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“The margarine.” He nodded. “She thinks it’s a crime.”

  Arden’s grin was gorgeous. “Oh right. Butter lover. I’m in trouble.” She popped the lid off the container. “Do you object to margarine?”

  “Hell no. That’s what I buy.”

  “I actually prefer butter. But I don’t use much of it, and it’s hard to keep soft. Margarine’s convenient.”

  “True.” He paused. “Can I eat one now?”

  She smiled and carefully lifted a muffin out of the tin. “It’s still pretty hot, but what the heck, go ahead.”

  He slathered margarine on it, although it kind of fell apart because yeah, it was still really hot, but he managed to devour it in about two bites. “Damn, that’s good.” She handed him another one, which he eagerly accepted. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The muffins were really excellent. He rubbed his abs, enjoying how Arden’s gaze followed his hand there and lingered. Too bad his dick also took notice. “Okay, now I’m ready to work.”

  He left her apartment to retrieve his sledgehammer and crowbar. He’d burn off that sexual energy with some physical activity. He entered the small bathroom and stopped. “Hey, Arden!”

  “What?” Her voice came immediately from behind him. She must have followed him.

  “You wanna move your shit out of here?”

  “My shit?”

  “Yeah.” He jerked his head at the towels and various bottles of female potions. There was also a hairbrush, a curling iron, and a tube of toothpaste on the vanity. “It’ll get all covered with dust.”

  “Okay.” She squeezed past him into the small space and, call him an asshole, he didn’t even try to move to make room for her, enjoying the brush of her body against his. Heat sizzled in his veins.

  She gathered up all her shit. He helped by picking up the blow dryer and curling iron and followed her into her bedroom.

  He was in Arden Lennox’s bedroom.

  He almost laughed at himself. It was a thought his fourteen-year-old self would have had, and probably sprung a huge boner over. He was too old for that, way past that ridiculous crush.

  Except he had thought it, and he couldn’t help but notice her bed, where she slept, and some clothes she’d started to unpack…including a pile of lacy lingerie on the bed.

  Fuuuuuuck.

  He dumped the stuff onto the dresser and stalked back to the bathroom. It was now completely empty. After shutting off the power to the room, he rolled out plastic and duct taped it around the door, then stepped inside, and with vicious enjoyment, picked up his sledgehammer and slung it against one of the walls. The old plaster shattered with a satisfying crack.

  He heard a little scream from the hall.

  With a sigh, he turned and saw Arden staring at him with big eyes through the plastic curtain. “What?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Tearing down the walls.”

  “Why?”

  He gave her a look. “We’re gutting this room and rebuilding it. I’m going to take the walls down to the studs.”

  “Studs.” She continued to stare at him.

  One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Yeah. Don’t worry. Like I said, I’ll leave the fixtures for later in the week so you can still use them. It’ll just be ugly for a while.”

  “Okay.”

  He resumed his demolition work, slamming away at the plaster, pulling some chunks down with his gloved hands. After a while, he’d again worked up a sweat, so he yanked his T-shirt off over his head, wiped his forehead with it, then tossed it out onto the hall floor.

  The physical work made him feel good, his muscles jacked, blood pumping. He got a lot of satisfaction out of his hobby, even when it involved destroying something, because he knew how good it was going to be when it was done.

  He moved on to the tiles around the bathtub, smashing them with energetic violence.

  “Tyler?”

  He turned again at Arden’s voice. The room was full of dust, and he couldn’t see her well through the plastic. “Yeah?”

  “I’m going out for a while.”

  He paused. “Where are you going?”

  She frowned. “Out.”

  “Yeah, but where? You don’t have a car. Do you need to borrow my truck?”

  “Um, no. And I don’t think I need to explain to you where I’m going.”

  “Sure you do. What if you never come back? How will we know where to look?”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and the air around them went heavy. Shit. He shouldn’t have said that. He knew exactly what she was thinking about now, and she was probably feeling sorry for him. Fuck.

