Sherryl Woods – The Devaney Brothers: Ryan and Sean: Ryan's Place (страница 17)

Maggie laughed. “The bar will do.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Hope you don’t mind if I go back in the kitchen. I want to be out of the line of fire when he gets back. Can I get you a drink or something before I go?”

“No, thanks. Besides, I worked the bar last night. If I get thirsty, I can fix something.”

A look of delight split his round face. “Taking over here, are you? That’s the girl. Poor Ryan’s head must be spinning.”

She grinned at that. “I certainly hope so.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. You need any advice from a man who knows him well, you come to me. There’s little about Ryan Devaney that I don’t know. He’s the best friend a man could have. And something tells me if a woman can win his heart, he’ll be the best husband, as well. The trick lies in the winning. You won’t do it overnight.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Maggie said, finding it interesting that Rory’s impression so closely mirrored Father Francis’s.

While she waited for Ryan to arrive, she set up the computer and printer, then opened her business finance program. She began filling in all the inventory categories she could think of for a pub. Satisfied that she’d hit on most of them, she looked up to find Ryan standing over her, a scowl on his face.

“What’s this?” he inquired, as if she’d brought a dangerous foreign object into his pub.

“A free demonstration,” she said cheerfully. “Come see.”

“I don’t have the time. I’ve a business to run. And I’m getting a late start as it is.”

“What I’m suggesting would make it easier,” she said.

“Can it serve drinks?”

She frowned at the mocking question. “No, but—”

“Then I’m not interested,” he said flatly. He reached for an apron and tied it around his waist, then vanished to the far end of the bar, leaving her to stare after him.

“Don’t mind Ryan,” Father Francis advised, appearing out of nowhere and sliding onto the stool next to her. “He’ll come around. After a childhood that was filled with the unexpected, he works hard to keep things steady and familiar, now that he’s grown. It takes him a while to warm up to new people and even longer to listen to new ideas.”

“And I’m pushing at the boundaries of his comfort zone,” Maggie assessed thoughtfully, considering his reaction from a fresh perspective. “Maybe I should back off.”

“Now, why would you be wanting to do such a thing?” Father Francis demanded. “Change is what keeps us all alive. Ryan does too little of it.”

“If you’re so fond of change, why don’t you invite her over to the church to meddle in your business?” Ryan inquired sourly as he plunked an Irish coffee down in front of the priest. “I imagine you have ancient systems there that could use an overhaul.”

“Perhaps I will,” Father Francis said readily. “In fact, I think I’ll see if we have the budget for it. Would you be interested, Maggie?”

Maggie was more interested in the fact that Ryan’s expression turned even darker at the priest’s acceptance of his challenge. Still, she turned to Father Francis. “I’d be happy to take a look and see if I have any suggestions,” she told him. “The consultation’s on the house. After that, we’ll see if there’s anything I can contribute, and discuss terms.”

“Well, isn’t that just perfect?” Ryan snapped, retreating to the opposite end of the bar, where he slammed a few mugs around so hard, it was amazing that they didn’t shatter.

Maggie sighed. “I’d better talk to him. I owe him an apology for pushing so hard.”

“No, child,” Father Francis said at once. “He’s the one who needs to apologize. Give him a minute. He’ll come around on his own. He knows when he’s being unreasonable, and he’s generally honest enough to admit it.”

Maggie sat back down, but the wait seemed interminable. Finally, though, Ryan approached the two of them with a look of remorse on his face. “Okay, I was out of line.” He frowned at the priest. “But you were deliberately pushing my buttons, and you know it.”

“Do I now?” Father Francis said, his expression innocent.

“Of course you do. You take great pleasure in it, which makes me wonder why I put up with you.” He turned to Maggie. “As for you, I truly am sorry. I know you were trying to be helpful. It’s just that I don’t need that kind of help. I’ve been running this place for a while now. I know how to do it. It might not be the most efficient operation, but it works for me.”

