Page 52 of Fallen Hearts

No dancing.

As I walked into O’Malley’s, I summoned the discipline that had been instilled during my army days and steeled myself to have more self-control than I’d had at dinner. At any time, I could have moved away, but instead I toyed with trouble, punishing myself by testing boundaries.

Dad would love her.

How many times had that thought intruded this week as I’d watched Pia interact with guests or offer advice on the renovations? He would never know what a coup de grâce it had been to hire her. Also for the hundredth time, I wondered what he’d say about my current predicament. Though Dad would love nothing more than for me to take over Heritage Hill, he also knew the reason why I became a cop in the first place. He’d agree that screwing up my pension was a bad idea. In the end, it probably didn’t matter since I was too stubborn to listen to my father, or anyone for that matter, when it came to advice in general.

There was just one person who could decide which direction my life should head, and his judgment was clouded by a five-foot-two-inch, dark-haired bombshell who was currently holding court at the bar. She and her sister sat side by side, Parker next to them, Beck showing off his drink-making skills, and a guy I didn’t recognize standing way too fucking close to Pia.

I angled my way between Pia and the stranger. Since there were no empty bar stools, I stood beside her at the bar.

“Just tryin’ to get a beer, man,” the guy said, now behind me.

That might be so, but he’d been too close. Even I could see all the way across the room the way he leered at her.

“Whatdya need?” I asked him.

“Yuengling.”

“Beck,” I called to my friend. “Yuengling bottle and my usual.”

Pia watched as I handed the guy a drink so he’d bug off.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“No idea. Tourist.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” She twisted her bar stool to face me. “You do realize your entire business is centered around tourists?”

I shrugged. Tourists were fine. Ones that looked like that and stood too close to Pia were another story entirely. But I couldn’t say that, so instead I sipped my beer and watched Beck try to impress Sophia. The guy really was a piece of work.

“Why so grumpy all of a sudden?”

Again, we were way too close. If I took one more step toward her, I’d basically be sitting on Pia’s lap.

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You kind of are.”

“I don’t mean to be.”

“What’s wrong?”

A loaded question if I ever heard one.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

She looked at me so expectantly, as if I was supposed to change my mind and tell her more. To be fair, somethingwaswrong. But there was no fucking way I could admit that to her.

“Mason?”

“Pia?”

“I think we should talk about this.”

“About what?”

She gave me a look that called bullshit on me pretending I had no clue what was going on. Parker and Sophia laughed at something Beck said. Music blared. People carried on their conversations all around us.

---