Kiss Me, I'm Irish. Jill Shalvis
son. “Well, our bar profits were sinking fast, son. Two years ago, we were as close to the red as I’ve been in many years. Big-name chains have come into this place in droves, squeezing our business with national advertising.”
“Monroe’s has been through tough times before, Dad,” Deuce argued. “It always survives.”
“The demographics of Rockingham have changed,” Diana interjected. “This isn’t the sleepy vacation town it used to be. Our population has skyrocketed, and the town is full of young, savvy, hip residents.”
“And young, hip residents don’t go to bars anymore?” Deuce asked. “They do in every other city I’ve ever been in.”
An uncomfortable silence was his only answer.
Finally, Seamus asked, “What don’t you like about this, Deuce?”
Deuce leaned forward, flexing the thigh muscle Kendra shouldn’t have been watching. “I came home so I could take over Monroe’s and run it as a first-rate sports bar.”
Kendra closed her eyes and took the punch in her stomach. She knew it. She’d known this the minute he’d walked in the door.
Was Deuce Monroe put on this earth for the sole reason of ruining her life? He didn’t know what he’d done last time—the result of their recklessness was her burden, and, ultimately, her loss. But this time, he could see what it meant to her.
And so could Seamus. She looked up at the man who’d been like a father to her ever since her own parents had distanced themselves physically and emotionally. But Seamus’s gaze remained locked on his son, an expression of astonishment, joy and worry mixed in the lines on his face.
How could she let herself forget for one moment that Seamus loved Deuce above all and everything? No matter how many times Deuce had gone against his wishes, his love for his only child was constant.
“I had no idea, son.”
Kendra just knew what was coming next. There was no way to avoid what was about to be said.
“Dad, the bar’s been in the family for more than seventy years.”
Bingo. There was the bomb she’d been waiting for him to drop. Monroe’s belonged to Monroes. Always had…always will.
Diana leaned forward and snagged Deuce with one of those riveting stares that withered opponents at the negotiating table. “When, exactly, were you planning to tell your father that you intended to carry on that tradition?”
“Today,” he replied without missing a beat. “I wanted to talk in person, not over the phone. My house in Vegas is on the market. I’m planning to move here as soon as we…settle things.”
Seamus took a long, slow breath and pulled Diana back into his side with a gentle tug. “I wish you had told me sooner,” he said to Deuce.
Why? Would that have changed things? Kendra had to bite her lip from shouting out her question. If Seamus had known Deuce wanted to take over the bar, would he have stopped her expansion plans from the beginning? Even when profits were so low they almost had to sell?
“I think Kendra has a say on all this,” Diana finally commented. “She owns forty-nine percent of the business.”
She felt Deuce’s gaze and had no doubt he remembered she’d told him “fifty” percent. Lies. They always come back to bite you.
Kendra shifted again, wishing she weren’t the only one sitting on the floor. “I’m sure you all know how I feel. The expansion is the business I’ve always dreamed of owning.”
“But Monroe’s,” Seamus said quietly, “is my blood.”
And so was Deuce.
Deuce, who hadn’t come home from a road trip when his father had a pacemaker put in. Deuce, who’d refused to go to college on a baseball scholarship as his father had begged him, instead going straight into the minor leagues. Deuce, who had never called her after they’d made love, so therefore had never even found out that she’d gotten pregnant…and lost that child.
“Are you serious about this?” Seamus asked his son. “Are you absolutely committed or are you just screwing around here until some better job offer comes along?”
“I’m dead serious, Dad.”
Well. There went that dream.
“And you aren’t serious very often,” Seamus said with a soft laugh of understatement. “I guess this is something for me to consider.”
“I came home to run the bar,” Deuce said, his baritone voice oddly soft. “I can’t play ball. I don’t want to coach. I’m not interested in TV or business or anything else I can think of. I want to be home, Dad. I want to run Monroe’s. I want to buy it outright, to free you from the day-to-day operations.” He looked at Kendra. “Of course, I didn’t know you’d already had such great help. I’m sure we can work something out. That is,” he looked back at his father, his face sincere, “if you’ll consider me.”
Without a word, Kendra started to scoop up graphs and presentation pages. She’d have to take her idea elsewhere. It was still viable. She’d figure something out.
She’d spent every dime to buy out half of Seamus’s business, but she’d been in worse places before. Worse financial, emotional and physical places. She would survive. She always did.
“What are you doing, Kennie?” Seamus’s sharp tone stopped her cold.
“We don’t need to go through this presentation. Not now, anyway,” she said, wishing like mad that she’d driven her own car so she could escape.
She looked up to see a pained expression in the older man’s eyes. They’d never discussed it, but in that moment, that look in his eyes confirmed what she’d always suspected. He knew who’d put an end to Harvard for her. He knew.
“Not so fast,” Seamus said.
Could that mean he wasn’t sure yet?
“Well, until you decide what to do…” She continued to gather papers, and Deuce reached forward to help, his arm brushing hers. She jerked away from him and cursed the reaction to the most casual touch.
Her mouth went bone-dry, and she realized with a sickening horror that a huge lump had formed in her throat. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to stand.
“I’m going to get something at home,” she managed to say. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Where’s home?” Deuce asked.
“Kendra lives in the guest house on the beach,” Diana Lynn said. “Go ahead, dear. We’ll be here.”
Kendra shot her a grateful look. No doubt she’d picked up the near-tears vibe.
“Why don’t you walk over there with her, Deuce?” Seamus asked. Clearly he had not picked up that same vibe. “I need a few minutes alone with Diana.”
Kendra resisted the urge to spear Seamus with a dirty look. Couldn’t she get a break today? But Deuce stood and gestured toward the door. “Show me the way,” he said.
Kendra stole one more pleading look at Diana, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Go, her eyes said. Let me talk to him.
“All right,” Kendra said. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Take your time,” Seamus responded. “We have some serious thinking to do here.”
But Kendra knew that, for Seamus, there was no thinking where Deuce was involved. The old Irishman ran on pure heart, and nothing filled his heart more than the love for his son. No matter how many errors—on the field or in judgment—Deuce made. He was Seamus’s weakness.
And how