Wild Night Read online

  “The nine-ounce pour?” Padraig teased.

  “You stop at nine ounces and I’m going to kick your ass. Actually, save the glass. I’ll just drink straight from the bottle.”

  Padraig laughed as he placed the wineglass in front of her, pouring red wine all the way to the rim.

  Kelli lifted it gingerly, careful not to spill a single drop as she took a big sip, then sighed dramatically. “God, Paddy. You’re the greatest man I’ve ever known.”

  Padraig rolled his eyes, then put the bottle of wine in front of her. “Just in case I’m not here the second you drain that first glass.”

  “Marry me,” she said, the joke a standard. Kelli had asked Padraig to marry her no less than seventeen million times over the years.

  And Padraig always gave her the same response. “You’re too much woman for me, Kell. It just wouldn’t work.”

  “Speaking of marriage…where’s Emmy?” Kelli asked, wiggling her eyebrows playfully at Padraig.

  Only Kelli could get away with such a segue.

  Over the course of the past year or so, Emmy Martin had become a regular at Pat’s Pub, the quiet romance author achieving what only one other patron in the history of the business had managed. Her own saved spot at the bar. Padraig had placed a permanent reserved sign at the end of the counter for her since it was the place Emmy set up camp almost daily as she wrote her books.

  The only other person with a saved stool was Pop Pop, though his was front and center, as the fun-loving man needed to be right in the thick of “the action” at the pub. Colm had figured out a long time ago that “action” meant Pop Pop had the seat with the best view of the big screen TV that hung behind the bar to watch whatever sport was in season, and a prime location for hearing any and all of the gossip shared.

  Padraig pretended to be annoyed by the question. “Ha ha, Kell. Emmy is not here tonight.”

  Kelli had been trying to convince Padraig to ask Emmy out for months, but his twin wasn’t budging.

  Padraig had been married once to Mia, the love of his life. She had been everything to him. So even now, two years after her death, his brother was still struggling to put the pieces of his life back together.

  Lately, Colm and Kelli had found one thing they actually agreed on, and that was that Padraig needed to move on with his life. He’d been hiding behind the counter of this pub for far too long.

  Plus, as more time passed, it was pretty obvious Emmy had the hots for Padraig. And while he was resistant to romance, he and Emmy had formed a pretty solid friendship.

  “Where is she?” Kelli pressed. “Emmy’s always here. She’s the reason I stopped by. I wanted to talk to her.”

  “She has a nasty head cold. I’m running some of Aunt Riley’s chicken noodle soup over to her after my shift ends.” Padraig looked at his watch. “Which is in about ten minutes.”

  “Taking her soup, huh?” Kelli asked. The woman was relentless when it came to Padraig and Emmy.

  “As friends, Kell. I always bring you chicken noodle soup when you’re sick too,” Padraig pointed out.

  “Yeah. Shit. You do. Come here. Lean closer.”

  Padraig sighed heavily, even as he did as she asked, perfectly aware of why Kelli had made the request.

  She lifted her hand and stroked the side of his face. “I just can’t get used to you without the beard.”

  Colm and Padraig had sported beards since the year they’d turned nineteen, placing a bet on who could grow one the fastest. Colm had won, something he still gave Padraig shit about, but even after the contest ended, neither of them shaved.

  Then, out of the blue last week, Padraig had shown up at the pub clean-shaven, simply telling everyone who asked why that he’d just needed a change.

  Colm wondered if it wasn’t something more, but no amount of questioning on his part—and he was a lawyer who knew how to get the goods from a witness—had produced a different response.

  “How many times are you going to touch my face?” Padraig asked, though he didn’t sound as annoyed as he pretended.

  “It’s just so strange.”

  “Good strange or bad strange?” Padraig asked.

  Kelli considered that. “Good strange. Truth is…you look super hot like this.”

  “Please,” Colm said, jumping into the conversation. “He has a baby face. You won’t catch me shaving my beard off. Don’t want to look like some wet-behind-the-ears teenage boy.”

