EVEN THE QUESTIONNAIRE mocked Liam as he sat at a table in the reception area of Paddock’s Gym scribbling down the required information. After the usual bio statistics, the hard questions followed.
Describe your exercise routine. Answer: Zilch.
He’d never been into working out. He’d been too busy with the kids and Kitty and the pub to devote any of his time to it.
How long and fast can you maintain aerobic exercise?
Oh, let’s see, he could chase down Mikey and Cleary in no time when they were little. He still ran the bases okay when the O’Neil clan got a pickup game going.
How much can you bench-press?
Answer: A twenty-pound bag of flour? A few cases of beer.
Taking a break, he studied the reception area. Posters of men and women exercising were hung on various walls, but the space to his right caught his attention—it displayed firefighting and cop pictures along with memorabilia from each department. In the center was a framed certificate from the mayor thanking the business for its donation to the 9/11 widows fund and was accompanied by a big picture of the Twin Towers as they’d once been.
The buff blond guy with the toothpaste smile looked up from the paperwork on his desk. “Done?”
Liam blew out a heavy breath. “This isn’t gonna happen.” He nodded to the back rooms of the gym. He’d seen the athletic guys come and go. “I think your outfit’s too advanced for me.”
The trainer—Jase Smith—checked him out. “You don’t seem to be in bad shape.”
“Looks can be deceiving.” He stood and held out the clipboard. “Thanks anyway.”
“Hey, where you going?”
Turning, Liam saw the reason he was at Paddock’s Gym come into the reception area. In sweatpants and a muscle shirt, with her hair in a ponytail, Sophie Tyler was frowning at him. He took a minute to admire her five foot, eight inch frame. She was solid muscle. Beautiful solid muscle. Which only fueled his feelings of inadequacy.
“This is a mistake. I don’t work out, I can’t run very far and I’m too old for it all.”
Her eyes, when they took him in, were the color of dark gray smoke; she tweaked his biceps. “You probably aren’t as bad as you think. I see you lift a lot of heavy things at work.” She’d been officially employed at the pub for a week. “And I know you go hiking with the boys. Cleary told me when he came in after school one day.”
Liam couldn’t admit to her, here in the world of Greek God clones, that the hiking he did was with his Cub Scout troop. He was a freaking Cub Scout leader. It was bad enough that his brothers called him Robbie, after Baden-Powell, the founder of the scouts, and made all sorts of comments about how wholesome he was. When Kitty was alive, he used to laugh it off. Lately, it rankled him.
“Come on.” Sophie tugged at his arm. “I’ll work out with you.”
“God no, I’d die of embarrassment.”
Smith stepped forward. “I can help you, Mr. O’Neil.”
Ah, so the guy knew he was the Second Lady’s brother. Liam didn’t often capitalize on that relationship, but what the hell—he needed help. “Appreciate that.” He turned to Sophie. “Only if you go somewhere else so you don’t see my pathetic attempts at getting in shape.”
Her grin was mischievous. “Mmm. I think the view is pretty damn good, Liam O’Neil.”
“Go.”
Whistling, she wandered into another room and Jase led him into the gym proper and over to the treadmills. “We’ll start you out slow. You’ll be up to speed, so to speak, in no time.”
Liam went at an easy pace. His brothers also teased him he had only one gear—second—so slow was good. Jase came back after ten minutes and increased the speed. The second ten had Liam breathing hard and sweating, but it felt good. He was glad he had let Sophie talk him into this...
She’d worked four shifts in the last week and they all liked having her around. She didn’t complain about late orders or short handedness was great with the customers and real easy on the eyes. She filled out the green pub T-shirt just fine, and her hair intrigued him. She wore it tied back most of the time, like now, but he’d seen it down around her shoulders on occasion. He’d been thinking about those pretty strands when they finished with the lunch crowd today, and she’d come in the kitchen; Liam and Dylan were conferring on orders for next week.
“You wanna eat?” Liam asked, hoping she’d stick around. “I made boxty stuffed with portabella mushrooms for dinner. You could have some now.”
