Most of them eventually showed up at the Silver Dollar, where the beer was cold, the Angus burgers prime and the crowd comfortably raucous. Libby hovered on the porch, waiting for Patrick to arrive. The noise and color and atmosphere were worlds away from her native habitat in Manhattan, but she loved it here.
At Maeve’s urging, Libby had given up the New York apartment she could scarcely afford and had come to North Carolina for a new start. Truth be told, her native habitat was feeling more and more distant every day.
Patrick strolled into view, jingling his car keys. “Let’s grab a table,” he said. “I called Dylan and told him we were on our way.”
In no time, they were seated. Libby ordered a Coke...Patrick, an imported ale. Dylan stopped by to say hello. The smiling, very handsome bar owner was the second oldest in the seven-boy Kavanagh lineup. Patrick was the second youngest.
Patrick waved a hand at Libby. “Do you remember Libby Parkhurst? She’s going to fill in for part of Charlise’s maternity leave.”
Dylan shook Libby’s hand. “I do remember you.” He sobered. “I was sorry to hear about your mother. We have an apartment upstairs here at the Silver Dollar. I’d be happy to give it to you rent-free until you’ve had a chance to get back on your feet.”
Libby narrowed her gaze. “Did your mother guilt you into making me an offer?”
Dylan’s neck turned red. “Why would you say that? Can’t a man do something nice without getting an inquisition?”
Libby stared from one brother to the other. Apparently, down-on-her-luck Libby had become the family project. “If you’re positive it won’t be an imposition,” she said slowly. “I’m taking up a very nice guest room at Maeve’s fancy hotel, so I’m sure she’d rather have me here.”
Dylan shook his head. “Maeve is delighted to have you anywhere. Trust me. But she thought you’d like some privacy.”
* * *
Patrick studied Libby’s face as she pondered the implications of living above the bar. It was hardly what she was used to...but then again, he had no idea what her life had been like after the tax guys had swooped in and claimed their due.
Dylan wandered away to deal with a bar-related problem, and on impulse, Patrick asked the question on his mind. “Will you tell me about this past year? Where you’ve been? How things unfolded? Sometimes it helps to talk to a neutral third party.”
Libby sipped her Coke, her gaze on the crowd. Friday nights were always popular at the Silver Dollar. He studied her profile. She had a stubborn chin, but everything else about her was soft and feminine. He would bet money that after one night in the woods, Libby was going to admit she was in over her head.
When she looked at him, those beautiful eyes gave him a jolt—awareness laced with the tiniest bit of sexual interest. He shut down that idea quickly. Maeve would have his head on a platter if he messed with her protégé. And besides, Libby wasn’t his type. Not at all.
Libby’s lips curved in a rueful half smile. “It was frightening and traumatic and definitely educational. Fortunately, my mother had a few stocks and bonds that were in her name only. We managed to find an apartment we could afford, but it was pretty dismal. I wanted to go out and look for work, but she insisted she needed me close. I think losing the buffer of wealth and privilege made her feel painfully vulnerable.”
“What about your father?”
“We had some minimal contact with him. But Mama and I both felt betrayed, so we didn’t go out of our way to visit. I suppose that makes me sound hard and selfish.”
Patrick shook his head. “Not at all. A man’s duty is to care for his family. Your father deceived you, broke your trust and failed to provide for you. It’s understandable that you have issues.”
She stared at him. “You speak from experience, don’t you? My mother told me about what happened years ago.”
Patrick hadn’t expected her to be so quick on the uptake. Now he was rather sorry he’d raised the subject. His own father, Reggie Kavanagh, had been determined to find the lost silver mine that had made the first Kavanaghs in North Carolina extremely wealthy. Reggie had spent months, years...looking, always looking.
His obsession cost him his family.
“I was just a little kid,” Patrick said. “My brother Liam has the worst memories. But yeah...I understand. My mother had every right to be bitter and angry, but somehow she pulled herself together and kept tabs on seven boys.”
Libby paled, her eyes haunted. “I wish I could say the same. But not all of us are as strong as Maeve.”
He cursed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to sound critical of Libby’s mother. “My mother wasn’t left destitute.”
“True. But she’s made of tough stock. Mama was never really a strong person, even in the best of times.”
“I’m sorry, Libby.”
Her lips twisted, her eyes bleak. “We can’t choose our families.”
In an instant he saw that this job idea was laden with emotional peril for Libby Parkhurst. When it became glaringly obvious that she couldn’t handle the physically demanding nature of Charlise’s role as his assistant, Libby would be crushed. Surely it would be better to find that out sooner than later. Then she could move on and look for employment more suited to her skill set. Libby was smart and organized and intuitive.
There was a place for her out there somewhere. Just not at Silver Reflections.
He drummed his fingers on the table. “I looked at the weather forecast. We’re due to have a warm spell in a couple of days.”
“I saw that, too. Maeve says you almost always get an early taste of spring here in the mountains, even if it doesn’t last long.”
“She’s right. And in light of that, why don’t you and I go ahead and take an overnight trip, so I can show you what’s involved.”
Libby went from wistful to deer in the headlights. “You mean now?”
“Yes. We could head out Monday morning and be back Tuesday afternoon.” Part of him felt guilty for pushing her, but they had to get past this hurdle so she could see the truth.
He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “I don’t have any outdoor gear.”
“Mom can cover you there. And my sisters-in-law can loan you some stuff, too. No sense in buying anything now.”
“Because you think I’ll fail.”
She stared him down, but he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. “I think there is a good chance you’ll discover that working for me isn’t what you really want.”
“You’ve made up your mind already, haven’t you?” He was surprised to see that she had a temper.
“No.” Was he being entirely honest? “I promised you a trial run. I’ve merely moved up the timetable, thanks to the weather.”
Libby’s
