Читать книгу The Devaney Brothers: Ryan and Sean: Ryan's Place - Sherryl Woods, Sherryl Woods - Страница 13

4

Ryan was still reeling from the fact that Rosita Gomez, the cook who barely spoke English and knew nothing about Irish food, also happened to be seven months’ pregnant. Father Francis had delicately neglected to mention that fact to Ryan when he’d been touting her for a job at the pub. Ryan could hardly wait to see Rory’s face when he found out. Thankfully, he’d been able to keep the two of them apart at the shelter yesterday. Rory had been too busy to spend much time in the dining room.

But it wouldn’t be long now. Rosita and her husband were due at the pub at two to fill out the necessary paperwork. When Ryan heard the tap on his office door, he assumed it was his two new employees. Instead, he found himself staring at Maggie O’Brien. A sigh escaped before he could stop it.

“You again,” he murmured.

“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” she said.

Ryan desperately wanted to think of an excuse to run her off, but none occurred to him.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, trying to hide his reluctance. “I have a few minutes before my next appointment. Come on in. What brings you into Boston today?”

She held up an armload of shopping bags. “The sales,” she said. “Surely you know this is one of the biggest shopping days of the year. Black Friday, when businesses expect to go from red ink to black for the year.”

“I believe I have read that somewhere,” Ryan said dryly. “An ad or two, maybe? Every TV newscast since last week?”

She laughed. “Probably so.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here. Don’t tell me you happened to have another flat outside my pub because your car’s overloaded.”

“Nope. I have four brand-new tires, thanks to my brother. Matt took the car in this morning, muttering the whole time about how irresponsible I was to let the tires get into such sorry shape in the first place. It made him feel very male and very superior, so I suppose there was a blessing to be had.”

“Well—” Ryan began.

“Don’t you start. Not when I’ve coming bearing gifts.”

Ryan’s gaze narrowed. “Gifts?”

She frowned at him. “Not for you. While my sisters and I were at the sales, we saw a few things we thought Rosita might be able to use for herself and the baby. That is who you’re expecting this afternoon, right? I spoke to her briefly after you and I talked yesterday. I know she wasn’t able to bring much with her to the shelter. Wait till you see.” She poked around in the shopping bags and started pulling out baby clothes, an expression of pure delight on her face. “Aren’t these the cutest things you’ve ever seen? Look at this.” She held up a tiny little knit cap in pale yellow. “And this.” She retrieved an outfit with ducks embroidered across the front.

When she had his entire desk covered with baby clothes, she sat back. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re amazing,” Ryan blurted, then regretted it when he saw the smile that spread across her face. “I meant that Rosita is going to amazed. Why did you do it? You must have spent a fortune.”

“Everything was on sale,” she reminded him. “And we couldn’t resist.” She held up another huge bag. “There are a few maternity outfits in here for Rosita. These are new, but I have another bag in the car of Colleen’s old maternity clothes. She swears she will never need them again, but if you ask me Daniel will talk her into at least two more kids. He wants a huge family. He was an only child.”

Ryan’s head was spinning. “Colleen is the sister who was ogling me in the kitchen?”

Maggie nodded.

“And Daniel is...?”

“Her husband.”

“Was he at the shelter yesterday?”

“He was there, along with my father and both of my brothers, plus my youngest sister, Katie. My other sister lives too far away to get home for Thanksgiving, but they’ll be here for Christmas. You can’t imagine the chaos.”

Oddly enough, he could. After the twins were born, there had been five children in the Devaney house for two Christmases. Somehow his parents had always seen to it that there were gifts under the tree, even if they were secondhand toys from the thrift shop in the neighborhood. From the moment he and his brothers had crept downstairs to see if Santa had come, the house had been filled with noise and laughter.

At least that’s the way it had been for a few brief years. Then they’d all been separated, and after that, Christmas had been one more day to be endured, worse than all the other days, because he’d wondered where his brothers were and if they were happier than he was. As he’d drifted from foster home to foster home, always feeling like an outsider, he’d prayed they were.

“Ryan?” Maggie asked softly, her gaze filled with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said tightly. “Everything’s fine. Why don’t you stick around and give these things to Rosita? She should be here any minute.”

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t want to embarrass her.”

“She’ll want to thank you, I’m sure.”

“Another time. I should go before she gets here,” she insisted, already heading for the door.

“Wait. Didn’t you say something about having some clothes for Rosita in the car? I’ll walk you out,” Ryan said, surprised that he wasn’t quite ready to see the last of her. She was pushy and intrusive. In fact, she promised to make a nuisance of herself. But she was also warm and generous, a real ray of sunshine. Like a cat seeking warmth on a windowsill he felt himself drawn to her, despite all of his deep-seated reservations about getting involved with anyone.