  “You’re just jealous because you couldn’t pull off the look,” Kelli said, jumping in, as always, to defend Padraig. It was another standard operating procedure. Kelli always—as in one hundred percent of the time—took Padraig’s side in any argument with Colm, no matter what.

  “That makes no sense,” Colm said. “We’re twins, Kelli. Identical. Twins.”

  “You know, I always forget that,” she joked. “It probably has something to do with the shape of your mouth. The way it’s always open and producing that annoying sound. Distracts me from all your other features.”

  Colm grinned and doubled-down. He’d had the day from hell, and the idea of blowing off some of that steam by engaging in a battle of put-downs with Kelli sounded pretty good to him. “The only annoying sound I hear right now is—”

  “Oh, look at that,” Padraig said, glancing at his phone. “My shift just ended.”

  While Colm and Kelli loved to trash talk, it drove Padraig up the wall. His brother really was too freaking nice sometimes.

  Colm watched as Padraig’s replacement, one of the new part-time bartenders, stepped through the hinged opening. His brother filled the new guy in on who was drinking what, and then said goodbye to them, heading back to the kitchen, no doubt to grab the soup for Emmy.

  He and Kelli both took another sip of their drinks, neither of them bothering to pick up their previous conversation, and as the silence stretched, it occurred to Colm that the two of them were rarely alone together.

  Kelli took another sip and, for the first time since she’d sat down, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She also hadn’t changed out of her work attire before coming here, and he was amused by her orange sweater that featured a glittery black cat in bunny ears. She had a wide array of ridiculous clothing like that. He knew none of it fit her tastes, and that she wore it just because her kindergartners loved it.

  She was taller than most women he knew, just an inch or so shy of six feet tall. Sometimes he wondered if that was why she’d continued to hang out with Padraig throughout school. He and his twin, at six foot four, were in the minority when it came to guys taller than her.

  Her dark auburn hair had gotten longer in the last year. All through high school and their twenties, she’d kept it shorter, the thick, wavy mass barely touching her shoulders. He wasn’t sure what had prompted her to grow it out, but he had to admit—begrudgingly—it was very pretty on her. He liked long hair on women, gave him something to hold on to when he was…

  Fuck.

  He turned away from Kelli, unwilling to finish that thought.

  For a hot minute, he’d had an image of taking her from behind, his fist gripping that long hair.

  Jesus. Maybe he should lay off the Guinness.

  Kelli sighed, capturing his attention again.

  Oh, to fuck with it. She didn’t annoy him so much that he couldn’t admit she was actually very attractive. She had one of those unforgettable faces with high cheekbones, porcelain skin, full, red lips, and an ever-present twinkle in her eye that some might mistake for humor, but he recognized as mischief.

  When she’d first gotten boobs in sixth grade—big boobs, the kind that captured a young boy’s attention—Colm had fancied himself interested in her…for about three seconds.

  Unfortunately, that was the same year his dad had thought he and Padraig should sport crewcuts, for some insane reason. His interest in Kelli ended the second she’d dubbed him “Chrome Dome Colm,” the nickname sticking for the better part of the school year, before he’d put hi
s foot down with his dad that summer and insisted on growing his hair out again.

  After that, his crush on her had ended, and their rivalry had elevated from hair pulling and rude nicknames—she’d been Smelly Kelli most of first grade, thanks to him—to eye rolling, smirks, and practical jokes.

  “So you had a bad day too?” he said.

  She nodded once, then shrugged. “Lately, it’s felt like one long string of bad days. But yeah, today was especially shitty.”

  When it became obvious she wasn’t going to go into any details, he prodded. “What happened today?”

  She glanced at him suspiciously, and he understood why. The two of them weren’t small-talk friends. Actually, Kelli liked to refer to him as her best frenemy, something he hadn’t bothered to deny since the term fit. If they were talking, they were bickering.

