Page 153 of Buckin' Around

There’s amber lighting, cream walls, and low dark beams running the length of the ceiling. Wooden tables and chairs that fill the floor before a long bar flanked by stools. Most of them are occupied by older men. A built guy in a black uniform polishes glasses behind it, his gaze homing onto Ives and me the second the door squeaks shut behind us.

I give folks a nod as I walk for the bar.

There’s a side room where families sit eating. Kids play with a train set on the floor while the adults chat.

Nice.

Ives wakes up as I reach the bar, rubbing her eyes and looking around. She shrinks into me, as if understanding we’re in a strange place.

“How can I help you, mate?” the big guy behind the bar says. He looks like he’s in his early twenties, with dark hair gelled but not styled, and dark eyes. He’s a burly guy.

He swings the tea towel over his shoulder, obstructing the name stitched onto his shirt before I can read it.Dewas all I got.

“Hi, evening. I was wondering how far it is to the O’Malley place.”

He sets the glass down with a thud as his brows drop. “Who’s askin’?”

“Spencer. I’m actually looking for Riley O’Malley?”

“You don’t sound so sure.” He folds his arms over his chest.

Ives wriggles, wanting down.

She strains while I let her down, then wobbles over to the kids and the toys. Apparently, the stranger danger’s worn off.

“I am. How do I get to the O’Malley place? It’s important.”

The old guy on the stool to my left eyes me up and down. “Now, lad, why on earth would you be chasing that girlie for? Sour as they come, that Riley O’Malley.”

“Shut it, Curtis. Or I’ll do it for you while I toss your sorry ass out onto the curb,” the bartender growls.

I’d find it funny, if these two eejits weren’t obstructing my path to Riles.

“If you could just tell me the address.” My head shakes as I glance at Ives, who’s made herself at home with three little girls playing on the floor.

Someone fits right in here.

With a heavy sigh, the bartender plucks up the glass again. “End of Tullymoan Road offshoot. Can’t miss it.”

I collect Ivy from her impromptu playdate, and she whines as we make our way back to the car.

“So close, bubba. Hold on.”

I strap her in, and we’re following Siri’s directions to Tullymoan Road a minute later.

My heart thunders in my chest. The road is wet and grimy. I try to take it slow.

It would be great to get there before night falls. Or the rain gets heavier.

“You have arrived at your destination,” Siri says.

In the middle of damn nowhere.

“What the hell, woman? There’s nothing here!” I slam a hand on the steering wheel.

Ives squeals.

Mr. Fluffy is getting a flying lesson as she flings him around.