Cover

Dedication

For my tribe of friends. My ride or dies. You know who you are.

Prologue

~Izzy~

What in the hell am I doing?

The pastor we booked fourteen months ago speaks, but I’m not listening. I stare up at the man I’m in the process of marrying, hoping to feel just a glimmer of the love and excitement I felt when he proposed last year on Valentine’s Day. I want to feel the joy.

But his blue eyes are cold, his lips curled into a smirk, replacing the sweet smiles he once gave me—back when I fell in love with him.

He’s the appropriate man. His credentials look great on paper. My father loves him to death. Our families have been close for as long as I can remember.

But I feel…nothing.

“Izzy,” he whispers, squeezing my hands painfully to get my attention.

“What? Oh.” I swallow and look at the pastor. “Can you please repeat that?”

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I glance at my parents and then back up at the man before me and know in my heart of hearts what the answer is.

What it’s been for a long, long time.

“No.” I shake my head and pull my hands away as Troy’s face scrunches up in a furious scowl. “No, this isn’t what I want at all.”

I turn to the audience. My father stands, his face full of confusion.

“I’m sorry. I’ll call later.”

And with that, I take off down the aisle and into the bridal suite so I can grab my purse and phone. Then, I hurry to my little convertible waiting outside, the one covered in balloons and a JUST MARRIED sign on the back.

As I pull out of the church parking lot, I see Troy walking out the door, his hands in his pockets, his mouth set.

He’s not heartbroken.

He’s embarrassed.

And I just dodged a proverbial bullet.

Chapter 1

~Keegan~

“You’re on my last bleeding nerve, Mary Margaret.” I toss the white towel onto the bar and glare at my youngest sister.

“Back at you.” She rolls her eyes as she flips her red hair over her shoulder and stomps away to the kitchen, most likely to bitch about me to our brother, Shawn, and his lovely new wife, Lexi.

Running a family business is at once satisfying and a pain in my ass.

I bought O’Callaghan’s Pub from my da about five years ago when he told me that he and Ma wanted to retire and move back to Ireland. The pub is my passion, so the decision was a quick and easy one. And, I can admit, having my siblings around to help is one of the reasons I love it so much.

We’re a big family. Loud and opinionated, but loving and ready to jump in at a moment’s notice if any of us needs the other.

The O’Callaghans are a tight clan, and that’s the truth.

Maggie is the baby of the family and one of my best friends. She works for me full time as a waitress and a fill-in cook when the need arises.

But she’s been in a foul mood all day, which isn’t like her. Though when I asked what had her panties in a wad, she snarled and snapped at me like an angry badger.

I hear a dish break in the kitchen, and then Maggie stomps out of the swinging door, looking just as happy as when she went in there moments ago.

Which is to say, not happy at all.

“Maggie.” I try a different tactic, calming my voice as I open my arms. “Come here, darling.”

She looks as if she might flip me the bird, but then her shoulders slump, and she walks into my embrace, hugging me back.

“What’s bothering you today, love?”

“Men suck.”

Given that I’m her brother, and she doesn’t see me as a man, I don’t take offense.

“Man trouble, is it, then?”

“I’m being silly. And I’m sorry for calling you a horse’s ass.”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, in my head, I did.” She pulls back with a smile. “And I broke a plate in the kitchen. You can take it out of my pay.”

“We’ll let this one pass,” I reply, relieved to see that her feathers are somewhat smoothed for now. I don’t like seeing either of my sisters out of sorts. “If you need to talk, I have two ears that work just fine.”

“Yeah.” She sighs and then shrugs a shoulder. “There’s really nothing to talk about. I’ll just go splash some water on my face and get back to it. It’s not even dinnertime yet. I can’t let a man’s lack of consideration ruin my whole day.”

She saunters off to the ladies’ bathroom just as the front door of my pub opens, and I feel my eyes go wide.

Having worked in this establishment all of my life, I’d thought I’d seen everything there was to see.

I was wrong.

Because right there, before my very eyes, is a princess.

There’s a princess in my bar.

She walks in, looking a bit lost and worse for wear now that she’s inside.

Soaking-wet from head to toe, her gown looks damn heavy. Her blond hair is saggy and coming loose from some sort of fancy up-do. Her makeup is smeared under her eyes as if she’s been crying or got caught in a torrential downpour.

Given the state of the rest of her, I’d say it was the latter.

Or both.

“Come on in, lass.”

