Page 6 of Fighting for Irish
With a disgusted sigh, she whipped the towel down from her shoulder and strode toward the bar. He waited to make sure she wasn’t obeying her stubborn Scottish streak that no doubt wanted her to come back and stand her ground. Then he took the folded cash he saw in the guy’s front shirt pocket. Aiden set the man down, glanced at the amount scrawled on the paper tab, and thumbed through the bills—mostly crumpled singles with a few fives.
“You’re still seven dollars short,” Aiden said. “Any of your friends want to pony up the rest and the lady’s tip?”
The three other men voiced a chorus of, “Karl said he was payin’,” and, “I ain’t got nothin’ on me.” Aiden kept the money and the tab. Jabbing a hard finger into Karl’s chest, Aiden loomed over him to get his point across.
“You’re done for the night, Karl. The next time you come here you’re gonna remember two things: one, you bring enough money to cover your bill and leave a generous tip for whichever waitress busts her ass to bring you your beer, and two, you will treat the waitresses with the respect they deserve. Got it?”
Karl nodded with so much enthusiasm he looked like a bobblehead on speed.
“Good,” Aiden said. “Now go home.”
The man and his small posse didn’t waste any time following orders, and that was one more problem solved for the night.
Aiden put in the last bit missing so it wouldn’t come out of Kat’s wages, then gave the money and the bill to the bartender for settling. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kat walk down the hall toward the back office and the employee bathroom. He grabbed another bill from his wallet and followed her.
“Sydney.”
She turned her head just before entering the bathroom. Aiden walked over and stood next to her, unable to say anything. It was always like this for him. Whenever he helped her out on the floor, he had no problems speaking. He might be a man of few words, but that didn’t mean he didn’t say everything he needed to get his point across.
But when he was alone with Kat, he couldn’t get a damn thing out. He was afraid his “Hey, how was your weekend?” would end up as something entirely different. That opening his mouth to say anything would let out all the things he couldn’t let himself say.
You’re all I fucking think about. I wanna feel your body against mine and wrap your legs around my waist. Feel what it’s like to have your pussy squeeze my cock as you come and breathe you in until you’re the only thing inside me.
So instead of taking the risk, Aiden simply held out the twenty dollar bill between them until she accepted it. Reluctantly, as always.
Holding up the bill, she said, “I told you to stop this.”
“I know.”
Forcing himself to turn around, he retraced his steps toward the bar.
“Irish.” He stopped just before entering the main room and looked back over his shoulder. Her face softened, the lines around her blue-green eyes gone. “Thank you,” she said. “For what you did in there.”
Aiden nodded and continued out to the bar area. Winding his way through the crowd, he couldn’t help but hear Jax’s parting words echoing in his head.
Everyone deserves to be loved.Even you.
Jax was wrong, though. As far as Aiden was concerned, he’d lost that right on the rainy streets of Boston five long years ago. The night he’d ended Janey’s life.
