A Place to Rest My Heart (2 page)

At least that was what I thought I was saying. It sounded reasonable to me, but Tommy was making, tsk tsk noises and the next thing I knew I was being scooped up into Mr. Arrogant’s arms and after that everything became sort of fuzzy. Voices fluttered around me like butterflies as I tried to grasp their content.

“Damn it, Tommy. Not another stray.” The man called Sean set me down on a bed.

“You were once a stray too, boyo. You couldn’t just put her out in the rain any more than I could and you know it.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

I felt my jacket being tugged off and my boots being unlaced. Some of this really didn’t make sense to me and I kicked out trying to make them stop. A muffled grunt made me smile
in spite of myself. “Oh you think that’s funny do you? Stop smirking, Tommy.” Sean grumbled.

I felt my damp shirt being pulled off of me and I fought to keep it on, but my world dimmed and then faded to black.

Chapter Two

I tried to wake up several times, but it seemed like such an effort and I was very comfortable and warm. I had a feeling of security that had been lacking in my life, as of late.

I lay there, my eyes closed, feeling the softness of the sheets against my skin and hearing the faint sounds of children playing outside. I finally opened my eyes to sunlight filtering through the curtained window and took a moment to take stock of exactly where I was and what condition I was in. Not dead: groggy, thirsty as hell, but alive; definitely hungry.

I sat up quickly, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and looked around the room. Where the hell was I? Was I in someone’s house? If I was, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how I’d gotten here. I remembered having eaten something wonderful at the bar but things after that were very fuzzy. Half-remembered erotic dreams of a man with green eyes and strong hands flitted through my mind, as I continued to look around the room. The small details of soft sheets under my hands, lace curtains on the window across the room, and flowers in a vase on the bedside table said care was taken by whoever lived here.

I knew this was no YWCA or hotel, but where? I slowly stood up, my head only swimming a little as I headed to the door, opened it, and ran right into the man of my dreams. I jumped back, smacking my elbow on the doorframe.

Strong, warm hands grabbed my arms to steady me, “You always so jumpy?” That smirk that had been on his face in the bar was still there. He released my arms, stepped back, and I watched his eyes darken with heat as he slowly looked me over head to toe. I realized at that point I was only wearing a pair of well-worn sweat pants and a thin tank top.

“Some people, myself included, think it’s rude to stare.”

“I don’t give a damn what some people think.” He moved a step closer to me, his eyes boring into mine, and I caught a whiff of some knee-melting cologne. I got the feeling he had something to say, his manner shifting from leering to threatening. But I held fast and stared right back at him. I turned the tables and gave Sean an appraising look, taking in how his worn jeans fit nicely over his long legs, and that his t-shirt fit snugly across his chest. I moved forward to stand toe to toe with him. His grin turned cocky, but his eyes still had some heat to them and his voice was soft and direct, “I’m sure you want to hit the road as soon as possible but if you’re hungry, breakfast is this way.” I got the message loud and clear.

“Where the hell am I?”

“Is this twenty questions?”

“Am I going to need to ask that many before you tell me where the hell I am and where my clothes are?”

“Sean Michael, behave yourself. Your clothes are right here dear,” a small woman bustled down the hallway carrying a full laundry basket. “Go,” she said, giving Sean a little shove. “Be useful.”

He took one more once over of me, shook his head, and walked away.

“Good to see you up and around, dear. We were worried about you.” She moved by me and set the laundry basket on the bed. A deep flush crept up my face as I realized that she had washed and folded all of my wrinkled and mostly threadbare clothes. I had hastily stuffed my duffel bag with my few possessions before leaving San Diego. It had been awhile since I had cared about much of anything, clothing included.

“How rude of me, I’m Molly Muldoon.” She took my hand and shook it firmly. No more than five feet tall, this woman was a powerhouse of energy, with not one gray hair on her head. “You’ve been out for almost two days, Laney Murphy. A touch of the flu is what you had. No surprise there, you were soaked through to the bone. But you seem right as rain now.”

“Where am I?”

“Goodness me, of course you’re curious. You’re in our home. You met Tommy, the man mountain of mine, who tends the bar, and you just met Sean, one of our sons. Now take your time, get dressed, and come downstairs. I bet you’re hungry.”