“Don’t tempt me. I love your potato pancakes. But no thanks, I’m gonna go work out.”
“Where?” Dylan asked.
“A place called Paddock’s over on Lafayette. I’ve been going there for years.”
Dylan nodded to Liam. “You’re looking for a gym, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” He still hadn’t followed up on his therapist’s suggestion.
Sophie’s face brightened and he noticed how her complexion was just about perfect. “Paddock’s is great. All the smoke eaters go there and some cops.”
“Then no, thanks. I don’t want to shame the family name.”
“They’ve got great help. I could set you up with my favorite trainer.”
“Go ahead,” Dylan put in. “I’m free; I’ll get Mikey off the school bus.”
“I don’t have gym stuff. Maybe I’ll tag along next time.”
Crossing to the back closet, Dylan dragged out old sweat-pants and sneakers that were clean but nobody could remember whose they were. He tossed them at Liam. “What’s your next excuse?”
“All right...”
“Time for weights, Mr. O’Neil.” Jase had returned and glanced at the treadmill. “You did okay here for the first time. You must do some exercise.”
“Just at work and playing ball with my kids. And call me Liam, please.”
“Let’s check your muscle mass.” The trainer led him to another room with hand weights.
“No machines?” Liam asked.
“The guys prefer these.”
Hesitant, Liam glanced around the weight room. “Sophie’s the only woman in here.”
“Yeah. A few female firefighters belong here. They’re rabid about their fitness. Sophie can out-bench a lot of the dudes.”
“Great.”
Jase smiled. “She’s something, isn’t she?”
“I’m beginning to find that out.”
After he did a pathetic ten reps of arm curls, bench-pressed an embarrassing poundage of weights and practically killed his thighs doing squats, the trainer told him to take a break and showed him how to stretch. From across the room, Liam watched Sophie.
Cliché though it was, she was poetry in motion. She was lifting the free weights and by the looks of the barbells, she was off the charts. No wonder she had muscles to die for. But they weren’t masculine. Taking in her sturdy, supple form, he doubted anything about her was. Over the last week, he’d wondered about her life, her past and what she wanted for the future. He was thinking about asking her to go for coffee after this session when the big guy she’d been at lunch with the other day came into the room and strode over to her.
Sophie’s face bloomed with smiles when she saw him. He kissed her cheek and briefly cupped his hand behind her neck. The intimacy of the gesture was loud and clear. Guess she was taken.
Turning away from the sight, Liam braced his arms on the wall. That was okay. A girl like Sophie Tyler would never be interested a staid dad—a freaking Cub Scout leader—like him.
For some stupid reason the thought made his heart bump in his chest.
o0o
“I’M THROWING IN the towel,” Liam told Sophie after he finished his stretches and found her in another room; she was winding down on the treadmill, keeping an eye out for Liam and talking with Joe.
“Yeah, me, too.” Flicking the switch on the machine, she climbed off. “Have a good workout, Joey.”
“I will, babe. Don’t forget Sunday.”
She accompanied Liam to the locker rooms, but before she went into the women’s side, she looked over at him. His face was flushed and his eyes were even bluer today because he wore navy sweats. She liked the way his damp hair curled at his neck. “You look good.”
“Don’t lie to spare my feelings. I’m whipped.”
“Too whipped to go for a beer?”
He glanced behind him. “Won’t your friend mind?”
“Why would he?”
“I...isn’t he...” He was stuttering. It was cute. “Isn’t he a beau?”
“What a nice, old-fashioned word.”
Liam looked to the ceiling. “That’s me. Just your nice, old-fashioned guy.”
“Joe’s like my brother, not my beau.” She couldn’t help smiling at the word. She didn’t ever remember hearing anyone use it. Certainly not the rough-and-tumble guys she worked with.
“Yeah?”
“Have that beer next door with me and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“You’re on.”