She looks at me and walks to the bar, hops up onto a stool, and leans on her elbows.

“I’m getting your floor wet,” she says as her phone starts lighting up in her hand.

“It’ll mop up easily enough.” I pour her a shot of whiskey without her asking and set it in front of her. “You look like you can use that.”

Her blue eyes focus on the glass, and then she shoots it back and coughs. “That’s good.”

I laugh and pour her some more. “Is it raining out there?”

“Not right now,” she says. “I was driving a convertible, and it rained between here and Portland.”

I blink at her. “You could have pulled over and put up the top.”

She nods. “Oh, I guess I could have. I didn’t think of it.”

“Do you need a doctor, darling?”

She shakes her head and drinks the whiskey, still ignoring the phone on the bar. “No. I don’t know what I need, to be honest. I was supposed to be married by now, but I escaped that, just in the nick of time.”

And here we go. It’s natural for people to spill their guts to bartenders. Why, I have no idea, but they do. So, I do what I do best and start washing glasses behind the bar while the gorgeous little thing gets ready to babble away.

But to my surprise, she clenches her lips and just stares at her phone.

“Are you going to check that?”

“I should.” But she doesn’t reach for it. Finally, she pulls it to her and huffs out a breath. “My father just fired me.”

I raise a brow. “You work for your father?”

“Not anymore,” she says, then taps the screen a few times before tossing her phone into her bag. “They’re pretty mad.”

“Perhaps if you explain the why of it all, they won’t be angry.”

She watches me. “You’re probably right. But for now, I do not want to go home. I don’t want to see him or talk about why I left. I just want to be gone for a while. You know?”

“Like a vacation?”

“A vacation from my life,” she agrees. “I don’t even know how I got on this island. I drove until I came to the ferry terminal, and then I got on it—and ended up here.”

“Well, it’s a fine island to get lost on.”

“Okay, I think I can handle whatever the day might throw at us—” Maggie stops short when she sees our customer and frowns. “Oh, honey. Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

The other woman laughs and shakes her head. “I must really look horrible if everyone is asking me if I need medical attention.”

“I think you looked better this morning,” Maggie says. “Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I’m starving.”

“I’ll get you some stew. I’m Maggie, by the way.”

“Izzy.” She smiles. “I’m Izzy.”

Maggie bustles to the kitchen to fetch the stew, and Izzy continues watching me.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Keegan O’Callaghan.”

“You’re a handsome one,” she says, then her eyes go wide. “And that’s the whiskey talking. But it’s true. But I’m off all men, so you’re safe from me. No need to throw me out or anything.”

I laugh and decide not to give her any more whiskey.

“I’m not throwing you out of here.”

“Good.”

Maggie returns with the stew, and Izzy digs in. “This is delicious.”

“Thanks.” Maggie smiles. “It’s a family recipe.”

“Our ma used to be in charge of the kitchen here at O’Callaghan’s,” I say.

“You two are siblings?” she asks.

“That’s right,” Maggie says. “And three others come in and out from time to time. Shawn and his wife are manning the kitchen today.”

“Where are the other two?” Izzy asks, seeming enthralled by the story.

“Kane is probably working on something in his barn,” I reply, “and Maeve is likely showing houses.”

“So, you all live around here?”

“Aye. Where are you from, Izzy?”

“Salem, just south of Portland.” She sighs. “And I’m not going back for a while.”

“What are you going to do?” Maggie asks.

“I don’t know.”

I’ve never been able to turn away someone in need. “I can use another waitress.”

Izzy’s eyes light up. “Really? Can I apply for the job? I know I’m not exactly dressed for an interview, but I’m a hard worker.”

“Have you waitressed before?”

Her expression falls. “No. But I learn fast, and I’m totally trustworthy. And I could really use the job.”

Maggie walks behind Izzy then gives me a grin and a thumbs-up. She wants me to hire her.

“Can you start this evening?”

“I can start right now.” She looks down at herself. “Wait. I don’t even have any clothes. I left the church so fast, I didn’t take anything but my purse with me.”

“I have some things you can borrow,” Maggie offers. “Keegan, I’d like to take her home so she can shower and get into something much more comfortable.”

“I can handle things here for a while.”

“Does that mean I can start tonight?” Izzy asks.

“I do believe you just got yourself a job,” I reply.

Izzy claps her hands and hops off her stool. “Thank you. So much. You won’t regret it.”

Six hours later, I already regret it.