I looked over at the neatly folded clothes. “I’m sorry to have been a burden on you. I should probably get going as soon as possible.”

“All in good time, Laney, dear. Come and at least fortify yourself for whatever road you plan to take.”

After Molly the powerhouse, left the room, I sat back down and smiled, shaking my head. Well, I had my orders so I had better get to them. Bright sunshine from a skylight lit up the bathroom, bathing it in a pale yellow glow. Soft white towels already sat on the edge of the sink along with a bottle of some sweet-smelling shampoo. I sniffed at it, trying to place the scent. There was no brand name on the bottle but yet it smelled familiar. The water was hot and plentiful, which was a novelty after my last apartment. I couldn’t remember the last time I had enough hot water to even get through washing my hair. I dried myself off, quickly got dressed, and stepped out into the hallway to head downstairs.

The house was simply decorated but it had an air of elegance about it. Dark mahogany end tables, with family pictures set here and there, framed paintings on one wall, and not an inch of dust on the coffee table. An Aubusson rug of rich claret ran the length of the room. The room had a lived-in elegance. Not like my Aunt Katherine’s home, which had been kept like a museum. She had practically beat me black and blue once for spilling crumbs on her floor.

It was clear that Tommy and Molly both valued family. They had numerous framed pictures, of people I assumed were their kids, along the walls and on shelves — two girls and two boys, including Sean. They even had several shelves devoted to photo albums. I found myself more curious about who they were and I was certainly envious of the sense of love and family on display.

The faint sound of voices broke into my thoughts and I reluctantly left the comfort of the room. My stomach was starting to growl anyway. Far be it from me to ever keep food waiting.

When I stepped into the dining room, I could tell Molly and Tommy had been discussing me. People always get a certain look about them when they realize they might have been caught talking about you behind your back — and they had it. Tommy stepped back from Molly and moved toward the tables.

“Well, you look a hundred percent better already. Some color back in your face.” Molly gently patted my cheek. “Now sit down and let’s eat.” She indicated a tall-backed chair for me. “I didn’t know what you might like and I was in a cooking mood,” Molly said. She looked closely at me again and then began removing covers from several dishes already on the table. Eggs, sausage, potatoes — the works was spread before me. I had died and gone to food heaven.

Tommy began filling a plate for me before I could say anything. “She’s always in a cooking mood,” he chuckled. Molly patted his arm before disappearing through a swinging door.

Sean sat down across from me as Tommy was setting the nearly overflowing plate before me. Sean frowned at me and I could tell he was gritting his teeth. I had no idea what the hell I had done to cause him to dislike me, but the displeasure was quite clear on his face and that was fine by me. He was the most pompous person I’d ever met and I wanted to push his buttons like crazy.

Molly came back in the room carrying a basket of fresh-baked blueberry muffins and I almost cried, the scent was so sweet.

My God, did people still really live like this? I think the last time I’d had fresh-baked anything was when I slept in an alley that was behind a donut shop. The baker felt sorry for me and gave me a huge bag of donuts and a large coffee.

But my stomach was way ahead of me and made its presence known quite loudly.

“Excuse me,” I said hoping to keep the blush that was creeping up my neck from going any further. “I’m umm … not used to all this. Thank you.” Trying hard to remember all the manners that had been drilled into me as a child, and picked up my fork.

Tommy just waved his hand. “’Tis no great matter. I expected you to be hungry and the Lord knows Sean and I cannot keep up with everything this woman cooks.” He winked at his wife. As Tommy and Molly bantered on about her cooking the smells turned my mind off and my stomach on. No sense in letting all this go to waste, and since I had no idea what my next move was, I knew I needed some energy to keep me going. I was planning my escape and only halfway listening to the talk going on around me as I bit into a warm muffin and all coherent thought left me as the melted butter and blueberries mingled on my tongue.

I glanced up to see Tommy wink at Molly. I looked at Sean who was still watching me, distrust written all over his face. Jesus, did he think I was going to make off with the silverware as soon as his back was turned?

