Her Irish Boss: O'Keeley's Irish Pub: Book One Read online

  Her Irish Boss

  O'Keeley's Irish Pub: Book One

  Palmer Jones

  Sweet Blooms Publishing, LLC

  For M&A

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Also by Palmer Jones

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  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 who put 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.

  “Not exactly.” A ruddy color appeared on his cheeks. “I've been trying to find a way to ask Selena out. I thought, maybe, if we worked together on the Simmons’ party—”

  “Have you lost your mind, boy?” Brogan crossed his arms, belatedly realizing how thick his accent had turned. He didn't know what irritated him more. The fact that Lenny was a supervisor to Selena and that was utterly irresponsible or the thought of his small, wimpy hands pawing all over her body.

  “I...I...I,” he fumbled.

  Brogan narrowed his eyes.

  Lenny finally shrugged. “I don't know.”

  Brogan leaned over, coming within an inch of Lenny's pointy nose. “You are in a supervisory position as a shift manager. You cannot date anyone in this business. Everyone, including you, signed an employment contract with our sexual harassment clause highlighted. It is grounds for immediate dismissal. Do you understand me?”

  Lenny's eyes grew round. “Yes, sir.”

  The first customer opened the door. Brogan straightened and adjusted his tie, addressing the customers with as warm of a smile as he could muster. “Welcome to O'Keeley's.”

  He turned and walked toward the back of the dining room. He needed a few minutes to himself to come down from the edge of anger. Lenny was young and didn't know the way the professional world worked. He would have to learn it quickly, or he'd find himself out of a job. Some things were intolerable. Especially after four sexual harassment claims that his company had to settle over the past ten years. Three were legitimate claims that he pai
d the damages and changed his workplace policy because of.

  And the one, the most expensive one, had been a charge leveled against him.

  He knew himself and his morals. Knew that he'd never, intentionally, pursue a woman inappropriately. But she'd blinded him: pretending to be interested, plotting, executing her plan perfectly, causing their restaurant to settle the claim outside court for half his salary that year. And she'd smiled as she'd walked away.

  No woman was worth it. Lenny just didn't know that yet.

  “Mr. O'Keeley?” Selena stopped him with a light touch of her hand before he entered his office.

  He hadn't noticed her or else he could have ventured a different direction. Avoidance seemed to be his only defense.

  “Can you come to look at this?”

  “What is it, Selena?” He gritted his teeth against the smooth way her name rolled off his tongue. She didn't seem to notice as she led the way to the back of the restaurant. He'd almost refused to hire her because of his body's uncanny reaction each time she spoke. It'd happened since the very first interview. She'd shown up, wearing a tidy outfit with her hair falling around her shoulders.

  Six months later and nothing had changed.

  “I wanted your opinion.” She stopped by a table and pulled out a chair and sat down. Then stood up. Then sat down.

  Brogan crossed his arms. “Getting your workout in?”

  She rolled her eyes, a small dimple he'd not noticed before appeared along the corner of her mouth. He'd just gotten done lecturing Lenny about involvement with subordinates, and he seemed to see every little thing about this woman.

  She rose again. “Yeah. That would be the first time in a year I've had time to work out. No. The chair feels loose.” She pointed to the seat. “Try it.”

  He gripped the back of the chair and shook it. “It seems fine.” He stepped to leave. “I don't have time to play musical chairs. And neither do you.”

  “And I'm not an idiot.” The heat with which she said the words to him made him pause. Her pretty eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second.

  “I'm sorry,” he said, fascinated by her attempt to get herself under control. He knew the feeling. “I didn't mean it that way.”

  “Then—” she pressed two fingers to his shoulder, her golden eyes locked with his, “— sit.” The sharp demand in her voice seemed to startle her. She snatched her hand away and cleared her throat. “Please.”

  He sat. At that one moment, she could have told him to bark like a damn dog, and he would've. His gut twisted. Nerves. Fear. He would not lose his head over an employee again. Not when there were dozens and dozens of beautiful women in Atlanta.

  Plenty of other women who weren't employees.

  Plenty who wouldn't file a claim against his business. Because with all the other shit thrown at the restaurant lately, that would be the end of O'Keeley's.

  The seat of the chair shifted instantly. “I can feel what you mean.” Brogan stood, glad to have something to focus on besides his off-limits employee. He flipped the chair upside-down. The chair lacked one screw, causing the entire thing to become unstable. “I'll fix it. Thank you.”

  She blinked, reminding him of a surprised cat with her eye color. “Oh. You're welcome, Mr. O'Keeley.”

  For some reason, he didn't like her calling him that. It'd never bothered him before. Everyone called him Mr. O'Keeley. They called his younger brother Chef and his youngest brother, Cathal. The lazy sot didn't get a title.

  Taking the chair, he left the dining room, happy to have a few minutes to himself before his brothers arrived for their Monday lunch meeting. They always met on Mondays to accommodate Rian's travel schedule. He'd flew back to Atlanta from wherever he traveled on Sundays. And Cathal, well, Brogan wasn't too sure what the hell Cathal did most of the time besides pick up women and drink whiskey. He occasionally put his degree to use and played lawyer.