As he watched her walk to her car, he realized that one of these days he was going to have to decide which mattered more—protecting himself from her prying or accepting her into his heart.

* * *

“You weren’t in there long,” Colleen commented, after Maggie had retrieved the bag of used maternity clothes, given them to Ryan and said goodbye. She had noticed that he’d kept a careful distance between himself and the car once he’d realized that her sister was waiting for her.

“Long enough,” Maggie said, satisfied with herself. The meeting had gone precisely the way she’d hoped it would. She had stayed just long enough to remind Ryan that she intended to be a part of his life—at least for the immediate future—but had left before he’d grown weary of her. And with his reluctance so apparent, she hadn’t pressed him to say hello to Colleen. Contact with her family seemed to disturb him, either because he was fearful of getting too involved or because seeing them brought back too many painful memories of the family he’d lost.

“What did he think of all the baby things?” Colleen asked.

“I think he was dumbfounded.”

“Clever of you to find a way to plant the notion of babies in his head. Now he won’t be able to look at you without thinking about having a baby of his own.”

“Colleen, that is not what this was about,” Maggie protested. “Those baby clothes were for Rosita.”

Colleen grinned. “But isn’t it nice that they served your purposes, as well?”

“I am not scheming to plant ideas in Ryan’s head,” Maggie insisted.

“Oh, really?”

“Really!”

“Well, intended or not, I’m sure it did the trick. I imagine he’s thinking of you in a whole new way now.”

“Pregnant?” Maggie asked skeptically. “I doubt that. And don’t you think it’s a giant leap, anyway? He hasn’t even so much as asked me out on a date.”

“But you want him to,” Colleen guessed.

Maggie thought of the way she felt every time

Ryan’s blue-eyed gaze settled on her. “Yes, I want him to. He’s a very mysterious, complicated man, and you know how I enjoy unraveling a puzzle.”

“And if he doesn’t ask you out?”

Maggie shrugged. “He owns a pub. I can pretty much see him whenever I want to.”

Colleen seemed surprised by her response. “You would do that? You’d just hang around the pub until he notices you?”

“I might. It’s a great place. You should have come in with me just now. Even at this hour the jukebox was playing and there were groups of people laughing.”

“I figured three would be a crowd.”

“Well, if you had come in, you’d know what I’m talking about. I felt right at home there the second I walked in the other night. It’s not like some sleazy bar. It’s just the way Mom and Dad have always described the pubs in Ireland.”

“I can’t wait to hear what Mom and Dad are going to have to say about this. You know how Dad always warned us to steer clear of bars.”

“You’ll never meet the man of your dreams in a bar,” they both said in a chorus.

Maggie laughed. “How could I forget? But how can they object with Father Francis sitting right there most evenings? Besides, didn’t you pay attention to what I said not five seconds ago? This is a pub, not a bar—there’s a difference.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I sit in while you try explaining that to Dad,” Colleen said.

“Dad’s already well aware of the difference, so I won’t even try explaining it to him. Besides, I’ve always believed in being honest with Mom and Dad about what I’m doing, and expecting them to trust my judgment. They usually do.”

“So when are you going back? Tonight?”

Maggie shook her head. “Even I know that’s too soon. I thought I’d give Ryan a day or two to wonder what’s happened to me. I’m thinking I’ll go back the first of the week. Want to come along for a girls’ night out?”

“Something tells me Daniel would object to baby-sitting so I could go hang out with you while you try to pick up a man. If you need a chaperone, take Katie.”

Maggie thought of the way her sister had practically swooned at the sight of Ryan. “Never mind.”

Colleen shot a knowing look at her. “She’s your sister. She would never try to steal your guy.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about. Have you taken a good look at our baby sister? She’s gorgeous, something she doesn’t even realize.”

“And you think Ryan might prefer her?” Colleen asked. “Come on, Mags. He never even gave her a second glance yesterday.”

Maggie regarded her sister with surprise. “He didn’t?”

“Sweetie, he never took his eyes off you. Didn’t you know that?”

Maggie shook her head. “I had no idea. I thought maybe I was fighting an uphill battle.”

“You may be,” Colleen warned. “He doesn’t strike me as someone who wants to fall in love. He may not even believe in it.”

“That’s what Father Francis said, as a matter of fact,” Maggie admitted.

“Well then, at least you know what you’re up against. But a powerful attraction has a way of making a man take risks he never intended. It’s all a matter of patience and persistence.”

“I was blessed with one—” she thought of her total lack of patience “—but definitely not the other.”

“Then Ryan promises to be good for you in more ways than one, doesn’t he? Just keep reminding yourself—if he’s the one, then he’s worth waiting for.”