Tommy looked over at Sean, “Sean, are you planning to come to Thea’s going away party tonight?”

Sean grunted and began reaching for more food to refill his already empty plate. “Yes, of course. I heard that you interviewed several people yesterday. Any luck?”

“No. No luck at all.” Tommy sighed with some exaggeration.

“I can build a Guinness. I’ve done it before.” For the life of me, I had no idea what made me speak up. Wasn’t my problem if he was short a bartender, but it was as if some cosmic force took hold of my tongue and used it for its own purpose. I hate when that happens.

“Yeah? Where?” asked Sean sitting back in his chair, looking for all the world like a man setting himself on an interrogation. It took everything I had not to reach across the table and wipe that smug look off his face.

“You the boss?” I asked, getting to my feet. “Don’t look like it from where I’m standing.” Sean got to his feet as well and started to say something but Tommy cleared his throat. “Mind your manners, Sean. We didn’t raise barbarians. Laney, sit down and finish eating, please. Then after we’re done with breakfast you can come over to the pub and show me your Guinness-building abilities.”

“But,” Sean started to say something but one look from Tommy had him shaking his head and finally shutting up.

As soon as breakfast was done, I followed Tommy to the pub. Unfortunately, Sean joined us as well. Oh goody.

The Muldoon house was behind the pub, or you could say that the pub sat behind the house. Either way it was a short walk as we headed out the back door and down the steps that led to a garden. Although, in theory, spring was still days away, it looked like this garden felt it already. Bright colors popped up here and there, as small yellow and purple crocuses made their announcement that spring was here regardless of what any calendar might say. Even a few tulips were beginning to push their way up to the sun.

We walked across the yard and through the back door of the pub. The wide hallway had framed photos along the walls but none were of visiting celebrities or politicians. The photos that adorned the walls were of real people, with smiling faces, holding hands or babies. These walls were reserved for friends and family, weddings and births. Life lived and breathed within these walls. Family was that life.

We passed the bathrooms and made our way to the kitchen, where a huge, ebony-skinned man with a bald head was stirring something on the stove that smelled incredible.

“Morning, Jacob,” said Tommy. Jacob just smiled and winked at me, and stuck his tongue out at Sean, making me giggle to my surprise. I don’t giggle. A woman who considers herself a hard ass does not giggle. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had even laughed, much less giggled.

Sean ignored Jacob and scowled at me. I guessed Mr. Arrogant was not happy with me being here in his territory. Tough. I wasn’t planning on leaving right away. Mostly because I wanted to put Sean’s pretty nose out of joint, mentally and physically, and to be perfectly honest, I liked Tommy. Well hell, let’s be even more honest, I needed a job and I could not afford to be picky.

The hall opened up to the pub. There were several teenagers putting up a “Goodbye” banner and blowing up balloons. They waved at Tommy and continued decorating.

“We’re closed on Sunday,” Tommy said, lifting up the pass thru for me to go behind the bar.

Sean came around and sat down at the front of the bar, while Tommy leaned against the counter. “Well?” Tommy looked expectantly at me.

I smiled, picked up a pencil, and quickly pulled my hair up into a loose bun on my head using the pencil to hold it in place. I washed my hands and, flipping a clean bar towel over my shoulder, picked up a pint glass and got to work. I noticed a bartender’s guidebook tucked into a shelf below the bar. I picked it up with my free hand and tossed it to Sean.

“Ask me.” I pointed to the book. “Go ahead, Mr. Arrogant. Ask me about any drink.”

He looked at me for a moment and then flipped through the book.

“Piña Colada.” He smirked. His voice was all bravado and he was daring me to beat him. The gauntlet had been thrown and far be it from me to let it lie.

I sighed and shook my head, “Is that the best you can do? Coconut cream, pineapple juice, light rum, blend with ice and serve in a highball glass with a garnish of cherry and orange. But I like to get a bit fancier and make a small shish kabob of fruit and one of those little umbrellas. Now ask me something harder.”

I was slowly building the pint. Making sure not to draw too much foam. Building a Guinness is a painstaking process. Though it wasn’t the drink for me, I have found that those who appreciate its strong, yeasty taste appreciate the way it’s made too.