  After fixing the chair, Brogan tightened his tie and left his office to find Selena. He was still her boss. Even if he didn't want Randy Simmons in his restaurant, the forty-guest party would bring in a good-sized tip.

  Lenny stood with an arm propped up on the bar, talking to Selena. He touched her on the shoulder, his hand lingering far too long.

  Brogan slowed in his stride. Annoyance and anger flooded through his veins. He couldn't pinpoint what bothered him more. The fact that Lenny was opening himself and the company up for a lawsuit or the fact that Selena might be interested in the little turnip.

  Not that Brogan had any interest in making a play for her, but he still hated the thought of another man touching her.

  The dark side of his brain didn't give two damns that initiating a personal relationship with her meant trouble. Very expensive trouble.

  He'd have to hand it to Lenny, though. The boy knew exactly how to get himself fired.

  “Brog,” Rian called as he approached from the back hallway. “How's it going?”

  Brogan crossed his arms, the suit pulling tight across his back. “I'm trying to figure out why I promoted that piece of shit who's hitting on Selena.”

  Rian scanned the restaurant. “Selena? Not sure I've met her. Does he not know how it works once you're in a position of power? It puts every female in your business off-limits.” He shrugged. “Or male. Can't assume things these days.”

  “He does as I just laid it out for him not ten minutes ago.” Brogan moved toward them as Lenny pulled out his phone. Getting her number? Workplace friendships were fine. What employees on the same level did outside of work was their own business. But in his restaurant, during work hours, was his business. His liability. His shitty reminder about how gullible he'd once been.

  “Lenny. Selena.” Brogan looked between the two of them. “Is there a problem?” His eyes cut back to Lenny. That unattractive red color came back into his skin again as he fumbled with his phone and began to stammer. He'd thought he could teach the boy some managerial skills. But if he were hitting on Selena, he'd be fired before his first paycheck hit the bank.

  “Mr. O'Keeley, did you fix the chair?” Selena's gaze held his for a long moment, long enough that he'd almost tuned out the bumbling, incoherent Lenny beside him.

  “It's not what it looks like,” Lenny finally managed to stammer out. “I wasn't, I mean, she asked me about going to the movies.” He nodded his head so vigorously, it might have shaken itself off his shoulders.

  At Selena's sharp intake of breath, her eyes widening, Brogan knew the truth. He focused his wrath, and frustration, entirely on Lenny. “Do you want to try that again?”

  Lenny's eyes begged Selena to go along with it. It was pathetic if nothing else. Had she really agreed to go on a date with him in the first place? If this was the best Selena could do as far as a date, his impression of American men just sank lower.

  Ignoring Lenny for the moment, he faced Selena, blocking Lenny from her view. “Did you ask Lenny on a date?” She opened her mouth and leaned to try and see around Brogan, but he shifted. “You don't need him to answer. Yes or no. Did you ask him out?”

  Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip and pulling his attention away from his annoyance for a brief second. He slipped his hands into his pockets to quell the urge to reach out to her.

  “No,” she whispered so low he almost missed it.

  “Did he ask you out?”

  Lenny tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. O'Keeley—”

  Brogan held up his hand, and Lenny stopped. Rian sat at a nearby table. Get the man a bag of popcorn, and he'd have a full show to watch. Rian owned a third of the restaurant. The least he could do, besides create the menu, was to help out with the employee drama. But both his brothers had volunteered Brogan for the position. They argued that he was so used to bossing them around, it was a natural personality trait.

  “Yes,” Selena whispered even softer. Then she mouthed, “Don't fire him. Please.”

  He should. Fire him on the spot like he'd done to the employees earlier. Make an e
xample. Why didn't she want him fired, though?

  He snapped around to face Lenny. The boy had shifted from a red face to pale. Brogan rolled his eyes. “Don't go fainting on me now.” He pulled out a barstool and shoved Lenny into it.

  “Please don't fire me. I promise I won't do it again.”

  “You're right. Starting next week, you will never manage a shift that Selena is working.”

  Selena set her hand on his arm. His muscles contracted automatically from the contact. Like before when she'd pushed him to sit in the chair, her hands snapped away, and the smallest gasp escaped her lips.

  Brogan tilted his head toward her, waiting, wishing she'd touch him again and hating himself for it.

  She rubbed the palms of her hands together. “I can't work at night, Mr. O'Keeley.”

  Again, he wanted to tell her to call him Brogan, but he'd be no better than Lenny. “I know. Lenny will work at night if he wants this job.”

  Lenny nodded. “Absolutely. Again. I'm sorry.”

  Brogan shifted to leave, but Selena stood in his way.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Her body leaned a fraction closer, enough, so he smelled a sweet scent that suited her. Sweet like the honey color of her hair. Eyes. Skin.

  Back to being in charge and putting a barrier up, he crossed his arms, and his voice deepened. “You can thank me by being on time and ready to work tomorrow.” He took two steps toward Rian before stopping. “Oh, and if you want a pretty decent tip, there's a large party coming in at seven. It's yours if you want it.”

  “Wow. Yeah. Let me see if I can make arrangements.” She began to move away but pulled up short. “Do you mind if I go make a few phone calls so I can be free tonight?” She pointed to her section. “No one is in my area yet.”