Not having Izzy around. With all the makeup cleaned off her face, and after a shower and some clean clothes, she’s absolutely gorgeous. And she’s kind, funny, and good with the customers.

But she’s a horrible waitress.

Izzy hurries to the bar with her tray, stops and blinks, and then turns back and yells at the table across the room. “What kind of beer did you say you wanted, Frank?”

I sigh. “Know the customers’ names, do you?”

“They’re super nice,” she says.

They think she’s hot. That’s why they’re so fucking nice.

“But you can’t remember their orders?”

She bites her lip. “I know, I’m sorry.”

I slide a pad of paper and a pen across the bar to her. “Write the orders down. You don’t have to remember them.”

“Maggie doesn’t write anything down.”

“Maggie’s been working in this pub since she was in nappies, Izzy. Trust me, just write it all down.”

She takes the pad and smiles shyly. I’ve noticed that she keeps looking at our small stage, watching the duo who plays Irish music for us on the weekends.

“They’re good.”

“They are, yes.”

Without another word, she goes back to Frank’s table and writes down their order. The rest of the evening is busy. I can see that Izzy’s feet hurt, but she doesn’t complain. She doesn’t mess up another order, only breaks one glass, and is true to her word.

She learns quickly.

At the end of the night, once the door is locked and the bar cleaned up, I catch Izzy yawning with a mop in her hand.

“I think that’s enough excitement for you today.”

“I can finish,” she insists.

“We’re done,” Maggie announces.

“Oh, thank God,” Izzy says with a small laugh. “I’m so dang tired. I was supposed to be in Aruba right now. Instead, I’m here. I’m not complaining. I just—”

“I totally get it,” Maggie assures her.

“You did well,” I say as I turn off the lights and get ready to follow the girls out to their cars. We’ve never had a problem here, but it’s the middle of the night, and I’d rather make sure they’re safe.

“Thank you so much. I had fun. When is my next shift?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” I reply. “Be here around noon. You can work until dinnertime.”

“Awesome.”

“Goodnight,” Maggie says with a wave and gets into her car.

I watch as Izzy climbs into her little Lexus convertible. But instead of starting it up and driving away, she reclines the driver’s seat and locks the doors.

I drag my hand down my face.

You have got to be kidding me.

I prop my hands on my hips and look around. It’s none of my business if Izzy wants to sleep in her car.

She’s a grown woman.

This is a safe town.

I turn around to walk back inside, then mumble fuck under my breath and approach Izzy’s car.

I tap on the window, startling her.

She turns the key and lowers the glass.

“Am I not allowed to park here?”

“Parking here isn’t the issue. You don’t have anywhere to go?”

She shakes her head. “But I’m fine here. It’s warm. Maggie loaned me a blanket, so it’ll be fine.”

I try to open the door, but it’s locked. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Inside. You can sleep in my flat until you get your feet under you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I don’t want to impose. You’ve already done so much for me—”

“Izzy. I’m not going to let you sleep out here in your car when I have space for you upstairs. Now, get your things and come with me.”

She blows out a breath, then does as I ask. She locks her car behind her as she follows me into the bar and up the steps to the flat above.

“Wait, you’re not a serial killer, right?”

“Now’s not the smartest time to remember to ask me that.”

“But, for real, though.”

“No, I’m not going to hurt you. Come on.”

I open the door, relieved that I took an extra twenty minutes this morning to straighten things up.

“It’s not big, but it’s home.”

There’s a tiny kitchenette off the living room. I show her the master—and only—bedroom, then lead her to the bathroom.

“I have all the essentials in here. I’ll set out a new toothbrush and razor for you.”

“Wow, thank you so much, Keegan.”

And just like it was all night, it’s like a punch to the fucking gut when she says my name.

“You’re welcome. I’ll change the sheets on the bed for you.”

“I’m definitely not taking your bed. I can sleep just fine on the couch.”

“My ma would have my hide if she knew I let you sleep on the sofa.” I smile at her and turn to the linen closet for fresh sheets. Less than ten minutes later, my bedroom belongs to Izzy, and I have a blanket and a pillow waiting for me in the living room. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

I walk into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea and hear Izzy walking into the bathroom. The shower starts. I lean on the countertop, my head hanging, chin touching my chest.

The sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life is naked in my shower, about to sleep in my flat, and she’s totally off-limits.

She’s only hours from running out of her wedding.

And she works for me.

