Chapter Six

A Surprise Rescue in the Pouring Rain

After his escapades on the beach, Gavin returned home, showered, and glanced at the clock. Three hours until Synn’s shift began at the pub. He needed to talk to her about his dream, hell, nightmare, about the feeling of being watched. Warn her to be on the lookout. He shoved an arm though his shirt with more force than necessary tearing the cloth. A large rip with frayed edges spread across the arm hole and stretched across the shoulder seam. That’s a bloody shame. Wadding the shirt up in a ball, he threw it violently across the floor.

Catching a glance in the mirror, his face reddened, and he kicked the ruined shirt. Bad temper seemed to follow him around of late. He had no idea why. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the material and shoved it into the trash. Yanking open his closet, he searched for something else to wear. Deciding it would be best to walk off this mood before reporting for work, he donned a pair of sweats and pulled on his sneakers.

He bent and touched his toes, then leaned from side to side before jogging down the path and along the beach keeping an eye on the building clouds across what was a blue sky this morning. Turning around and heading for home, he’d only gotten about half way there when large rain drops splashed on his face and body. He quickened his pace.

Thunder shook the foundation and lightning followed him as he jerked open the door to his home. Shit. Didn’t realize I’d been gone so long. Felt good though. Better take the truck to the pub. He glanced out the window. “Looks like it’s going to be an all-nighter.” His concern for Synn ratcheted up another notch. Was she all right? What if something happened…because the women were with her? They had no idea… “Oh for god sakes. Stop it,” he growled out loud climbing up the stairs to take a shower.

A few minutes later, he jumped into the truck and slammed the door. He’d seen the clouds building this morning. It’s nothing more than a thunder storm. Torrents of rain streamed down his windshield as he turned the wipers on, to no avail, they couldn’t keep up with the torrential downpour. Pounding the heel of his hands on the steering wheel impatiently did nothing. He was forced to wait out the storm.

Forty-five minutes later, his truck bumped down the dirt road throwing rooster tails of mud and water in its wake. He took the long route to work, driving by Synn’s cottage. It was dark. They evidentially weren’t back yet. The knot in his stomach tightened. Did the storm impede their way home? Why did he encourage her to make friends, get out and enjoy life? Because it was the right thing to do.

As he arrived at the pub, the rain had slackened up a bit. Bridget’s car was already there. A knot of people were gathered in the pouring rain outside the pub door. Synn was on her knees in the middle of the group. He slammed on his brakes in the middle of the road and jumped out rushing toward her. “What’s going on? Are you all right?” he bellowed shoving his way through the people. He reached for her arm, started to pull her up—she twisted away from him and hunkered over something. Leaning in to get a better look, he saw a wet ball of fur.

“I’m fine. That’s more than I can say for this poor little soaking wet mop of a puppy.” She got up from her knees holding the tawny colored ball of fur close to her chest. “Can we get a blanket or towel, please?” Synn started to pull the door to the pub open.

“You can’t bring—that inside.” No sooner than those words flew from his mouth, he regretted them. The door banged closed.

She whirled on him, her eyes blazed with anger. “You expect me to leave this poor creature out here where it’ll surely die?” Her voice stung as she continued glaring at him.

“Animals are not allowed in the pub. Health regulations. Not mine.”

The door creaked open. Mary stood in the door way, one hand fisted on her hip, the other holding the door open. “What’s all the commotion out here?”

“He wants me to leave this helpless creature out here to die.” Synn accused staring pointedly at him.

“Drama queen,” he said under his breath but held his hands out in front of him in a gesture of surrender as the rest of the crowd looked from him to Synn then to Mary. “Not true.” Gavin knew the soft heart of his mother and the trouble he was already in. “I merely stated that she couldn’t take that creature inside the pub.”

“Awww—” Mary untied her apron and wrapped it around the shivering bundle of fur, handing it back to Synn. “Take it around back. I’ll unlock the storeroom. Sure we got a box for a bed, blankets to warm the pup and dry her off. Then we’ll see what we see. But it can’t stay here.” She looked over the crowd. “Anyone know where this poor puppy belongs?”

Several heads shook back and forth. “No. Maybe a stray,” a gruff man’s voice said.

