Chapter One

Making resolutions, New Year’s or otherwise, was not Sophia Strombi’s typical operating procedure. She was more of a flee-the-town-she-was-born-in-and-gobble-life-up-whole girl. Now, at twenty-eight, she was back in her hometown, terrified to go to her parents’ house and tell them that they’d been right.

“They weren’t right. Not about everything,” she reminded herself. She closed her eyes and breathed in, filling her lungs with Maine’s frigid winter air. It was a shock to the system after being in Arizona for the last several years.

You’re stalling. Staring at the back door of On Dec, a popular Brockton Point pub, she willed herself to knock. She was back, but knocking on this door was the first step to making it real.

“I’m trying really hard to let you wrestle with whatever decision it is wrapping you in knots, but I’m freezing my ass off, and I really need to get inside my bar,” a deep, sexy, somewhat gravelly voice said behind Sophia.

She whipped around and came face to face with the past. Not her past. As if she’d ever been that lucky. Declan James stood on the stairs leading up the back of the two-story building, his thick, tattooed biceps folded over his chest. He wore a black T-shirt and dark jeans that fit him like they’d been designed to mold around his long, thick thighs. If you drool right now, it’s cold enough to freeze.

“Make a decision, lady. You need something?” He came down the steps until he was standing in front of her. She had to tip her head back to reach his gaze.

When she met it, his dark eyes widened, and he whispered, “No way.”

She smiled and nodded.

“Jesus Christ. Sophia?”

She nodded again. The smile that transformed his face sucked the air from her lungs. It also chased away some of the panic whirling like a helicopter in her stomach.

Before she could rethink it, she threw her arms around him and held on tight. It wasn’t until his strong arms folded around her that she realized how much she’d needed a hug. And there was nothing quite like a Declan James hug. Being held close by him made her feel like she’d fallen into an alternate universe where everything negative simply fell away. It was a strange combination of safe and sexy and completely overwhelming.

Before she could do something embarrassing, like burst into tears for no reason, she pulled back. She hated how close to the surface her emotions were.

Declan dropped his hands as if her skin were on fire. He shoved them in his pockets and frowned. “What are you doing here? I thought you were out west living with some guy?”

Awesome. Bet my parents told that story with pride. She shivered, and Declan pulled a key out of his pocket, unlocked the heavy metal door, and motioned for her to get inside.

It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Declan touched the small of her back in that way guys did—it meant nothing, she knew—but it warmed her immediately.

“There was more to it than some guy,” she said, trying not to sound defensive. They walked past bathrooms and two rooms that read Employees Only.

“Right. Marc said you were doing marketing or something,” he added.

The mention of her brother notched up her guilt, but it slipped away when they stepped out of the hallway. To her right was a gorgeous long wood-paneled bar that shone like the sun on ice. Sophia stilled, her breath trapped in her lungs. Could a pub be beautiful? She turned her head to see the black padded leather booths, the dark wood tables in a mix of rectangles, squares, and circles. The tables had high-backed chairs, and the benches sported plush black cushions. A brick facade behind the bar gave the pub a unique charm, and the far end of the pub had a small stage and what was likely a dance floor. It smelled like polish and something sweet.

To the left, a rectangular pass peeked into the kitchen, a swinging door beside it. She wondered how many wait and kitchen staff he had. Enough to need a manager and someone to offset his workload, according to her brother.

“You going to say anything?”

When Sophia turned to face him, she wasn’t positive, but she thought she caught a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“Declan, this is incredible. Marcus said you’d opened up a neighborhood pub, but this”—she said, gesturing with her hand and ungluing her feet from the spot where she still stood—“this is beautiful. It’s elegant but homey. Friendly and welcoming.” She already had a dozen ideas swimming in her marketing brain. One step at a time. Most days, Sophia didn’t feel like she belonged anywhere, but when it came to promotions and marketing, her confidence soared.

Shoving his hands back in his pockets, he tipped his head and gave her a smile that made her forget—for one second—that she was off men.

“Marc said you traveled a lot and tended to like the big cities, so I’ll take it as a compliment that you think my place is nice.”

She grinned and shook off the haze of unwanted attraction. It was nothing. She was only human, and Declan James was enough to test the restraint of a monk. “More than nice. It’s gorgeous.”

They stared at each other a moment, and she was transported back in time to when she’d wanted to be one of the girls Declan James helped onto the back of his bike. She’d wanted to ride off and never come back because she was sure that was the only way she’d feel free. She hadn’t ever gotten on the back of his bike, but she had escaped, and sadly, it hadn’t ever felt the way she’d hoped it would.

“What are you doing, Sophia? Does your family know you’re here? Marcus didn’t say anything to me.” He moved behind the bar and started what she assumed was prep work for opening.

Stop stalling. “They don’t know.”

He froze, hand in midair. “Your dad doesn’t strike me as the type who likes surprises. And I know they were pretty sad you didn’t make it home for Christmas again this year.” He resumed his task, grabbing lemons and limes and setting them on a cutting board on the counter below the bar top.

Her heart muscles tightened painfully with his words. She knew she hurt them. Repeatedly. But having others know sucked.

“It’s not always easy to get away for the holidays,” she said lamely, boosting herself up onto one of the stools. Especially when she’d spent most of her holidays preparing to come home. Disappointment had dripped heavily during conversations with both of her parents over the holidays. She’d wanted to tell them she was coming home for good soon enough, but a small piece of her had feared they’d gloat over being right.

He glanced up through thick lashes and arched his brows. He knew she was full of it.

“I didn’t want to come back before I’d made a name for myself,” she said, staring at the shiny surface of the bar.

She heard him set the knife down but didn’t expect his hand to cover hers. She looked up, her heart jolted, and she told it to settle down. She’d come here for one reason, and she needed to get that out. As soon as the heat of his hand stopped distracting her brain. And her senses.

“You have a name. It’s a good one.”

She pulled her hand from under his. “I wanted my own name. One that didn’t come with familial expectations and scrutiny.”

“You find it?” He went back to slicing.

“No.”

“So, I’ll ask you again, Sophia, what are you doing here? And I don’t mean here in Brockton Point, since it’s your home no matter how far you run. What are you doing here, in my bar?”

Taking a deep breath that smelled of the limes and lemons he chopped, she exhaled sharply. She’d prepared for this, knew what she wanted to say and how to make him take her seriously. Knowing that didn’t stop the wicked pounding of her heart in her throat. “I’m here for a job. I want to work for you, and before you say no, let me just say, you won’t be sorry.”

As the words tumbled from her lips, she said a silent prayer that they were true. That, even though she couldn’t be one hundred percent honest, she’d be able to make giving her a chance worthwhile for both of them.