Page 12 of Tee’d Up For Trouble

He nodded. “That sounds good, love.”

I blinked my tears away. Liam didn’t need that.

“Always wants something that’s not on the menu,” I grumbled good naturedly.

Liam took the bait. “Aye, you know me, Dee, nothin’ but trouble.”

Tears were rolling down my cheeks when I made it to the kitchen. Ronan looked at me with concern. I shook my head. “It’s Liam,” I whispered.

Ronan hugged me. Then, I felt Saoirse's slender arms join in the group hug.

I pulled away, sniffling. “He wants a milk tea.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Always wanting what’s not on the menu.”

“Considering we don’t have a menu….” Saoirse flipped her braid airily and went back to her workstation, where she was putting whipped butter into tiny bowls for the dinner service.

I went back out to let Liam know his tea would be out shortly when I stopped in my tracks.

Cillian O’Farrell had just darkened my door. I felt the old anger and humiliation coil in my stomach. Three years I’d given this man, and the bastard had cheated on me, discarded me, and made me feel like I wasn’t enough.

Maggie hadn’t been able to stand the sight of his arse, and I’d kept on telling her he was just misunderstood.Feckin’ nonsense!

Following him was the woman I’d found him balls deep in. Aoife Kelleher worked with him at his uncle and Da’s big-time real estate development company. Her laugh came first—high-pitched and brittle, as the manicure on her hand rested possessively on his arm. Then came her voice, as sharp and grating as a crow’s caw.

“Dee, love, how are you?”

I used to know her, and we were friendly; after all, she was the colleague of my boyfriend and then-fiancée.

“Feckin’ fabulous,” I replied and arched an eyebrow at Cillian. “And to what do I owe your presence at The Banshee’s Rest?”

Cillian smiled. He was a handsome devil even if he was every inch the smug bastard I’d spent years of my life loving and far too long regretting.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Aoife continued as she moved to the bar and then put her finger on it as if testing for dirt. “It’s just so quaint, isn’t it, Cillian?”

I walked to the other side of the bar. “Liam, your tea will be here in a minute,” I told him again, wanting to have something to do.

Liam turned to Cillian and Aoife. “You here to critique the décor, or are you going to order something? If not, feck off.”

I didn’t bother to suppress my smile. When it came to the people of Ballybeg, they were all Team Dee.

“Liam Murphy, why don’t you stay out of it?” Aoife snarled.

“Hey, do you see that sign?” I pointed to the one that said, “We Only Serve People We Like—Don’t Test Your Luck.”

“Stop being childish, Dee.” Cillian finally deigned to speak, his smooth slipping into the room like oil on water. “Aoife’s just admiring the…charm.”

“I’m sure she is,” Liam muttered.

I wondered how I hadn’t noticed it before, that beneath that beautiful face and handsome smile, underneath the tailored suit and blonde hair, was one of the most insincere men in Ireland.

“Cillian,” I said coolly. “I thought you’d be busy paving over some other village by now. What brings you back to Ballybeg?”

He laughed lightly like this was all some casual social call. “Business, of course. We’re just ironing out a few details before the vote.”

His tone and how he saidvotelike he had it in the bag set my teeth on edge.

The proposed golf resort project was coming up for a vote soon, and it would be decided at the county level. The developers—Cillian included—had been trying to buy up land and sway local council members while I’d been doing everything in my power to fight them. Flyers, petitions, late nights convincing neighbors that a resort would ruin Ballybeg instead of saving it—most of us in Ballybeg were certain of it.

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