  “I’m just going for a walk to explore the neighborhood,” she said quietly. “I’ll be fine, Tyler.”

  He repressed a sigh. “Okay.”

  Okay, yeah, it worried him a little, but he had to admit she was an adult who’d been living her own life for a while, in a city far away.

  “I’ll be back in a while.” And she disappeared.

  That was probably good. He was used to working alone, most of the time anyway, unless it was an evening or weekend when Jamie was helping. He wouldn’t have to worry about disturbing her.

  Chapter Five

  Arden ran lightly down the stairs and left the building. Jamie and Mila were both at work, so it was just her and Tyler there. She made sure the front door was locked, then turned left on the sidewalk and started walking toward West Armitage.

  She had her phone and the map app so she wouldn’t get lost. Tyler didn’t need to worry about her.

  His insistence on knowing where she was going had at first annoyed her, but then he asked that question. What if you never come back?

  Memories had flooded back, things she hadn’t thought about for years.

  When she’d been sixteen and Tyler and Jamie fourteen, Tyler’s twelve-year-old sister had gone missing. It had been a huge incident in their neighborhood, well, for the entire city. People had all joined forces to look for her, along with the police. Unfortunately, the story hadn’t had a happy ending. Tara’s body had been found a week later. She’d been murdered.

  It was a shocking tragedy that traumatized so many of them. With Tyler being Jamie’s best friend, the Lennox family knew the Ramirez family well. They’d all been horrified and grieving. Arden’s parents, like many others in the neighborhood, had gotten very protective of both Jamie and her. Arden had had nightmares for weeks, and had been nervous walking to and from school for a long time.

  If she’d been affected that much, it had to have been much worse for Tyler.

  She hadn’t been close enough to him then to really know, but she did remember seeing him at the funeral, trying not to cry, and her heart had ached for him and his parents. She’d wanted so badly to go up to him and give him a hug, and had finally given in to the impulse. It had been brief, a little awkward, and had made the tears in Tyler’s eyes shine even more, although he’d bravely said, “Thank you for coming.” Other memories from that time were fuzzy now.

  So when he’d said that…about what if she never came back…it had frozen her in place. And instead of arguing with him that where she went was none of his business, she’d tried to assure him that she’d be okay.

  Was that incident still affecting Tyler?

  Perhaps a person never really got over something like that.

  She rubbed at the faint ache behind her breastbone that had appeared along with the memories, then pulled a long breath in and slowly let it out. She turned her face to the bright sun that filtered through the lacy canopy of old trees lining the sidewalk. Another beautiful summer day in Chicago.

  She admired the houses and gardens on each side of the street. The neighborhood was old, but evidently more people like Jamie had been buying houses and apartment buildings and renovating them.

  She rounded the corner onto the cracked sidewalk of West Armitage and continued walking, taking in the little shops. It was good to know w
hat was near…a dry cleaner, a pharmacy, a bank. She noted the location of a bus stop, then paused outside a used bookstore and a lot of interesting-looking restaurants—Thai, sushi, and a few fast food chains.

  She was hungry for lunch. Maybe there was somewhere she could get a sandwich, somewhere not too expensive. At the next corner, she stopped in front of a pub. The front was small but nicely kept, with red brick and dark wood, and a sign above the door that read Shenanigans in a gold, Celtic-looking font. There was also a sign in the window that said: Help Wanted.

  With a shrug, she pulled open the door and stepped inside. Cool darkness greeted her, along with a muted rumble of voices and laughter. There was no hostess seating people, so she walked farther inside. On her left, a long dark wooden bar lined the wall, a couple of big screen televisions mounted behind it along with shelves filled with bottles and glasses. Most stools were occupied.

  The pub stretched out long and narrow, with some small tables near the bar, a fireplace with some comfy-looking couches arranged around it, then wooden booths lining both sides at the back. The ceiling was high, paneled with tin squares and dark beams.

  The bar was busy.