After they cleaned up, Liam met Sophie in the reception area. He smelled like freshly applied aftershave—the same woody scent he usually wore, and she had to stop herself from moving in close to take a deep breath of it. He thanked Jase for his time, and they headed to the café next door.
It was a gorgeous Indian summer day in the city, so they chose an outdoor table. Late afternoon was bustling with crowds of people hurrying down of the sidewalks of Lafayette Street. Out here, the sun glistened off Liam’s dark hair, showing a strand or two of gray that she found particularly endearing. When they waiter came over, he ordered a Coke.
She arched a brow. “You own a pub and don’t drink?”
“Not much. I’m working tonight, too. You go ahead though.”
She ordered a Corona with lime.
“So,” he said, his gaze direct. “What about Joey?”
“Like I told Mikey that day at the station house, me and my brother, Nate, were caught in a fire when we were little. My mom worked two jobs and was out cold for the night when something went wrong with the space heater.” She cleared her throat. “The FDNY got us out, but not her.”
“What was her name?”
“Huh?”
“What was your mother’s name?”
“Maeve Tyler.”
“Maeve’s an old-fashioned Irish name.”
“Do you know what it means?”
“Uh-huh. Joy.” He placed a hand over hers, where it lay on the table. “Tell me the rest.”
“Tom Carusotti, Joe’s dad, carried me out. He called me Sophie baby.”
“The name the guys used at the pub that morning. I wondered why you tolerated it.”
“Yeah, it isn’t sexist, just a carryover from then and a sign of affection now.” They also used it to get her out of her nightmares. “Nate and I became their project, I guess you could say. We went to live with my grandmother, but the fire department never lost touch with us. Tom’s two sons, Joey and Tommy, were like brothers to me when we were growing up. I’m closest to Joe. “
“What’d the fire department do for you as their project?”
She recounted their visits to her and Nate in the hospital, how they sent their priests to comfort the two orphaned kids, and after they were released, the guys rotated taking them places for years. “It was like I’d found hundreds of fathers. They were—are—my family.”
“I can see that.”
“When I was old enough, I wanted to join the FDNY.”
“What year was that?”
“It was 1996. Things were tough in the department for women. The male barrier had been broken, but females were still treated like dirt. The courts forced the issue, though. I had it easy in comparison to most of the others because of the Carusottis and the rest of the guys who’d taken me under their wings. Even then, two men objected—and their wives—so they transferred out of our house.”
“That’s quite a story. How’d your grandmother feel about you becoming a firefighter?”
“She wasn’t happy, but she died before I got in.”
“Another loss.”
She squeezed his hand before she drew hers away. “Which you know all about.”
Leaning back, he gazed out at the street. A bus rumbled by and its exhaust puffed out smoke. “Afraid so.”
“What was her name?”
“Mary Katherine. Kitty for short.”
“The love of your life.”
“How do you know?”
“It shows on your face when you just say her name.”
“I met her when we were in eighth grade—we were both fourteen years old. We got married as soon as we graduated from high school. We had a great life, though it took us a while to have kids.” She saw his Adam’s apple work. “I guess she had problems even then. She died of ovarian cancer. A prolonged and ugly death.”
“I’m sorry, Liam.”
He shook his head. “Look at us. Such morbid talk on this beautiful fall day.”
She raised her beer. “To fall days.”
Grinning, he clinked glasses with her. “Slainté.”
“Isn’t that cute.”
Sophie stilled and didn’t have to look to the side to recognize the mocking voice. “Hello, Ray.”
“Hey, Sophie baby.”
Ray was a paramedic. The absorption of EMS into the FDNY hadn’t been easy, and there was still bad blood between the two divisions. But that wasn’t the only reason he hated the fire department. “This another smoke eater?”
Scraping back his chair, Liam stood and held out his hand. “Liam O’Neil.”
Ray was stocky, but a lot shorter than Liam. He ignored Liam’s hand. “I’m Ray Cramden, Sophie’s husband.”
Liam’s jaw dropped.
“Ex-husband,” Sophie clarified.
