Sherryl Woods – The Devaney Brothers: Ryan and Sean: Ryan's Place (страница 7)

“So this is purely selfish on your part,” he said, taking a step closer to the dangerous fire in her eyes. There was something about her—an exuberance, a warmth—that made him want to take risks he normally avoided.

“It is,” she said, her gaze unflinching.

“Maggie, I did you a small favor. You don’t owe me anything. Besides, I have plans for tomorrow, and the day starts early. I really do need to be getting back.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes then. “You have plans?”

He was vaguely insulted by her obvious shock. “I’m not totally hopeless and alone.”

She blinked and backed up a step. “Yes, of course. I should have realized,” she said, clearly embarrassed.

Ryan should have let her go on thinking that those plans involved another woman, which was clearly the conclusion she’d reached. That would have been the smart, safe way to go. Instead, he found himself explaining.

“I’m taking food to the homeless shelter run by St. Mary’s. Everything has to be set up by noon, which means an early start. And, as we discussed in the car, the pub opens at four for the regulars who don’t have anyplace else to go. Not to mention that tonight’s paperwork didn’t get done, nor were the receipts counted.”

She nodded and something that might have been relief flashed across her face. “What a wonderful thing to do,” she said, apparently seizing on the planned meal for the homeless. “Can you use some help at the shelter?”

Help was always in short supply, but Ryan hesitated. It would be better to stop things here and now with this woman who had the determination of a pit bull and who seemed eager and able to slip past all his defenses.

“Of course you can,” she said, without waiting for his reply. “We’ll be at the shelter by ten.”

“‘We’?”

“My family, except for Mom, of course. She’ll need to stay here with that humongous bird, but everyone else will want to pitch in. It works out perfectly. I’ll have one of my brothers bring along a spare for my car, too.”

Ryan searched desperately for a subtle way to change her mind. “Shouldn’t your family be pitching in around here?”

“Mom refuses to let anyone else into the kitchen. She says we just get in the way. Besides, I brought a lot of food tonight that only needs to go in the oven. Everyone else will bring dishes, too. She really has only the turkey to contend with.” Maggie regarded him intently. “Don’t even think of turning me down. I owe you.”

“You don’t,” he repeated, even though he knew he was wasting his breath.

Besides, one part of him—a very big part—was suddenly looking forward to Thanksgiving in a way that he hadn’t since he was eight years old. That was the last holiday his family had spent together. By Christmas that year, he’d been with a foster family, and he’d had no idea at all where his parents or his brothers were.

And nothing in his life had been the same since.

3

“Late night last night?” Rory inquired as he and Ryan loaded food into a van to take it to the homeless shelter. “You look a wee bit under the weather.”

Ryan scowled at his cook’s apparent amusement. “I did a favor for Father Francis. It kept me out until after 3:00 a.m.”

“And did this favor happen to involve a lovely redheaded lass?”

Ryan gave him a sour look.

“I thought so. Why is it that Father Francis never thinks of me when a beauty like that comes along?” Rory lamented.

“Perhaps because he’s well aware of your tendency to break the heart of any woman you go out with,” Ryan told him. “You’ve earned a bit of a reputation in your time among us, Rory, me lad.”

“Undeserved, every word of it,” Rory insisted.

“Then why do I have a steady stream of women at the bar crying into their beers over you?”

“I can’t help it if I’m a babe magnet,” the cook said with a perfectly straight face.

The irony was that despite his round shape and fiery temperament, forty-year-old Rory attracted more than his share of women. Ryan suspected it had something to do with his clever way with words and his genuine appreciation of the fair sex. Rory’s problem was that he appreciated a few too many females at one time. The drama of the breakups frequently spilled from the kitchen into the pub. Oddly enough, even after the blowups, the women kept coming around. Rory treated each and every one of them with the same cheerful affection.

“I can hardly wait for you to fall head-over-heels in love,” Ryan told him. “I truly hope the woman makes you jump through hoops, so I can sit on the sidelines and enjoy the entertainment.”

