, blue eyes that crinkled at the edges from staring into the sun, tall and broad-shouldered, perfect white teeth. Like a surfer from a beach movie, or an underwear model. I should have gotten up and walked out right then. But things were so messed up, and I needed to dull the pain. So instead, I asked his name.
God, was I stupid.
“You forgot my name?”
He actually looked hurt. I told myself he was probably pretending, and anyway, I secretly liked it. His reaction should’ve been a warning sign. Instead, it gave me a cheap thrill.
“I’m sorry. I’m not good with names.”
He nodded. “Aidan Callahan. Nice to meet for real this time, Caroline—?”
“Stark.”
“Can I get you a Moscow mule, Caroline Stark?”
“Oh. No. Those were just for the party. I’ll take a vodka and soda, if you don’t mind. That’s my drink.”
“Good to know. Be right back.”
But he didn’t come right back. A lot of the customers seemed to know one another, and they all knew him. I liked that. I like a guy who’s outgoing. Jason’s reserved, even sullen sometimes. I can’t always tell what he’s thinking. But I watched Aidan glad-handing the cops at the other end of the bar and thought, That’s a simple, down-home, easygoing guy. And easy on the eyes. If only I were ten years younger, or not married, I’d … No. I’d better stop thinking like that, or I’d end up acting on it when I shouldn’t. I absolutely shouldn’t.
They were teasing him as he poured another round, calling his name. Aidan. Aidan Callahan. An Irishman, obviously; we had that in common.
Aidan came back smiling, carrying two drinks and a dish of mixed nuts.
“Are those both for me? Do I look like that much of a lush?” I said.
I gave him a seductive laugh, and thought, Where the hell did that come from? It had been a long time since I flirted. I wasn’t sure I’d remember how, but apparently it was like riding a bicycle. As he slid one of the drinks closer, his hand brushed mine, and I got this thrill. He was looking at me with—I have to say it—lust in his eyes. It was blatant. And I’m thinking, this could be my chance for revenge on Jason. Not to murder him, okay? To sleep with the hot bartender,