“We took vows, sweetheart.”
“What do you want, Ray?”
“Just to say a friendly hello.”
It was subtle, but Liam straightened and seemed to tower over her ex. “Nice to meet you, Ray. If you’ll excuse us now, Sophie and I don’t have much time and she was telling me a very interesting story.”
Like before when he was crossed, Ray’s gaze turned chilling. “Yeah, she’s full of those.” He looked like he was going to say more, but Liam moved between him and Sophie’s line of vision so he stalked away.
Liam cocked his head toward Ray when he sat down. “Do you want to talk about him?”
“Nah. Our history is not pretty. Let’s talk about something happy. Tell me about your kids.”
His face shadowed. “Not all sweetness and light there.”
“Want to tell me?”
“Nah.” He mimicked her tone.
“So, do you know any good jokes?”
Liam looked at her hair and chuckled. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I do. There was this ventriloquist...”
o0o
MIKEY STARED over the desk at Mrs. David. He liked her, except when she called on him in class and he didn’t want to talk.
“Your son’s done well for the first few weeks of the school year, Mr. O’Neil.” She glanced from his dad to Mike. “Don’t you think so?”
He shrugged.
“Mike, we discussed this. Could you answer when asked a question?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you think you’ve done well, son?” his dad asked.
“Kinda. Not in science. I don’t like it.”
Mrs. David gave him a nice smile. “I think you’re going to have to know science if you pursue one of the jobs you wrote about last week.” She smiled at his father. “We’re having a career day in November, and the children were asked to list the top five jobs they might be interested in.”
“What did you put down, Mike?”
“Baseball player. Cook.”
“What was at the top of your list?” his teacher asked.
“Firefighter.”
His dad’s smile was big and real. Mike wished he’d smile like that more. “Ah, I see.”
“Many of the children chose that profession after our tribute on 9/11 to those who died in the Towers. And then, of course, our visit to the firehouse cinched it.”
“A lady one works at our pub,” Mike volunteered. “I like her.”
His dad nodded. “She’s a nice woman.”
“Maybe you need to try harder at science,” the teacher suggested. “Firefighters have to learn all kinds of scientific facts.”
“ ’Kay.”
“How’s he doing otherwise?” His dad touched his arm.
“I wish he were more social.”
Mike didn’t want to hear about this so he turned his head away and made himself think about other things.
“We’re working on that, Mrs. David.”
“I know. And I’m glad.”
The two of them talked some more, then it was time to go.
Mike stood when his dad did. He was in a hurry because Sophie was working at the pub today, and he wanted to see her before she left.
o0o
SOPHIE WAS WIPING up the bar when Cleary walked into the pub. He’d inherited the O’Neil looks, with dark hair that was a little too long, but the style these days. And there was devil in the boy’s blue eyes. A lot like his uncle Dylan’s.
“Hey, Cleary. How was school?” She’d been working at the pub two full weeks and had gotten to know the boy some.
“Boring.” He set down his backpack on the bar and pulled his baseball glove out of it. “Where’s Dad?”
“I think he’s at a conference with Mike’s teacher.”
Cleary’s dark brows drew together. Whereas Mikey kept things to himself, this one’s emotions were up front and center. “Still?”
“I guess. Unless they did something afterward.”
“Probably.” A sulk. Now he looked like Patrick.
She rinsed out a cloth and hung it on an aluminum bar. “Something wrong?”
“Dad promised to play catch with me today.”
“Then I’m sure he’ll be back.”
Cleary glanced at the clock. “Uncle Dylan around?”
“Just left. Some meeting at the magazine.”
Patrick came into the bar area. “Hey there, kid, how you doin’?” To Sophie he said, “Thanks for holdin’ down the fort.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have to work tonight.”
“You been a big help around here.” He frowned. “You makin’ enough money to pay your rent?”
“Yep, and then some. The pub has good tippers.”
“That we do, lass. “ He transferred his gaze to his nephew. “What’s up, Cleary?”