“I feel the same where you’re concerned,” Rory responded. He regarded Ryan with a speculative look. “So, has this redheaded angel of Father Francis’s well and truly caught your eye? Or am I free to pursue her next time she stops in?”

“Stay away from Maggie,” Ryan retorted, unable to keep a fiercely possessive note out of his voice. He swore to himself that he was only thinking of Maggie’s heart, not his own.

Rory grinned. “So, that’s the way of it? Father Francis will be pleased to know that his clever machinations have worked at last. Can it be that our Ryan has finally found a woman who can hold his interest beyond a one-night stand?”

Ryan scowled at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I barely know the woman.”

“Has there ever been an Irishman born who doesn’t believe that a lightning bolt can strike at any time? Love doesn’t always require years of nurturing to blossom, you know.”

“Thanks for the unsolicited lesson,” Ryan said dryly.

“I have much more wisdom I could impart,” Rory claimed cheerfully. “But why should I waste it on a man who’s determined to go through life alone?”

“You know, if you don’t learn to watch your tongue, I could fire you.”

“But you won’t,” Rory said confidently. “Who would cook your authentic Irish cuisine?”

“Maybe I’ll change the menu,” Ryan said, thinking of the newest addition to his staff.

“Not bloody likely,” Rory said.

“I don’t know. I’ve got someone coming by tomorrow. Father Francis thinks she’ll do rather well.”

Rory frowned. “Another cook?”

“Yes.”

“And would this be the angelic Maggie, by any chance?” Rory inquired hopefully.

“Absolutely not.”

“Is she from Ireland, at least?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go. How good can she be?”

“I’ve heard only raves,” Ryan said honestly. “She’s supposed to be excellent, so of course I hired her sight unseen.”

“She’s not coming for an interview? You’ve already hired a woman you’ve never even met for my kitchen?” Rory demanded, clearly horrified. “I can’t have some stranger—and a woman at that—underfoot all day.”

“Why not? Will she be a distraction? Surely you can rise above your need to make a play for anything wearing skirts, especially since this one’s married. And just in case you’re tempted, you should know that her husband will be working in front.” He gave Rory a steady look. “I don’t think it will be a problem, do you? There are some lines not even you will cross.”

Rory groaned. “These are more of Father Francis’s strays, aren’t they? I suppose we will find them at the shelter today, am I right?”

Ryan saw little point in denying it. He nodded. He considered telling Rory the rest, that his new helper barely spoke English and prepared only Mexican dishes, but decided his friend had had enough of a shock for the moment. Instead, he simply reminded him that there was a replacement waiting in the wings. “So, let that be a warning to keep a civil tongue in your head. And when you meet her today, be nice.”

“When am I not kind to everyone who works at the pub?” Rory demanded indignantly.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “You don’t want me to answer that, do you?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be nice.” He regarded Ryan curiously. “Are you going to be seeing Maggie again?”

“She says she’s going to bring her family to help out at the shelter today,” he admitted ruefully.

“Well now, isn’t that splendid? Father Francis will have yet another blessing to count on Thanksgiving.”

“Go to hell, Rory.”

To Ryan’s disgust, the big man merely laughed. As far as Ryan could see, this was not a laughing matter. He was apparently surrounded by matchmakers who were going to take a great deal of delight in seeing him squirm. And they’d both handpicked Maggie for the task of accomplishing it, quite possibly because they’d both seen what he hadn’t been willing to admit—that he was attracted to her.

* * *

The noise level in the O’Brien dining room was at an all-time high, with squealing toddlers scrambling for Maggie’s attention and her brothers fighting for the biggest share of her mother’s pancakes. It was all music to her ears, even if she couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise.

When her third attempt to interrupt the nonstop bickering fell on deaf ears, Maggie sent a beseeching look toward her mother.

“Enough!” Nell O’Brien said without even raising her voice to be heard above the din. It was her quiet, emphatic tone that caused even the littlest grandchild to fall silent. The skill had to be something she’d acquired in the classroom to control unruly college students. Clearly satisfied by the effect, she said mildly, “I think Maggie has something she’d like to say.”