Page 17 of Broken Blood Ties

There, head tilted back with a smile wider than I’ve seen before, is Mr. O’Donnell.

I try.

Oh man, I try so hard to look away. To go back to my search for Lizzy, but I’m captured—maybe more like ensnared by his mannerisms. His smile feels effortless, like he’s used to laughing with these men. Like he trusts them enough to open up.

I glance down, studying his dark blue jeans and dark green button up covered by a caramel-colored jacket. A bracelet peeks through his sleeve, but I can’t quite make out what it is.

I wonder if he’s leaving for the night. Who does Aoife stay with when he’s here? Immediately, I think of her nanny, because of course it would be the nanny.

Shaking my head, I lift my gaze one last time to glimpse another one of his wide smiles—only I’m met with pursed lips and narrowed eyes that burn right through me.

I whip my head back around to stare at the twenty bottles of whiskey on the shelves in front of me. My heart thumps wildly in my chest at the notion I was just caught ogling the man. I don’t know why I was. I can’t stand him.

Keeping my head trained ahead, I wait, turning just enough to see he’s no longer there. With that, I let out a sigh, ditch the thin straw and take a satisfying swig of my drink, or what’s left of it.

“Ah, ye’re drinking on a school night, Miss Smith?”

I freeze, glass still tipped back, and I part my lips letting the rest of the ice flood my mouth. Jeez, it’s cold.

There, to my right, is Mr. O’Donnell standing with a smug smirk on his chiseled face. Like he’s just caught me doing something I’m not supposed to. Except there aren’t any rules about teachers going out for a drink on a school night.

Sure, it may look bad to the parent of my student who happens to own the bar, but it’s not like I’m drinking.

Right?

Oh jeez.

Finally, the glob of ice in my mouth melts. “I’m not drinking,” I say flatly.

I mean, he’s making money off of Shelly and I. Plus, if Mark and Larry ever show up, I’m sure they’ll purchase drinks, too. We’re giving him business; he shouldn’t give me grief.

Mr. O’Donnell pulls out the barstool next to me, and I discreetly fumble with my left hand, trying to grab at Shelly. Unfortunately, I’m hitting empty air.

“Mr. O’Donnell?—”

“Kieran,” he corrects, and I wince.

“Um, Kieran,” I start, and I watch his jaw tick and his nostrils flare. “I can assure you I’m not drinking tonight. Just out for a bit with my coworker.”

As if on cue, Shelly cackles to my left still oblivious to Mr. O’D—Kieran having plopped down next to me. Traitor.

“Relax. Just having a bit of fun with ye.” He smiles, and I think I’ve lost my ability to blink because all I can do is stare. But then I register what he said.

“Relax?” I huff. “Sure you don’t want to try to get me fired over coming to a bar on a school night?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Aren’t ye a feisty wee thing.”

I shake my head, turn away from him, and trace the rim of my empty glass with my finger. Jeez.

It’s strange. A club or bar used to be where I felt most myself all those years ago. But now … I couldn’t feel less comfortable.

Lizzy approaches, and I grab for my glass to lift it in offering for another, but a hand grazes mine, and I realize Kieran has also reached for my glass. I pull my hand away. His fingertips seared onto my skin with the simple touch. It feels like I’ve been zapped.

Actually, that’s exactly it. He must’ve shocked me.

Except, when I glance at him, he’s staring down at where his hand grips my glass, wide-eyed.

Well, it wasn’t my fault.