“And there couldn’t possibly be a better way?” she challenged.

He grinned. “There could be, but I’m satisfied with things as they are. When I’m not, I’ll let you know.”

Maggie knew a brick wall when she slammed into one. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

“When it comes to this particular topic, you could be in for a long wait,” he warned.

“I have the time,” she told him.

“And why is that? Shouldn’t you be starting that search for a new job?”

“Not just yet. I’m taking the next few weeks to think things through and decide what I want to do. I have an MBA that’s going to waste.”

He frowned. “Just so you don’t get it into your head that this is the place to put it to use,” he said. “You’re overqualified.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll back off,” she said, then murmured under her breath, “for now.”

He scowled. “I heard that.”

Maggie beamed at him. “Just a fair warning,” she said cheerfully as she slid off her bar stool.

“You leaving?” he asked.

She grinned at the faint disappointment in his tone. “You should be so lucky. Actually, I’m getting an apron. In case you haven’t noticed, the place is packed, and Maureen and Juan have their hands full again.”

Ryan shook his head. “A lot of people think a vacation is best spent on a beach in the Caribbean this time of year, not waiting tables in a pub.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, grabbing an order pad and heading for a table of couples across the room.

“Bless you,” Maureen said as she passed Maggie. “I don’t know where everyone came from tonight, but they’re all tired and cranky and starving.”

“More holiday shopping,” Maggie suggested. “And it’s only going to get worse when desperation sets in.”

“Now there’s a cheerful prospect,” Maureen said, lifting her gaze heavenward. “Saints protect us from the truly desperate.”

Maggie took orders from the three couples, along with a request for the band that was just setting up. She left that and a tip with the lead guitarist, then took the dinner order in to Rory.

The cook beamed when he saw her. “You’re still in one piece, I see. Tell me, did you win Ryan over to your way of thinking?”

“Hardly. The man’s head is like a rock.”

“Aye, that it is. I’ve been wanting to experiment a bit with the menu, but all of my pleas have fallen on deaf ears,” he said, sounding resigned.

“Speaking of changes to the menu, where’s Rosita and her recipe for enchiladas?” Maggie asked.

“I sent her home,” Rory said.

Maggie regarded him indignantly. “Just like that? She needs the job.”

He frowned at her. “Did I say anything about firing her? Her ankles were swelling. And don’t you be telling Ryan, either. There’s no need for him to dock her pay. As you said yourself, she needs every bit of it to prepare for the baby.”

Relieved, Maggie grinned at him. “Why, Rory, I believe the reports of your temper have been greatly exaggerated. You’re a softie.”

“Only when it comes to mothers-to-be, so don’t be getting any ideas about testing my patience,” he said. “I expect the waitstaff around here to deliver my meals to the tables while they’re still hot. Maureen’s order’s ready. You can take it.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, loading her tray with the steaming plates and heading for the door.

For the rest of the evening, there was little time for idle chitchat with anyone. As she rushed from table to table, Maggie felt Ryan’s steady gaze following her. Just before midnight he nabbed her arm and dragged her to a stool at the end of the bar.

“Sit. Maureen and Juan can handle things from here on out. Have you eaten a bite all evening?” he asked.

“No time,” she said, sighing as she kicked off her shoes.

He uttered a sound of disgust and headed for the kitchen. He came back with a plump ham and cheese sandwich and a bowl of Rory’s thick potato soup.

“I can’t eat at this hour,” she protested.

“You can and you will,” he said. “I will not be responsible for sending you home half-starved. I won’t risk Nell and Garrett’s wrath coming down on my head.”

Maggie grinned at him. “I’m a grown woman. I take responsibility for my own actions.”

“Do they know that? Aren’t these the very same parents who worry frantically if you’re so much as a few minutes late? Didn’t you tell me that yourself on the first night you came through my doors?”

“At least there’s one thing I’ve said that you listened to,” Maggie retorted.