A Man For Marley Read online

  Hunter had always been car crazy, wanted nothing more than to drive, fix up, build, and race cars. He read everything he could get his hands on about racing. Would spend his free time hanging around the amateur dirt tracks, getting to know the drivers and absorbing all the information he could stuff in his car hungry brain.

  When his mother got sick and died from cancer, the urge to leave was almost overwhelming. The house became even more of a prison. He and his father rarely even spoke to one another. Hunter stayed out of the house as much as possible, and his father sank deeper and deeper into depression. As soon as the ink dried on his diploma Hunter fled for the racing circuit and never looked back.

  Now he had come full circle, right back where he started. How could his father do this to him? He had told his father that he wanted nothing to do with the bar. He never wanted the responsibility of owning a business. Hell, he didn’t even want the responsibility of a permanent address.

  If that was so, then why was he moving his things into the apartment upstairs and thinking about buying a bed? Hunter pushed the argument to the back of his brain. He would give it a try for now.

  Three quarters of a million dollars was an awful lot of money to just walk away from.

  And then there was Marley.

  She obviously had a chip on her shoulder when it came to him. He had never run into trouble with women before, but he seemed to crash and burn every time he opened his mouth around her. Maybe she hated men in general?

  He watched as Marley finished her conversation with a smug grin and hung up the phone. She wrote something down on a sheet of paper and filed it away. That was something new. Seamus had one of those old fashioned, brown, accordion folders that he kept all his records in. Hunter took his eyes off Marley for the first time to get a better look at the room. There was a filing cabinet, a computer, and even one of those combination printer/copier/fax machines.

  The walls were painted a warm yellow color, and there were two chairs across from the same worn out desk. There was a mini-fridge in the corner, and a radio on top of that. The office was small, but had a professional feel to it.

  Hunter got the feeling that there were probably more changes made to O’Malley’s than met the eye.

  He was about to say as much to Marley when she looked up and noticed him standing in the doorway.

  “Oh, when did you get here?”

  “While you were chewing some poor slob out. I haven’t been here long.” Hunter sauntered in and sat on the edge of the painfully clean desk.

  “That poor slob cheated us out of three kegs of beer. Apparently he didn’t think that I would miss them.”

  “So what happened?” Hunter asked, leaning forward. He didn’t really care that much about kegs of beer, but he wanted to get another dose of her sweet fragrance. Definitely raspberries.

  “He’s bringing over our kegs personally, and giving us a case of scotch on the house,” Marley said smugly.

  “You must have really scared him.” Hunter leaned in even closer.

  “I doubt it was me, probably the thought of us changing to another distributor scared him more.”

  Marley pushed herself back in her seat. “We do pretty good business and have been around for a long time. Seamus always stuck with him no matter what he was charging, but that doesn’t mean I have to.”

  “Are you going to change things that much?”

  Hunter didn’t know why the thought bothered him.

  He’d been complaining about the fact that nothing ever changed; now he was feeling funny because she was talking about changing things. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Probably not, but I’m not Seamus, and I’m not going to be taken advantage of just because I shook hands with someone’s father twenty years ago. This guy does charge more, but he is usually very reliable, and has always come through for us. I don’t mind paying a bit more for service, but I’m not going to get cheated just because they know Seamus is gone.”

  Hunter felt a punch in his gut at the mention of his father’s passing. He saw an equal reaction in Marley.

  He was beginning to realize that he might not be the only person who lost a father here. He moved closer to her and put his hand on hers.

  “You really miss him, don’t you?” Hunter asked softly, turning her hand over and rubbing her palm gently with his thumb.

  “More than you can imagine,” Marley said, blinking her eyes and looking away from him.

  “I didn’t realize you two were that close.”

  “He was the kindest, gentlest, most giving man I have ever met. I’m going to miss him.”

  “Was he like a father to you?” Hunter had to find out. He knew it was probably rude, but he wanted to know.

  “I guess. I never had a father.” Marley pulled her hand away and got up from behind the desk. He could see her pull her self together, pushing the thoughts away. “Come on out front, I have to stock the bar for tonight. I’ll show you around.”

  Hunter missed the feeling of her small hand in his.

  Her hands were soft to the touch, but he could feel the strength in them. “I grew up here, I think I know my way around.”

  “You may be in for a few surprises, then.” Her smile still held traces of sadness.

  Hunter figured that something was up, but was in no way prepared for the changes he saw. The interior of the bar was much lighter than he remembered it.

  The ceiling that had been weathered and dark from years of cigarette smoke was replaced by one of beaten copper, with fans that kept the air circulating.

  There were TVs in the corners of the room, and colorful lights over the tables.

  He turned around, stunned by the transformation.

  There were booths along the walls, and one right next to the bay window that looked out on to the street.

  Small, round tables had been placed near the bar, and high backed bar stools surrounded them. More stools were lined up against the gleaming teak bar. At least that itself hadn’t changed. The “Thank Goodness It’s Guinness” posters were still on the walls, but now they were interspersed with pictures of rolling hills, castles, and sea walls. There was even a space in the back of the room for a small band.