“Not much. Waiting for Dad.”
“Want to start your homework?”
“I wanna play catch.”
“Sorry, can’t oblige you. I have stuff to get ready for tonight.”
Cleary sulked some more.
“I can play.” Sophie watched the boy assess her. His gaze narrowed just like his dad’s did when he got thoughtful. “I’m pretty good.”
“You don’t throw like a girl, do you? I mean, you’re a firefighter.”
“Let’s go see how I throw. Got an extra glove?”
Pat put in, “In the office closet.”
“What do you say, Cleary?”
“Sure, why not?”
Cleary led her to the office opposite the kitchen, dug a glove and bat out of the closet and they went out the rear of the pub. From behind him, she noticed he already had wide shoulders; someday they’d be as nice as Liam’s.
They stopped at the alley that backed up to the pub. The noise from the street was muted out here, and it was quiet enough to hear a few birds chirping. When Cleary jogged to only twenty feet from Sophie, she hid a smirk and held up her glove. “Sock it to me, boy.”
Cleary tossed her a soft one. She caught it and returned it. Fast. And hard. Cleary stumbled back when it shot into his glove.
“Gotcha.” She gave him a knowing look. “Cleary?”
“Huh?”
“That’s how girls throw these days.”
The boy laughed out loud and increased the distance between them. He had a good sense of humor. After fifteen minutes, he asked, “You bat, too?”
“Please, don’t insult me.”
He raced over and got the bat. They were into their second half hour of pop flies and run-for-them catches; Cleary’s face was flushed, bringing out his freckles, and Sophie was sweating in her black pants and pub T-shirt. As she leapt up to grab a ball he’d thrown over her head, she caught a glimpse of Liam and Mikey standing on the porch.
Mikey waved to her. “Hey, Sophie, you’re good.”
“For a girl.” She gave Cleary a pointed look. “Let’s take a break.”
They jogged to the back porch. Up close, Liam seemed tired today, and troubled. She wondered how the conference went.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” She ruffled Mike’s hair. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Will you play with me, too, Sophie?”
She glanced at her watch. “Sure.”
Liam said to Cleary, “I have some time to help with your math project if you want.”
“Fix me a snack first?”
Sophie was about to tell him he could fix his own snack and to give his dada break, when Liam said, “Uh-huh. Let’s go.”
Their eyes met. Liam’s smile was grateful.
After she tossed the ball with Mike, they went in and found father and son pouring over a laptop computer. Off to the side were the remains of a sandwich. Still holding her hand, Mike asked, “Can I have something to eat, too?”
Liam nodded to the kitchen. “It’s on the counter in the back, honey.”
Saying good-bye to Sophie, Mike took off.
“I’ll be going now, guys.”
“I’ll see you out.” He stood and said to Cleary, “Be right back.”
On the sidewalk in front of the pub, standing in the late afternoon shadows, Liam faced her. A few feet down the street, a FedEx truck zoomed by and stopped short behind a Lexus. Horns blared, momentarily stopping their conversation.
Liam motioned to the pub. “This is above and beyond the call of duty.”
“No problem. I loved it.”
“You’re a good ball player.”
“Don’t tell Cleary, but I’m cleanup batter on the department softball team.”
He laughed out loud, a deep masculine sound, one she hadn’t heard before; it...affected her. “I’m sworn to secrecy. Still, you must have better things to do than hang out with my kids.”
“I like your kids.”
“That’s nice to hear. Cleary’s moody these days and not always fun to be around.” He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it nicely. “I need to pay more attention to him.”
“You need to pay more attention to yourself.”
His expression was puzzled.
“Just an observation. Think about it. I gotta go. I’m having dinner with Hannah.”
“When are you working again?”
“Not till Saturday. But our group’ll be in on Thursday for breakfast.”
“Oh, great. I’ll fix you something special.”
“Everything you fix is special, Liam O’Neil.” She had the urge to kiss him on the cheek but refrained. Instead she squeezed his arm. “See you then.”