  After surveying the place, she strolled over to one of the high stools at the bar and climbed up. She picked up a tent card sitting there, listing drink specials for each day of the week and a food menu. She perused the options—fish and chips, burgers and sandwiches, but there were a few more interesting things like pub pie, fish tacos, bangers and mash, and…cottage boxty? She didn’t even know what that was. Fish and chips sounded good…she’d take a chance on that. Her stomach growled in anticipation of food.

  Two men on her left were watching a baseball game and arguing about the Cubs’ pitcher, and a man and woman on her right held an animated conversation about something that sounded like business, while sipping beers.

  She glanced around for someone to take her order, but there appeared to be nobody working. That wasn’t good. Also probably why there was a help wanted sign in the window.

  Finally a man appeared through a swinging door at the end of the bar, carrying a tray of food which he served to the man and woman sitting near her. He smiled and nodded at Arden, so she knew he’d seen her.

  He approached her moments later, wiping his hands on a bar towel. He wore a white apron over a striped shirt and dark pants. Probably near her age, maybe early thirties, he had messy sandy hair, and almost looked like Prince Harry. Not the type she was attracted to, but she had to admit he was good-looking with twinkling eyes and a slightly wicked grin.

  “Hello, love,” he said. “What can I get you?”

  Oh Jesus, he had a faint Irish accent. She sighed. That was sexy.

  “O’Hara’s Irish Wheat is our beer special today.” He laid down a paper coaster in front of her.

  “Oh.” She blinked. She hadn’t been planning on ordering a drink but… “Okay, sure.”

  “Are you wanting lunch as well, love?” The sexy bartender pulled on a tall tap to begin filling a glass.

  “Yes.” She hesitated. “Is the fish and chips good?”

  “Everything’s good here.” He set the full glass on the coaster and winked. “The fish is freshly battered halibut and the fries are hand cut.”

  “Oh. That sounds good. Okay, I’ll have that.”

  “Sure look it.”

  She blinked again. “Uh…what does that mean?”

  “Who knows?” He shrugged. “But in Ireland, it’s an acceptable response to pretty much anything.”

  She smiled and reached for her beer. “Okay, then.” She took a swallow of the smooth, fruity beverage.

  She caught the eye of the two men arguing over the baseball game and they both gave her big smiles. She smiled back hesitantly. They seemed harmless. Friendly. Another man passed by on his way out and stopped to clap both men on the back and exchange pleasantries, calling them by name…Kasim and Brad.

  The bartender returned with a tray of glasses he started moving to a shelf.

  “Hey, Liam, can we get another round here?” Kasim called to him.

  Liam. Nice.

  Liam filled two more glasses and carried them over to the men, pausing to chat with them, hands on the bar, a smile on his face. He appeared to know them well. They must be regulars.

  A harried-looking woman appeared behind the bar, young, pretty, with red hair and freckles. Arden looked back and forth between her and Liam and immediately knew they were brother and sister. “Liam,” the woman said. “I need three more Guinness and a Bud Light.”

  Liam grimaced and moved away.

  The girl shoved her hair off her face, darting around behind the bar to grab bundles of cutlery wrapped in paper napkins and a stack of menus, then disappeared again.

  Arden turned her attention to the framed sign on the wall that read:

  In all this world, why I do think

  There are five reasons why we drink:

  Good friends,

  good wine,

  lest we be dry,

  and any other reason why.

  She smiled and lifted her beer in a small toast, then sipped. She liked this place.

  More people were leaving as the lunch crowd apparently finished up, and the place grew slightly quieter. She pulled out her phone to keep herself busy, feeling a little self-conscious by herself.

  “So, a chara.” Liam paused in front of her. “I’ve not seen you here before. New in the neighborhood?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” She smiled at him. “I grew up in Chicago, but I just moved back.”

  “And where have you been living till now?”

  “Phoenix.”

  “Ah. A touch warmer than here. Especially in winter.”

  “Yes. But I can handle Chicago winters.”