  “My cat got sick in the middle of my new rug first thing this morning. I didn’t see it, so I stepped in it, barefoot, and slipped. I hit the edge of the coffee table, so I now have a bruise on my hip the size of Kansas. Then I was running late to work, rushing around my place like a lunatic, looking for my goddamn keys, and I spilled coffee all over my outfit.”

  “That sweater wasn’t your first choice?” Colm didn’t bother to hide his grin.

  Kelli didn’t take him to task for it. Instead, she gave him a weary smile back. “All of that happened before eight a.m. Work wasn’t much better. My hip hurt like a bitch. Believe me. Five-year-olds have sonar when it comes to sore spots. I swear every single one of the little rascals managed to bump into that exact spot today. Then one of my kids shit his pants—the smell was ungodly. After school, I had to sit through an eternal faculty meeting where we learned about a new round of budget cuts that basically ensure I’m going to continue to spend half my paycheck on supplies for my classroom.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah,” she said, lifting her wineglass and draining it.

  Colm reached over and poured her a new glass from the bottle Padraig had left in front of her.

  “Thanks. So…that’s why I’m willing to face tomorrow with a hangover. What number Guinness are you on?”

  Colm drained his beer. “That was three.” He lifted a finger and the part-time bartender came over and refilled it.

  “Damn. Four beers,” she murmured. “Wanna talk about it?”

  Padraig had asked the same question, and he’d turned his brother down. For some reason, maybe given the fact she was in the same funk and the beer was starting to work its way through him, he didn’t mind sharing with her.

  “I’m working on a few rough cases. The worst of which is a contentious divorce with a custody battle that’s going to guarantee the kids are in therapy for the rest of their lives.”

  Kelli frowned. “Young kids?”

  For her tough exterior, Kelli was pure marshmallow inside when it came to children.

  “Four and six.”

  “Fuck. Some people really shouldn’t be allowed to have children. All they do is fuck them up.”

  “Yeah. Tell me about it. I’m also representing a woman in the middle of a domestic violence case, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to drop the charges and go back with the man who put her in the hospital not once, not twice, but four times.”

  Kelli sighed. “Jesus. I don’t know how you do that job.”

  Colm gave her a crooked grin. “Hey, at least I don’t have to clean up shitty underwear.”

  Kelli tapped her wineglass against Colm’s mug. “Good point. So…are we going to be the voice of reason for each other at the end of these drinks, or are we going to take this to the next level?”

  The question was pure Kelli. He knew if he paid his tab and said good night, she’d follow suit. They’d both head home, pass out, and while they’d have headaches in the morning, they wouldn’t be too much the worse for wear.

  But if he ordered another beer, she’d finish the bottle of wine—and maybe even order another—and they’d both pay dearly at work tomorrow.

  For Colm, there was only one answer. “Next level.”

  She grinned and took another sip. “Game on.”

  They continued to bitch about their days until her bottle of wine was drained and he’d finished beers number five and six. After that, they moved on to tequila, though at least they’d been somewhat intelligent and ordered food as well. They complained about their jobs until the bartender yelled out “last call.”

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  Colm glanced at his phone. “Almost midnight.”

  “Damn. Made a critical error. Came to the wrong Collins twin for moral support. Paddy would have switched me to coffee after glass number two and poured me into a cab.”

  Colm shrugged unapologetically. “Hey, you gave me a choice.”

  “Yeah, I did.” She glanced toward the door. “I guess I should…”

  “Did you drive here?”

  She nodded. “Really only intended to have one glass of wine while I chewed Paddy’s ear off.”

  “Come upstairs. You can sleep in Finn’s room. Sheets are clean. Set your alarm early enough that you can go home, shower, and suffer through a hungover Thursday.”

  Kelli stood up. “That sounds perfect. I don’t feel like being alone tonight.”

  Colm felt the exact same way.

  Chapter Two

  Kelli was no stranger to sleepovers at the Collins Dorm—the name Aunt Riley had given the apartment above the pub. She, like so many of the Collins friends, had spent countless nights there, either after too many drinks or simply because it was late and they were tired. Now that so many of Colm’s cousins—and his brother—had moved out, there was plenty of room.