“You might have to do the reminding,” Maggie said.

Her sister chuckled. “Oh, sweetie, that will be my pleasure.”

* * *

Throughout what seemed like the longest weekend on record, Ryan’s gaze kept drifting toward the door each time it opened. He kept expecting—hoping—to see Maggie coming in with each blast of icy air. He was so obvious that there was little chance that Father Francis or Rory hadn’t taken note of him doing it, but they’d remained oddly silent.

Monday the pub was closed. That was the day Ryan usually spent running errands and catching up on paperwork, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate today. He finally gave up in disgust around four-thirty and headed out to take a brisk walk to clear his head. Maybe that would push images of Maggie out of it.

Instead, when he opened the door, he bumped straight into her. He stood there staring like an awkward teenager. “Maggie, what are you doing here?”

She swallowed hard and backed up a step. “I came by for a cup of coffee or two. I’m freezing.”

“The bar’s closed today, but I’d be happy to fix you one,” Ryan said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Closed?” she asked blankly.

He grinned. “As in not open for business,” he explained patiently. He pointed toward the carved wooden sign posted by the door, where it plainly stated that the pub was closed on Mondays.

“Oh,” she said, her cheeks flaming. “I never even looked at the sign. I just assumed, I guess, that you were open every day, but of course you’d need time off. I’ll come back another time.” She whirled around.

“Maggie?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were freezing.”

She faced him with a defiant lift of her chin. “It’s nothing. I’ll just turn up the car heater.”

He should let her go. He certainly shouldn’t be inviting her in when there was no one around to serve as a buffer, no other customers needing his attention. Still, he found himself saying, “I wouldn’t mind having some coffee myself. I was going for a walk to clear the cobwebs out of my head, but coffee will accomplish the same thing.” Never mind that he’d already drunk gallons of it and Maggie was the only thought cluttering his brain.

She beamed at him. “Well, if you’re sure.”

Ryan wasn’t sure of anything, not when she looked at him like that. “Come on in,” he said, “before it’s as cold inside as out.”

When she was in, he closed the door and flipped the lock, then retreated behind the bar. He figured it would give him the illusion of safety, maybe keep him from reaching for her and kissing her until her cheeks flamed pink from something other than the chilly air.

When he’d fixed a fresh pot of coffee and poured two cups, he handed one to her, then took a sip of his own.

“Do you need to stay behind the bar?” she asked. “Can’t you come out here and sit next to me? Or maybe we could go to one of the booths?”

“I’m fine here,” he said. “This is where I’m used to being.”

“And we definitely wouldn’t want to drag you out of your comfort zone,” she said, her eyes sparkling with undisguised amusement.

He scowled at that. “There are reasons why people have comfort zones,” he said. “Why mess with them?”

“It’s called living,” she pointed out. She patted the bar stool next to her. “Come on, Ryan. Take a risk. We’ll save the cozy booth for another day.”

He sighed and gave in to the inevitable. He walked around the bar, but when he sat, he carefully left one stool between them. She bit back a grin.

“Oh, well, that’s progress anyway,” she teased. “No need to rush things.”

“Maggie, why are you here? It’s not as if this is the only place in town where you can get a coffee.”

“But it’s the only place where I know the owner,” she said. “By the way, since you are the owner and it’s your day off, what are you doing here?”

“Catching up on this and that,” he said evasively.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a day off to me. Have you ever heard of taking a real break?”

“To do what?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

She regarded him with blatant pity. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to catch up on all the things I don’t get to do when this place is busy,” he said defensively. “Paperwork, bookkeeping, checking supplies.”

Maggie shook her head. “Don’t you have a hobby?”

“No.”

“Something you enjoy doing to relax?” she persisted.

Uncomplicated sex relaxed him, but Ryan seriously doubted she wanted to hear about that. And today sex had been the last thing on his mind. Okay, not exactly true, he mentally corrected. Sex with Maggie had been very much on his mind, which he’d concluded was a really, really bad idea.

Even so, he couldn’t quite keep himself from giving her a blatant once-over that had her blushing.

“Not that,” she said, evidently grasping his meaning with no trouble at all.

“Too bad,” he teased. “I do find that relaxes me quite a bit.”

Her gaze locked with his. “Perhaps another time,” she said in a deliberately prim little voice.

Ryan choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. “What did you say?” When she started to reply, he cut her off. “Never mind. Let’s not go there.”

Now it was her turn to regard him with a knowing look. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Maggie, what do you want from me?” He couldn’t seem to prevent the helpless, bewildered note in his voice.

Her expression faltered at the direct question. “Honestly?”

He nodded.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she replied, as if she found the uncertainty as disconcerting as he did.

“Then you’re playing a risky game,” he warned.

