Page 8 of Irish Fury
She could feel her friends stiffen. Gray took a step forward, ready to, most likely, snatch the woman from Jonathan and toss her out the door. Jonathan looked stunned. Whatever. Jonathan had a type.
Mags just smiled and said, “Right. My style’s not for everyone, that’s for sure. Nice to meet you, Jasmine.” She quickly turned to Blair before her smile faltered into a grimace and signed, “Do we have a table, or are we just hanging at the bar? I don’t mind either way.”
Blair, Bébhinn, and Gray took the hint and turned to face Cormac, Ciar’s uncle, to shout out their drink orders.
“Just water with lemon for me, Mr. Murphy,” Mags grinned. “And where’s the other Mr. Murphy hiding?”
“Yeah, well, be thankful the good brother will be serving you today, Miss Morrow. Ciaran can’t go an hour without haranguing the new cook—too much salt on the chips, too much batter on the cod, mash on the pie isn’t whipped enough. The man is embarrassing himself.”
“Aunt Alya isn’t a cook, Uncle, she’s a trained chef for the love of God.” Ciar leaned against the bar and rolled his eyes. “You and Dad are being selfish pricks keeping her here. I’ve told her she would make triple at Gray Eyes.”
“Gray Eyes doesn’t have your dad, babe. Let it go,” Gray teased, elbowing her husband in the side.
“I bet if I walked into that kitchen right now, I’d find Ciaran and Aunt Alya in a compromising position,” Jonathan joked.
Jonathan had come closer to the group, leaving Jasmine sitting on a stool by herself. While Daniel was busy telling Cormac that he swore his brother’s lips looked like they’d beenkiss swollen when he’d come in for a pint last week, and everyone hooted with laughter, Jonathan leaned close.
“Mags,” he started. “I’m sorry about?—”
She cut him off, no longer interested in hearing him apologize for his poor choices yet again. “It’s fine. It meant nothing to me.”
Cormac dragged a bar rag around her glass of water. “No rum and Coke today, Mags?”
“Eh, I’ve got a few hours of work left when I get home, and alcohol isn’t the best incentive.” Which was true, but she would have gladly thrown one back if she had the funds.
Jonathan tried to get her attention when Bébhinn announced that everyone should place their food orders before they found a table.
Thankfully, Mags’ phone screen lit up with a call from her mom, saving her from the group's scrutiny over her lack of a food order as well.
Backing away from the group, she said, “No food for me, Cormac. I was a glutton and ate way too much breakfast.” Before the inevitable questions of what she stuffed her face with, she quickly added, “Hey, Mom's ringing, I’m going to step around the corner to hear her.”
Congratulating herself on the smooth exit, she rounded the corner to the restrooms. She answered, “Hey, Mom, you’re up bright and early.”
“I’m sorry to bother your friend time, sweetheart, but I have such exciting news, I couldn’t wait to tell you,” her mom said, clearly excited.
“Oh, my God. Tell me, tell me, tell me!” Mags was already chanting “be healthy” over and over in her head.
“One month, six weeks at the most, and your dad and I can come home.”
Mags heard her mom squealing and clapping her hands, and her dad laughing in the background. “No way, Mom. Finally. Holy shit! Finally. So, what does this mean? Are you healed? Do you feel healed? Do you have to do anymore treatments?”
“I have to do one more round of treatment, but my doctor said my scans are already good. He just refuses to take any chances. And yes, I feel healed,” she laughed, “and so happy. I’ve missed you and your sister horribly. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.”
“Me too, Mom. It’s been hard having you so far away, but we’re down to weeks now. We can make it a few more weeks. And Dad? Did he turn in his manuscript? Or the first half, I mean?”
“He did, and the university press’ publicist loved it.”
Mags felt her heart soar and the weight of bricks fall from her shoulders. Her financial struggles were nothing compared to what her parents had been going through, and it seemed like her family’s toughest times were finally moving behind them.
“Are you getting Ciaran’s famous crab cakes for lunch or a juicy burger and fries?”
“Can a girl not order the cakes and the burger? Geez, Mom, you know I’m always starving. I already ordered, and the food can’t come soon enough. Oh, and Ciaran probably isn’t cooking the food today, since Ciar’s aunt Alya kind of kicked him out of the kitchen a few weeks ago.” She smiled when her mom giggled.
Mags hung up after she and her parents said goodbye. She still had a grin on her face when she whirled around to find Jonathan leaning on the wall behind her. She gasped in outrage at his listening to her private conversation, but fear quickly followed.
“What the hell, creeper?” She stepped to the right, prepared to go around him, when his hand snaked out and grasped her forearm, stopping her retreat.
“What the fuck is going on, Mags?” Jonathan demanded.
