Page 23 of Mob Star

“I’m sorry, Thea.”

“That wasn’t your fault. I suppose I could even look at it like a compliment.”

His jaw clenches.

“You are a beautiful woman, and I’m going to have to get used to men looking at you in a way I admit makes me want to bash their teeth in. But there wasn’t a damn thing respectable about what he just did. It’s as much about you being my date as it is me being unwilling to tolerate him behaving that way in front of other guests. Not on a moral principle or a business principle.”

Who would have thought a man in the mob could have such scruples? I could tell from the moment I saw him he has no patience for bullshit. I never guessed he’d have such a strict sense of morality.

“Thea, I wouldn’t want him to look at my mom or aunts like that. I wouldn’t want him to look at Mair like that. If I’d find it objectionable that he did it to them, then I have to find it objectionable that he looks at any woman like that. The fact that you’re my date, and he only fixed his attitude because he saw me, tells me things about him I didn’t know before. I’ll give him one more chance. If I find out he acts like this on the regular or does it again, I won’t have it. I won’t have any employee feel uncomfortable around their manager, and I won’t have any patron refuse to come back because of it. He will not cost me good wait staff or customers. Plus, he’s a dick.”

I chuckle at the last part. “I don’t disagree. What do you recommend?”

“The entire left side of the menu tonight, and the entire right side the next time you’re here. Besides McGinty’s, this has the best food out of all the restaurants and bars I own.”

“Do you have many? I didn’t realize you’re a restauranteur.”

“I’m not. I’m an accountant and a day trader. But I like good food that I don’t always have to cook. Since my mom refuses to cook for my brothers or me because we eat too much, I have to go elsewhere. She only cooks for us when it’s my parents’ turn to host our Sunday family dinners.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he speaks, so I know he’s joking. I can hear it in his tone. It’s sweet how he talks about his family. It matches the little I’ve seen of him with his brothers and cousins. He was loyal and defensive a moment ago when he said he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect toward the women in his family, but now he sounds lighthearted talking about his mom.

“Do you have Sunday family dinners every week?”

“Usually. Not everyone can always attend, but we rotate. My parents and uncles and aunts made sure we could all cook before we left home. They survived the teenage years with six boys raiding their fridges. They said we were on our own once we moved into our dorms. We could eat at the university cafeterias or cook for ourselves, but they were all off the clock except for once every nine weeks when their turn comes up.”

I like that idea. My family has meals together a couple times most months. But it’s nothing set in stone. They’ll go to Jamie and Asher’s to see the grandkids or Rod’s to see my niece, but my schedule makes it hard to be included often. Until hearing Finn talk about it, I didn’t realize I feel excluded. No one means to, and it’s never bothered me to just see pictures or hear stories. But it gives me a little sad twinge.

“Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah. An older and younger brother.”

This is a good time to test the waters. Things could be dead in them right now depending on how he reacts.

“My older brother and brother-in-law have four kids. The youngest is six months old.”

“That must make Christmas fun. And loud.”

He doesn’t drop a beat. He’s been open minded about everything so far, but I don’t know if and where there’s a limit.

“Thea, I was raised Irish Catholic. But no one in my family is the stereotype of anything.”

My cheeks are ablaze. I inwardly cringe. He reaches across the table and covers my hand just like he did on the bar yesterday.

“We’re getting to know each other. It’s okay to want to make sure I’ll accept your family. Feck knows I’m asking a lot of you.”

He’s definitely not any of the stereotypes of mobsters I’ve heard or seen in the news or the movies. All I can do is smile and nod as our waitress approaches. I skim the menu and pick something.

“Do you know what you’d like, Thea?”

“Yes.” I close my menu and look up at the waitress. “The poulet à la provençale, please. Is your Riesling sweet or dry?”

It’s one of my favorite dishes. Chicken with herbs de Provence. Rosemary, fennel, thyme, and oregano.

“Sweet.”

“A glass of that, please.”

The woman looks at Finn, and I get what he meant about wanting to bash someone’s teeth in. She looks like she’d like to have him for dinner. Finn’s hand is still covering mine, and she’s still looking at him with unmasked interest. Do they have a past?

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