Page 1 of Her Irish Boss

1

“Unreasonable, heartless bastard.”

Those were the last words Brogan O'Keeley heard as the cook he fired shoved open the front door and tossed his apron on the ground. The waitress scurried along behind him, her head held high; she was quiet. She hadn't said much after Brogan walked in on them in the supply closet, undressed down to their knickers. Some things he wished he could unsee. Even though he was Irish, he didn't approve of men's boxers dotted with shamrocks.

Brogan glanced around his restaurant, making eye contact with any employee who still stood in shock, watching the unnecessary drama instead of ensuring O'Keeley's Irish Pub was ready to receive customers.

As he buttoned his suit jacket, Brogan noted it was one minute until they opened for lunch. It'd been a hell of a morning already, but working, driving forward in life, always centered him. Staying in control. Managing day-to-day operations. He was good at both of those.

The man said he was unreasonable. Probably. The good of his company would always override rule-breakers whoput his business at risk, possibly leaving them open to a sexual harassment lawsuit.

And if anyone asked his brothers, they'd both agree that he was a heartless bastard. He'd devoted the past ten years to make this restaurant a success. For himself. For his brothers. He worked hard to make sure O'Keeley's Irish Pub was ready to present the best possible experience to its customers. Perfection was achievable—

“Sorry!”

Brogan closed his eyes. And timeliness was everything.

But not to Selena. He took a breath to ensure his voice was even. Too much of his accent and it might give away his irritation.

“I got here—"

“As soon as you could,” he finished for her. He opened his eyes, hoping to see Selena at least ready to wait on customers. Nope. Too much to ask. Her white shirt with the O'Keely's Irish Pub logo was untucked. She held her sneakers in her hands, bright pink flip flops peeking out from underneath her blue jeans.

Her hair, a honey color, long and loose around her shoulders, was not pulled back and meeting safety guidelines. The snap of attraction each day he set eyes on her still irritated him. He clenched his teeth. Personal feelings were always separate from conducting business. He'd paid too much the last time he blurred the lines.

She grimaced. “Yes. I'm really sorry, Mr. O'Keeley.” She took two steps backward, giving him two thumbs up and a hesitant smile. “We're good? Right?”

He released the tension in his jaw with a controlled exhale. Why hadn't he fired her by now? “Go get ready.” Because he knew she worked harder than anyone else. Once she actually got ready to work.

She bounced on her toes and rushed through the dining room, waving to other waiters and waitresses she passed.

He shifted, slipping his hands into his pockets and tearing his eyes away from her retreating figure. A damn nice figure.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed her out of his mind and observed his waitstaff straightening chairs, ensuring the tables were aligned correctly. The dark wood floors and exposed wood beams gave his restaurant a homey feel, just like the pubs back home, except larger. The rich smell of Irish stew and fresh soda bread made him thankful his younger brother had become a chef. Various pictures of Ireland, green landscapes with gray skies hung on the walls, all artwork he and his brothers had collected over the years.

“Mr. O'Keeley?” Lenny, his shift manager, stopped beside him. “We just received a call for a dinner reservation for forty. Do you want me to open up the long room upstairs?”

“Yes. What's the name on the reservation?”

“Simmons?” Lenny said it like a question. At Brogan's raised eyebrow, Lenny cleared his throat and tilted his chin up. “It's Simmons.”

Brogan let a rare smile show. He'd worked with the kid to make sure he came across with authority in his new position as a shift manager. “Good.” He started to walk away. Simmons. “Randy Simmons?”

“Yes, sir. Did you still want me to put them in the upstairs room?”

The man had some gall coming into O'Keeley's when he planned to tear it down. “Yes.” His eye caught Selena leaving the back storeroom where the employees had a small changing area and break tables. Her hair now in a ponytail was swinging back and forth as she hustled to her area. “Assign Selena to the group.”

“But that's past her shift.”

Selena might be a mess of a woman, but she could easily handle a large group with a couple of other waiters as support. And she could probably use the tips. “Let me talk to her.” He didn't know anything about her personal life. On purpose. He sure as hell didn't need that as a distraction. But, based on her hurried state and constant need to wear flip flops, he assumed she could use the money.

Lenny hesitated long enough to catch Brogan's attention.

“Was there something else, Lenny?”

Lenny cleared his throat. “I was going to offer to work the group too. It's past my shift as well, but if you didn't mind—”

“Are you needing to pick up some extra cash?” The young guy's beat-up car came to mind. Brogan might not have always driven a nice, luxury vehicle, but he kept his possessions as nice as possible. Lenny looked as though he played bumper cars for fun.

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