“Too young for a stray. Why it’s no more than a few weeks old.” Mary glanced at Synn holding the pup and clicked her tongue. “You’re going to need a change of clothes too.”

She looked down at her soaking wet shirt streaked with muddy paw prints and hugged the pup. “I’ll take it home,”

He grunted. “What do you know about raising a puppy?” Again, his damn mouth opened before engaging his brain. Water trickled off his hair and ran down inside his collar. He wiped his face with his hand. “Com’on. I’ll show you around back where we can put the puppy and get out of this rain.” His voice had an edge to it, and his ma glared at him.

“I’ll meet you two in the storage room. The rest of you quit standing around.” She held the door open, motioning them in. “You’re gonna catch ya death of cold. We’ll open the pub early.” Shaking her finger at some of the regulars, she said, “Don’t you be expecting to be served right away.”

“Aye…” Several men said in unison.

He blew out a breath and escorted Synn behind the pub, pulled out his keys, and unlocked the storeroom. His ma bustled in with an arm full of blankets and towels.

She held out a t-shirt to Synn. “Might be a wee bit big, but it’s dry and clean. Should do you for tonight.”

His da followed close behind carrying a huge box with a slotted lid. Tim glanced at him and shrugged. He nodded. His ma was a force to be reckoned with when she set her mind to something. Wise men didn’t stand in her way.

Synn toweled the pup as dry as she could. The pup whined and poked his nose in the air sniffing.

“Poor thing is probably starved.” Mary looked up as Quinn appeared in the door way of the store room. “Be a good lad and run over to the market. See if they have puppy food. A bag of dry kibble and a couple cans of wet. Then bring them around to the storeroom. You can pour a little kibble in the bowl we’ll have set out for it.”

Decked out in his rain gear, Quinn nodded. “Stopped by for a pint and see how Bridg’s shopping trip went. Saw all of you headed back here so I followed.” He glanced around. “Where’s Bridget?”

Tim jerked his chin toward the other entry into the pub. “She’s inside.” He put down the box. “Mary, we may have some of that Mulligan stew left over. I can fix him up a bowl.”

“Aye and you can clean up after the pup gets the runs from the rich meat. It’s too young to eat that kind of food. Remember the last stray you fed stew to?”

He took off his hat, rubbed his head, and grimaced. Wrinkling his nose, he replaced the hat. “Aye. ’Twas a god-awful mess.”

“Hey Gavin, we need a cook. Customers are hungry, and Dan isn’t due in for a couple hours.” Bridget stuck her head in the door from the pub.

He cursed under his breath, allowed a quick glance in Synn’s direction, and bolted for the door.

“Today’s specials are simmering on the stove, and loaves of bread are in the warmer.” Mary looked at her watch. “Made fresh cinnamon rolls for dessert. They’re still in the oven. Check ’em. Should be done about half past four. Anything else will have to be made from scratch.”

He nodded and started through the door.

“Son, did you confirm the band for tonight?” Tim asked helping Mary arrange a couple blankets in the box.

“Aye. And Cori is joining the band tonight. Should be a lively set with her on fiddle.” He closed the door behind him before anyone else wanted his time and set to work on the orders stacking up. All though he barely noticed when the others returned to the pub, he was ecstatic to see Dan walk into the kitchen thirty minutes early. “You’re a welcome sight.”

Dan washed his hands and tied his apron on. “Heavens lad, why didn’t you call me in? Your da is three deep at the bar.”

“I’ve barely had time to think let alone make a phone call. It’s only going to get worse. We’ve a popular band tonight, and Cori is joining them.” He took off his apron, washed up, and gave Dan a thumbs up sign. He swung through the kitchen doors to help at the bar.

Bridget had called in the whole regular staff plus part-timers. He stopped to admire Synn as she flew around the tables carrying a tray full of drinks on her shoulder like she was born to it. She delivered the drinks and returned for another tray his da had ready for her. Bridg and Katie were taking and delivering food orders, their motions a blur. An elbow gouged him in the ribs.

“Quit gawking at the lass and cover your end of the bar. Boyo,” his da instructed glancing toward the stage where the band was setting up.