“I know,” she agreed, meeting his gaze. “But I can’t seem to stop myself. I keep finding myself drawn here. There’s something about this place, about you...” Her voice faltered and she shrugged. “I can’t explain it.”

Gazes locked, they both fell silent. Finally Maggie sighed and looked away.

“Can I ask you something?” she said eventually, still not meeting his gaze.

“Sure.”

“Father Francis told me something. He said that you don’t believe in love.”

“Father Francis has a big mouth, but he’s right. I don’t,” Ryan said grimly.

“Why?”

Rather than answering, he said, “I gather you do believe in it. Why?”

“Because I see it every single day. I see it between my parents. I’ve felt their love since the day I was born. I see it with my brothers and their wives, with Colleen and her husband. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for each other or for their families.”

Ryan listened, trying to put his skepticism aside. He tried to imagine being surrounded by such examples. He couldn’t. His own experience had been the exact opposite. There’d been a time when he’d thought his parents loved him and his brothers, but then they’d vanished without a trace. He’d been forced to question whether their love had ever been real.

“Have you experienced it yourself?” he asked.

“No, but I know it exists because I can feel it just by walking into a room with my family. It’s in their laughter, in the way they look at each other, in the way they touch each other. How can you dismiss that when it’s right in front of you?”

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s in front of you. I’ve never seen it.”

Because he didn’t want to get into a long, drawn-out argument over the existence of love, he deliberately stood up. “I’d better finish running those errands now.”

Maggie looked as if she might argue, but then she put down her cup and picked up her coat. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem.” He jammed his hands in his pockets as he followed her to the door.

She opened the door, then hesitated. This time her gaze clashed with his in an obvious dare. “I’ll keep coming back, you know.”

An odd sense of relief stole through Ryan at her words—part warning, part promise.

“Unless you tell me to stay away,” she challenged, her gaze steady.

“Whatever,” he murmured as if the decision were of no consequence.

Her lips curved up. “I’ll take that as an invitation.”

Before he realized her intention, she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his cheek.

“See you,” she said cheerfully, then disappeared down the block before he could gather his thoughts.

Ryan stared into the shadows of dusk, hoping for one last glimpse, but she was gone.

“That was a touching scene,” Rory said, stepping out of the shadows.

“Have you been reduced to spying to get your kicks?” Ryan asked irritably.

“Hardly. I just stopped by to see if you’d like a blind date for tonight. My date has a friend. I’ve met her. She doesn’t hold a candle to your Maggie, but I imagine she could provide a much-needed distraction.”

“I don’t think so,” Ryan said. He doubted if both Julia Roberts and Catherine Zeta-Jones rolled into one could distract him tonight.

Rory grinned at him. “Which says it all, if you ask my opinion.”

“Which I did not,” Ryan said.

“Well, I’m offering it, anyway. A woman like Maggie comes along once in a man’s life, if he’s lucky. Don’t be an idiot and let her get away.”

“I don’t even know her,” Ryan argued. “Neither do you. So let’s not make too much of this.”

“Are you saying the woman doesn’t tie you in knots?”

Ryan frowned at the question. “Whether she does or she doesn’t is no concern of yours.”

“In other words, yes,” Rory interpreted. “So, get to know her. Find out if there’s anything more to these feelings. What’s the harm?”

Harm? Ryan thought. He could get what was left of his heart broken, that was the harm. Maggie’s words came back to him then.

It’s called living.

Ryan tried to balance the promise of those words against the reality of the heartbreak he’d suffered years ago and vowed never to risk again. Bottom line? There was nothing wrong with his life just the way it was. It was safe. Comfortable. There were no significant bumps, no nasty surprises.

“See you,” he said to Rory. “I’ve got things to do.”

Rory’s expression brightened. “You going after her?”

“Nope.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Better things to do.”

“What could be better than an evening with a beautiful woman?”

“A couple of games of racquetball and an ice-cold beer,” Ryan retorted.

Rory laughed. “That’s called sublimation, my friend.”

“Call it whatever you want to. It’s my idea of a great way to spend a few hours.”

“That’s only because you haven’t been on a real date with a woman who might actually matter to you in all the time I’ve known you,” Rory said.

Ryan couldn’t deny the accusation. “You live your life. Let me live mine.”

“That’s the problem, Ryan, me lad. What you’re doing’s not living, not by any man’s definition.”

Nor by Maggie’s, Ryan was forced to admit. But neither her opinion nor Rory’s mattered. His was the only one that counted, and he was perfectly content with his life.

At least he had been till a few days ago, when Maggie O’Brien had blown into the pub on a gust of wind and made it her mission to shatter his serenity. From what he could tell, she was doing a darn fine job of it, too.