But, damn it, something about her pulls at me.

The water turns off, and I can picture her drying herself with a fluffy, white towel. The bathroom door opens. She shuts off the light and shuffles back to the bedroom, wearing a pair of Maggie’s sweats and an old college T-shirt.

I carry my tea to the sofa and let it steep on the coffee table as I take the fastest shower of my life, given the lack of hot water. I pull on some clean clothes and return to the living room to lie down. My feet hang over the end of the armrest. My shoulders are too wide for the cushions.

I’m a damn giant on this thing.

I shift onto my side and watch the steam rising from my mug.

The light under the bedroom door goes out, and the flat becomes still in the night.

What the fuck am I doing?

Chapter 2

~Izzy~

I hear rain.

Does it rain this hard in Aruba?

I stretch under the covers and frown at the soreness in my ankles and feet. I open my eyes and frown.

I’m not in Aruba.

I’m in Washington.

In a strange man’s bed.

Alone.

Yesterday’s events roll through my mind, from running out on the wedding to the long drive, and Keegan giving me a job. I should feel guilty. Sad. But I don’t. All I feel is relief.

I sit up and reach for my phone, turning it on. I’m sure I have dozens of messages waiting for me. After my dad sent me the pleasant message that I’d embarrassed the family, hurt his friends, and was fired and on my own, I’d turned off the phone and didn’t give it another thought for the rest of the day.

I yawn and rub my hands over my face as the screen comes to life, and then frown when I see I only have one missed text.

From Troy.

Where do you want me to send your shit?

That’s it. No worried messages from my friends or my mom. Just Troy wondering where to ship the few things I have at his house.

I do a quick Google search for O’Callaghan’s Pub, then copy and paste the address and hit send.

“Well, that’s pathetic,” I mutter as I get out of bed and open the bedroom door. I need the restroom and food, in that order.

When I walk toward the kitchen, I glance over and see Keegan asleep on the small couch in the living room. He looks massive on the tiny sofa. He’s lying on his back, his feet propped on the armrest, his arms crossed over his chest.

His very bare chest.

I guess standing and ogling another man less than twenty-four hours after fleeing the altar is a strong indicator that my marriage to Troy wasn’t a good idea.

But Keegan is long and lean, tanned and muscled—his abs are what a girl’s dreams are made of. And even in sleep, he has the slightest little scowl line between his eyebrows.

Keegan doesn’t strike me as a grumpy man, but he has that sexy crease.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, then?” he says without opening his eyes.

I feel my cheeks flush. “I thought you were asleep.”

He rubs his hands over his face and then sits up on the side of the sofa. “I was until I felt someone staring at me.”

“Sorry.” I shuffle my feet. “Want me to make some coffee?”

“No, I think we should both get dressed, and I’ll take you out for breakfast at my favorite place.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I’m going with or without you,” he says but softens his tone with a small smile. “It’s my daily routine. And you’re welcome to join me.”

My stomach growls, and I nod. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

It doesn’t take long for me to get dressed and ready to go—hair tied back in a ponytail, a bit of mascara and lip gloss I had stowed in my purse applied. I’m beyond lucky that Maggie and I are roughly the same size and that she has such an extensive closet. I borrowed several days’ worth of clothes to get me through until I make enough money to buy some things for myself.

When Keegan’s ready, we set out down a flight of stairs behind the pub that leads to his truck waiting in the alley.

With a turn of the key, Keegan’s Toyota 4x4 roars to life, and he pulls out of the parking space and onto the main road.

“So, you go out to breakfast every morning?” I ask, trying to make conversation.

“Most days. I don’t cook, and I like this diner. Good people own it.”

I’m watching the town pass by as we make our way through the heart of it. “It’s such a cute town. I didn’t pay much attention yesterday.”

“You had other things on your mind,” he says. “We’re a small community of just over three-thousand people. We swell to twice that size in tourist season, but given we’re nearing the end of summer, things are about to slow down.”

“I bet that’s not good for your business.”

“It’s true that summer is the best time for the pub, but I stay busy enough all year through. We have our steady regulars, who want to come by for a pint or just some conversation. And the music brings in a good crowd on the weekends. My parents established roots in this community, and they’re sturdy ones.”

“I could tell last night that a lot of the customers were regulars,” I reply. “I like your pub very much, Keegan.”

He smiles, and I swear it could light up all of the Pacific Northwest. “Thank you, lass.”

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