  Hunter finally found his voice. “Do you have live music here now?”

  “Every Friday and Saturday. We don’t bother the rest of the week because it’s mostly college kids and they’re too busy trying to hook up to pay attention to a band.”

  Marley was behind the bar, checking things off a list she held in her hand.

  “So, do you still think it’s the same as the last time you were here?”

  Hunter cringed at the smug tone that all but said, “I told you so.”

  “When did Pops start catching up with the twenty-first century? I can remember him saying ‘O’Malley’s has been this way since 1909, it’s not going to change now!’ whenever someone suggested he do anything.”

  “Seamus’ health started going down hill a little over three years ago, he pretty much transferred the day to day running of the bar to me then. After the first year, I convinced him to let me get the place painted and open it up a little bit. We started attracting some college kids, and word spread. Our business increased, so we started hiring bands on the weekends. Now we are turning a steady profit most nights.”

  “Wow, I still don’t believe it. Boy, I bet my dad’s old cronies weren’t happy.”

  “They were a little grumpy when we had to close down for a few weeks for remodeling, but they were back in their spots as soon as we reopened. Most nights it doesn’t get busy until around nine or ten, and they’re long gone by then, so our expanding business doesn’t really affect them.”

  Hunter walked around on the gleaming hardwood floor, trying to reconcile this new, improved O’Malley’s with the pub he grew up in. Apparently, he’d missed more than he knew by not visiting the bar when he came home to see his father. Looking at Marley bending over to wipe off a smear on the brass bar rails, he tho
ught maybe he’d missed a lot.

  He turned the corner to walk down the hall to the bathrooms and stopped dead in his tracks.

  Here was the biggest change of all. The entire wall leading to the bathrooms was lined with pictures, magazine pages, and newspaper articles. About him.

  He stared, absolutely astounded at the number of pages on the wall. His face, at various stages of his career, looked back at him from at least thirty different pictures. Every race that he’d ever placed in was posted on this wall for everyone to see.

  “He was extremely proud of you, you know. He has every scrap of information available up here. If you win too many more races we’ll have to move on to the bathroom walls.”

  Hunter turned to see Marley leaning against the wall watching him. He didn’t know what to say.

  “I never knew. Pops never said anything about my racing. I know he was disappointed that I didn’t want the bar, but he helped me get started anyway. I always knew my father loved me, but I never thought he was proud of me.”

  Hunter looked back at the wall, trying to pull himself together. There was a blurb from a newspaper down south that covered the dirt tracks, and mentioned his second-place finish. It was ten years old. Pictures of him holding trophies in one hand and gorgeous women in the other were alongside pictures of him in his car, sweaty and elated.

  “He had a scrapbook, but as you started moving up in the standings and started getting more press coverage he decided to put his collection up here instead.”

  “I need to get out of here for a minute. I’ll be back tonight.” Hunter bolted out the front door without caring how he looked.

  —

  Marley watched Hunter fly out the door. She could have sworn she had seen tears glinting in his eyes before he turned away from her. That didn’t gel with her image of him, but everyone had a soft spot. He could love his father and still be a faithless playboy.

  It had felt good to give him a surprise or two after the shock he gave her by cornering her in the doorway. She was going to have a harder time handling her reaction to him than she thought. There was something about him that made her want to eat him whole, just to see if he tasted as good as he looked.

  She couldn’t believe she was even thinking that way. She knew better than to get involved with someone like him. Marley was smarter than that. She wasn’t going to be left with a broken heart when he went back to racing in December. All she wanted was for him to keep his end of the bargain so her dreams wouldn’t be handed to some idiot in Iowa. She didn’t need love, or even lust from him.

  Or did she?

  She knew that eventually she wanted to settle down and have a family, but she was only twenty-four. She still had to finish school, and get the bar running the way she wanted it. It would take a long time before she would feel comfortable leaving the bar in someone else’s hands long enough for her to raise her kids. When she had kids, she was going to stay home and be a real mom to them. No child of hers was going to have to come home to an empty house and make her own peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner because Mommy was 'working'.

  Marley pushed the painful memories aside. She was nothing like her mother, and she’d make damn sure she never would be. Her mother would have already jumped in bed with Hunter and screw the consequences. Vivian Hawk had never thought past the next day, the next beer, or the next man in her entire life.

  Marley had everything planned out. She thought about her plan as she sliced the garnishes. After she graduated and got control of the bar, she would work for a few years to build up a nest egg. Then, when she had all her plans in place, she would find Mr. Right and settle down and have children.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself in the meantime, did it?

  Marley stopped dead in her tracks. Where had that come from? She put down the knife she was holding and thought for a second. Just because she didn’t want to end up like her mother didn’t mean she had to lock herself in a convent. Her mother fell in love with every man she met; Marley could enjoy Hunter’s body without falling in love with him, if she was so inclined couldn’t she? After all, she knew he was leaving, she knew he was a playboy, and she knew he was only out for a good time, not a serious commitment. With that information firmly in place, why couldn’t she just enjoy a fling with him?