  While he was friendly, she didn’t feel he was flirting with her, so she was quite comfortable talking to him.

  “I’m Liam Murphy. I own this joint.” He extended a hand.

  She shook it. “Oh, I didn’t realize you own it. Seems like a popular place.”

  “That it is.”

  “I’m Arden. Arden Hughes. I’m living with my brother and his friends just a few blocks from here.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Arden.”

  The young waitress returned in a rush and set a hand on her hip. “Where are those drinks, Liam?”

  “Oops.” He flashed a wry grin. “Excuse me.”

  Arden nodded and watched them work together, the girl’s exasperation affectionate, both of them obviously familiar with each other and with the bar.

  Moments later, Liam served her fish and chips, sliding the big plate across the polished wooden bar. It smelled amazing. “Here you are, love. Enjoy.”

  “Thanks.”

  She picked up the cutlery and dug in, and damn, he was right…this was good. The fish was firm and flaky with a crisp batter, and the fries were golden and hot. Even the coleslaw, usually added as a passing nod to veggies, was good, with a tangy dressing.

  “How’s everything?” Liam returned when she’d made good progress on her lunch.

  “It’s excellent.”

  He winked. “Told you so.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “So what do you do for a living, Arden Hughes?”

  She made a face, setting down her fork and picking up her beer. “Nothing at the moment.”

  “Ah. We’re hiring, if you didn’t know. Though you’re probably not looking for a waitressing job.”

  She stared at him. She was looking for any kind of job. “Actually,” she said slowly. “I might be.”

  His russet eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She gave a firm nod. “I need a job. This seems like a nice place.”

  “Well, sure, I’m biased, but yeah, it’s a nice place. We have a pretty regular clientele. Things can get a bit rowdy in the evenings, but it’s rare that we have to eject anyone for being bollocksed.”

  She laughed. “Good to know.”

/>   “You’d likely do well with tips.” He gave her an appreciative look.

  Her cheeks heated. “Um. Thanks?”

  He grinned. “Any waitressing experience, darling?”

  “In high school.” She pasted a bright, confident smile on. That had been ten years ago, but so what?

  He nodded, eyes narrowed. “Well, we do need help…how soon could you start?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  He laughed. “You’re hired. Sorcha!”

  The young waitress called back, “What?”

  “I just hired another waitress.”

  Sorcha appeared, green eyes big. “Seriously?”

  “This is Arden. She starts tomorrow.” He nodded. “My sister, Sorcha.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Sorcha.” Arden stuck out her hand.

  The girl took it, studying her. “Likewise.” She didn’t have an accent like Liam did.

  “Easiest job interview I ever did,” Liam said.

  “Liam.” Sorcha set her hips on her hands. “You didn’t even interview her, did you? Did she fill out an application form? Did you get references? No, you didn’t.”

  Arden bit her lip. It had been her easiest job interview ever too. Was her newfound job going to be nixed by Sorcha?

  Liam made a face. “I’ll deal with that stuff. Don’t worry.”

  Sorcha sighed. “That’s what you said last time, when the girl you hired cleaned out the cash register and disappeared after her first day on the job. And the one before that helped herself to the Jameson and passed out in the ladies’ room.”

  Arden’s eyebrows flew up. “That won’t happen. I promise. No drinking on the job. No stealing. I’m honest.”

  “I’m sure you are.” Liam nodded.

  Sorcha frowned. “Liam.”

  “I’ll get you to fill out an application form,” Liam said. “And tax forms. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  Sorcha gave Arden a long look. “Well, we do need help. Especially this week, with the Fourth of July tomorrow.”

  Arden smiled. “Great!”

  A few hours later, she walked back into her apartment. The place smelled dusty, and plastic tote boxes filled with debris lined the small hall. Music blasted from a smartphone in the hall—Simple Minds singing “Don’t You Forget About Me.” She tipped her head. Seriously? Tyler was into eighties music? Okay, that was a good song…