Page 27 of Blame it on the Bet
His smile doesn’t lose a bit of wattage.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Hennessy. Is it all right if I call you Hennessy?”
I give him a “whatever” shrug and notice that Walker is still staring at him.
“Bryan Truitt, this is my sister, Walker O’Halloran.” His face lights with recognition.
“Walker! Of course, we spoke on the phone the other day. See, you told me I needed to speak directly with Hennessy, and I took your advice,” he says with a chuckle. “Are you the one with the baby? Wally mentioned you had children the same age.”
My sister’s eyes practically bulge out of her head. “Baby? What? No, not me,” Walker insists, holding up her palms and waving them as if to protect herself from contagious baby juju.
“You’re thinking of Jameson,” I explain, making a mental note to kick Wally’s butt for giving this guy personal information about our family.
Bryan Truitt is silent for a few seconds, looking as if he’s trying to work something out.
“Okay, so…” he begins slowly. “You’re Hennessy.” He points to me and I nod. “Your other sister is Jameson…” Again, I nod. “And you’re Walker?” he asks her.
“Are you deaf?” my sister snipes at him.
“So your parents named the three of you after liquor?” he asks with clear delight. “Because I assume that Walker— not as in Walker, Texas Ranger—is a tip of the hat to old Johnnie Walker.”
I nod, taking delight in needling my sister about the name she hates—even to this guy.
“Her full name is Johnnie Walker Black O’Halloran,” I explain as Walker scowls.
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles. “And our youngest sister is Bailey Irish O’Halloran. Now, do you want a drink or would you like me to walk you through the whole freaking family tree?”
“Sorry, sorry… I didn’t mean to offend,” he assures her, making a small bow as a gesture of mock repentance. “But yes, a drink would be great. Can I please have a Stoli? Oh, hey! Now that wouldn’t be a bad name.”
Walker just turns back to the bar, shaking her head in disgust.
I lead him to a high two-top in a quiet corner. We’ve barely sat when my sister arrives with his drink. She doesn’t say a word, but she does shoot Bryan a warning glare. He grins when she leaves.
“Not so much sweetness and sunshine, that one, huh?” I’m smirking before I can stop myself.
No, no, no! No smiling at the enemy.
In an instant, I’ve reverted to my impassive expression.
He notices.
“Oh, come on—don’t be like that,” he cajoles. “No reason we have to be enemies. It’s only business.”
“And that, Mr. Truitt?—”
“Bryan.”
“Fine. And that, Bryan, is where you are dead wrong. O’Halloran’s isn’t just a business. It’s an institution. It’s a beloved gathering place in this community. And it’s my parents’ legacy,” I spit at him.“That’s the difference between us. Where you see just another strip mall, or movie theater, or whatever the hell it is you plan on building, I see a life’s work and the business that put food on our table. And upstairs is the home where we lived when I was a child. So, no, Bryan, it is not just business.”
He considers me for a long moment before looking down at his hands, folded on the tabletop. When he meets my eyes again, something has changed.
“You’re right, Hennessy. That was very insensitive of me. See, I don’t usually spend much time in the towns where my projects are. Most of my business is conducted by phone and email—I hire local inspectors to come and scout out the potential properties before I move to acquire them. So this is all a little new to me, being in a place like Mayhem.” His mouth quirks up into a smile. “But I have to admit, I like what I see so far.”
I feel the blush as it rises from under my collar, spreading up my neck and face.
Dammit! Why couldn’t he be a chubby, balding guy with bad teeth in his late-sixties? Why does he have to be all handsome and funny and…and like a guy I’d be attracted to were he not trying to ruin my life?
“Well, trust me, Bryan,” I say, my cool tone belying my flaming face. “You’re much better suited for La-La Land. So go home. Go back to your skyscrapers and all the beautiful people who live in the beautiful sunshine. Go. Home. Because, as I said before, there’s nothing for you here in Mayhem.”