Quinn rushed through the door. He waved to Bridget, strode toward the storeroom a bag of puppy food slung over his shoulder and a paper bag in his hand.

Synn sprinted after Quinn. She held up five fingers and mouthed “Be back. Checking on Storm.”

He nodded. Apparently the pup had a name. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes for a moment, opened them, then rubbed his temples. The headache didn’t abate. I need a break. Traffic at the bar slowed down, and he glanced around but his da was nowhere in sight. Damnit.

“Hey, Gavin,” a male voice called in greeting. He swiveled around to see Roger and Tara Neal, the doctor and wife he’d seen on the beach this morning. They were standing at the end of the bar. Roger held a menu in his hand. He waved and scooted over to them. “What you havin’?”

“A couple pints and two plates of your salmon,” Roger said.

“Coming right up,” he said cheerfully despite the pounding in his head.

“Wow, you have quite a crowd. Is it always like this?” Tara motioned to the crowd.

“Saturday nights are busy, but it’s crazy tonight. Popular band is here, and a talented local fiddle player will be joining in. Makes for an explosive evening.” At the expression on the doctor’s face, Gavin clarified his statement. “In a good way.” He slid the pints across the bar to the doctor and his wife. “Your food will be up shortly. Thanks for coming in.”

“Oh, it’s our pleasure.” He raised his mug as his wife ducked under his arm and scurried through the crowd to stake a claim at a just vacated booth. Roger took a drink, licked the froth from his lips. “Stout ale as good as promised.” The doctor plopped down cash.

He pushed the money back. “Of course, but it’s on the house. You saved my life.” He laughed. “I’ll have the waitress bring your dinner to your booth.”

“I’m paying for the food,” Roger said in a determined voice, then picked up Tara’s glass and made his way to the table she was guarding, turned, and waved.

A few minutes later, Tim threw up the pass through, ducked in, caught it with one hand, and lowered it in place without a sound. “Your turn.”

Eager to get fresh air and a couple moments to himself, he slipped under the counter and nearly collided with Katie at the kitchen entrance. “Sorry.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and he exited out the back door. Leaning his back against the building’s exterior, he inhaled deeply of the cool evening air and took a gulp of his water. What a night. He looked forward to Sunday.

He’d amble over to his parent’s house, enjoy his ma’s cooking, and relax for a bit. I should invite Synn—and the pup. Can’t leave it alone and she won’t come without it. Pleased at his plan, he walked around to the front of the pub and talked with customers who’d stepped out for a breath of fresh air after dancing. The door groaned as he pulled it open and held it for a couple just arriving. Warm fragrant air whooshed out of the pub, along with happy voices and lively music.

Skirting the dance floor, he saw Synn serve the drinks on her tray and start back to the bar. A man grabbed her arm, and she bent down to talk to him. His mouth was way too close to her ear. Gavin’s hands fisted. She shook her head and straightened. The man’s grip appeared to tighten on her wrist. Jerking her arm out of the man’s hand, she flashed him a triumphant smile and flounced away.

On a whim, Gavin strode across the floor, playfully grabbed her arm, and took the tray. He handed it to one of the men seated at a close table. Synn peered up at him, her eyes big as saucers.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Snatching a quick dance with my girl. Get the blood pumping. It’s good for the heart,” he whispered letting his lips caress the soft outer shell of her ear. At his signal the band segued from a lively jig to a sweet ballad and lowered the lights. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. To his surprise, she rested her head against his chest and curved into him moving with the music. Her long dark eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she closed her eyes. He savored the unexpected moment, then leaned down. “Thought you could use a break.”

“Thoughtful of you. Now if only I could give my poor feet a rest,” she replied.

With little effort he lifted her a few inches off the ground and held her to him, still swaying to the music.

She gave a quiet squeal in surprise. “Gavin. Put me down.” But there was no heat or insistence in her request.

“After the song.” He lightly brushed his lips over her hair then rested his cheek on the top of her head. The last notes of the song hung in the air a few moments, as if refusing to let go of the mood, then the lights flickered back up.

He lowered her to her feet and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Wanting more, much more, he sighed, released her, and returned to the bar. In a way he hoped his actions had not gone unnoticed by the men in the crowd, especially Mr. Grabby Hands.