  The two of them settled their tabs, then trudged upstairs. Kelli started to turn toward the staircase that led to the third floor, where Colm’s room and what had been his cousin Finn’s room, until he’d moved out, were located.

  Colm stopped her. “I’m not tired.”

  She laughed. “Yeah. Me either. God. We’re going to be totally fucked tomorrow.”

  She was right, but he was keyed up, wired. It was strange, given how completely wiped out he’d been after work. He walked over to the couch and dropped down heavily. “Guess Darcy and the guys have already turned in for the night.”

  “Looks like.” Oliver, Darcy, and Gavin had all stopped by to chat for a few minutes as they’d returned home from work before heading upstairs.

  Kelli followed him, claiming the other side of the couch. “Do you regret your chosen career?”

  It made sense that Kelli had gotten that impression after listening to his work horror stories the past few hours. “Not a bit.”

  “I’m glad. Paddy told me once he worried about you, about how hard you work, but that he understood the reason why. That it was because of your mom.”

  “You know our mom was in foster care when she was a kid.”

  Kelli nodded. “I do.”

  Colm’s mother, Lane, had grown up in the system, and while she’d shared bits and pieces of her childhood, it was evident her upbringing had been rough. When Colm decided to study law, specializing in family law felt like a no-brainer because he wanted to do as much as he possibly could to make sure other kids didn’t suffer the same fate as his mother.

  “So it makes sense that you’d want to help kids who might find themselves in that same position,” Kelli continued. “Much as it pains me to say it, I’ve always admired you for that.”

  “Damn, Kell,” he joked. “I bet that hurt.”

  “So fucking much,” she muttered.

  “You still happy wiping shitty asses and finger painting every day?”

  “I’m teaching children how to read and write and learn to live in society as decent human beings. And yes, I’m happy with my decision.” There was no heat behind her words as she set him straight.

  “It’s an admirable profession.”

  She looked at Colm, waiting for the punch line. He didn’t have one. He knew
for a fact she had a hard job, and he also knew she was damn good at it. God knew he couldn’t spend seven hours a day in a room with twenty-eight five-year-olds for the shitty pay she got.

  “Thanks,” she said at last.

  It occurred to Colm that this was the longest the two of them had ever been alone together, and civil. Whenever Kelli came around, it was to see Padraig or his cousins, Yvonne, Darcy, or Sunnie. Any conversations between the two of them were had while surrounded by his family, and they consisted solely of playful jabs.

  “You still seeing Brooke?” she asked.

  “Yup.”

  She grinned. “Doesn’t bother you that she was totally into Paddy first? Sort of makes you the backup twin, doesn’t it? Sloppy seconds?”

  “Gross.” Colm knew she was teasing him, but he bit anyway. “She and Paddy only went out on a couple of dates. They weren’t in a relationship and they didn’t engage in more than one good-night kiss at the door.”

  Padraig had actually been the one to set Colm up with Brooke a couple months earlier. His brother had taken Brooke out a few years ago, but the dating ended the night he met Mia. After that, Padraig was a goner, falling fast and furious, for his beautiful future wife. Padraig had always been the king of love at first sight, but Colm had to admit, with Mia, his brother hadn’t been wrong.

  “Well, I guess it’s a safe bet that you, the last of the original gigolos, have done more than just kiss the girl.”

  Colm leaned back, adopting a cocky pose. “Let’s just say I’m rounding the bases at a steady pace. Always was a better ballplayer than Paddy.”

  Kelli snorted. “Rounding the bases, huh? No home run. Sounds like you’re slowing down in your old age.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that happening. Ever. That scoreboard’s about to change. Brooke and I have made after-party plans for Halloween. I’m going to spend the night at her place.”

  “Well, she’s definitely your type.”

  “I have a type?”

  “Don’t be thick, Colm. Of course you do. Blonde, bubbly, more cute than pretty, boobs a must, but brains optional.”