  No! He might be some serious eye candy, and just his presence could make her heart do the Cha Cha, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be another notch on his belt. She could ignore her body’s reaction; it was just chemical, pheromones or something. She had a plan, and he wasn’t in it.

  With her priorities back on track, Marley finished with the garnishes, got the ice for the bar, and stirred up the mixes for the frozen drinks. By the time she had the bar set up the way she liked it, the cook, Oscar, had come in and organized the day’s specials.

  “Do you have the specials board ready yet?”

  Marley called over her shoulder when she heard someone shuffling bar stools behind her.

  “No, and I really don’t think you want me to either. I can’t cook to save my life,” Hunter said from the bar.

  Instantly her body hummed to life at the sound of his voice. It was like he turned on a switch inside of her that flooded her body with lust. Pull it together girl.

  “Oh, I thought you were Oscar. I didn’t hear you come back.”

  “I came in from the apartment. I figured the front door would be locked so I didn’t even bother trying.”

  “Oh, well, if you want to get your stuff unpacked you have plenty of time. I won’t need you at the door until around seven. It’s mostly regulars from noon until five.”

  “I already unpacked. I travel light. You never know when you might need to sleep in the truck, and I don’t want to take up precious room with too much baggage.”

  “I’m not a big fan of baggage myself,” Marley said wryly. He looked composed now, but something about his eyes made her think his composure might just be a veneer. That wasn’t her problem. He would have to deal with his grief in his own way, just like her.

  Even as she thought that, she found herself moving from behind the bar to put her hand on his.

  “You know Hunter, Seamus always knew you loved him.” She didn’t know what made her say something so personal, but the words were out and she couldn’t take them back.

  “I know. I thought about that as I was walking around the old neighborhood. He wasn’t the type of father who showed a lot of affection, but I always knew he loved me, and I guess I made sure he knew I loved him too.”

  Hunter ran his free hand through his sun-streaked hair and leaned back against one of the tables near the bar. The motion caused firm muscles to flex beneath his snug T-shirt, and Marley felt her stomach drop at the sight. He had not one spare ounce of flesh on him, and Marley had the irrational urge to see if his abs were as tight as they appeared.

  She dropped his hand and went back behind the safety of the bar. He was like grain alcohol: one sip would be potent enough, too much could kill you.

  Just standing near him was enough to make her toes curl inside her sneakers, she couldn’t imagine what would happen if she actually gave in to the fantasies running rampant in her brain.

  “After my mom died, Pops was never the same. He never got over her.”

  “I know. He used to talk about her so much that when I first started working here I thought she had just died. I didn’t realize she had been gone for almost eight years.”

  “You’ve been here, what? Five, six years?”

  “A little over six years.”

  “Huh, you’ve been here right under my nose for years and I was too stupid to see it.”

  “Hey, you said it, I didn’t,” Marley said, trying to break the mood. He was watching her every move from his position against the table.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He finally sat up straight.

  “In all the years I’ve worked here, you never stopped into the bar once. Maybe if you h
ad shown some interest in your family history, your father wouldn’t have made such a stipulation in his will.”

  Marley scrubbed the bar top furiously. She had been thinking about this since she saw Hunter at the lawyer’s office this morning. She might as well make her feelings known now so they didn’t blow up in her face later.

  “Hey, this isn’t my fault,” Hunter protested. “I didn’t ask to be stuck here for the next six months. Do you realize what this is going to do to my career?”

  “That’s my point. If you had made more of an effort before this, instead of being so focused on your career that you could only visit your father twice a year, maybe he wouldn’t have felt it necessary to shove it down your throat.”

  Hunter leaned over the bar, right in Marley’s face.

  “You can’t pin this on me. My dad made up his own mind about everything. If he thought it was a good idea there was no changing his mind, even if I had spent more time here.”

  “Don’t you try to intimidate me, I may be shorter than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you push me around.” Marley stood on the crate she kept behind the bar to reach the top shelf. It put her eye to eye with Hunter.

  “You seem to be the one doing all the pushing around here,” Hunter shot back.

  “Well maybe I think you need a little push to get moving.”

  “Uh, I hate to interrupt, but it’s almost noon and Old Thomas gets really cranky when we don’t open the doors on time,” Oscar said from the door of the kitchen.

  “Thanks, Oscar, I must have lost track of time. I’ll open the doors now.” Marley shot her most evil glare at Hunter; this conversation wasn’t over yet.

  “Hunter O’Malley, meet Oscar Rivera, one of the best cooks in the East Village, if not all of Manhattan.”

  “Hey, you’re the racecar driver, right? Seamus’ son? I’ve seen your face like a million times now.”

  “Yeah, I can see how that could happen.”

  Marley was relieved when Oscar took Hunter back in the kitchen to make him a sandwich. She knew she was out of line blaming the whole situation on Hunter, but something about him just seemed to provoke her.