Cillian (The Kelly Brothers #2) - Megan Wade Page 0,1
my burgundy-colored hair behind my ear. “I didn’t get in. Not anywhere I wanted to go, anyway. I’m kind of… reevaluating my options right now. Dad wants me to give the restaurant biz a go, so here I am.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” my uncle says, nodding his approval.
“As long as that’s all you want,” my aunt adds with a slight scoff. “I always imagined you working in one of those high-rises as a manager or something.”
“Really?” My uncle frowns. “I always expected she’d be a kindergarten teacher or something. She’s always been the homely type.”
As they argue about what type of person they think I am—homely? Ugh!—I take the opportunity to make my escape, collecting dirty plates from the table next to them and making a mad dash for the kitchen, letting out my breath the moment I’m out of sight.
“That bad, huh?” The guy from before is smirking at me while he dips flattened out chicken breast into crumbs.
“I made my escape as soon as I could,” I say, dumping the dishes into the designated tray then moving over to the prep area. “They’re currently arguing over whether they think I could work in an office or a classroom. Seems the service industry is the wrong place for me.”
He glances up from what he’s doing and smiles. “Yeah? That’s very presumptuous of them. Did you tell them to go to hell?”
I let out a sigh as I lean against the counter and fold my arms across my chest. It gives me a good view of this guy’s ass, so I’m happy with my decision to move closer. “No. I just backed away the moment they started arguing. It made me feel like they thought my dad failed at life.”
“Is he in the service industry too?” He looks at me over his shoulder.
I frown a little, realizing that he doesn’t know who my dad is. Something about that knowledge makes me smile. Ever since I walked through those doors for my shift, I’ve been treated differently than everyone else. Seems being the boss’s daughter means I’m separate from the team. It’s been an awkward few hours. But then this guy—the sous chef by the looks of things—has no clue. This is a genuine conversation between two regular people. I like it. Almost as much as I like him…and his ass… Why do I want to squeeze it so bad?
“He’s a… chef,” I say, pushing off the counter so I’m not inappropriately staring at his ass anymore. “Well, he was. He’s in more of a managerial position now. More stress, better pay. He likes the idea of me working my way up, same as he did. But I guess everyone has opinions about what their kids should do with their lives.” I shrug and pick up the bowl of crumb mix and pour some more out for him.
“Thanks,” he says, dropping a freshly egg-washed piece of chicken in. “I think my parents would’ve liked it if me and my brothers worked for them. Especially Mam, she likes to have her boys all in one place as much as possible.”
“Mam? Your family is Irish?”
He nods. “Aye. Irish-American though—the four of us we were born here after Mam and Da immigrated.”
“Explains the lack of an Irish accent,” I say with a smile. “Although, you say things like ‘Aye’. So that makes up for it.” He flashes me a dimple-popping smile and I swoon. “Where do your parents work?”
“They own the Irish bar, Kelly’s.”
“Oh, I know that place. So, you’re a Kelly?”
“Aye. I kind of grew up in the service industry. Mam and Da had us washing glasses and bussing tables as soon as we were tall enough to reach the dishwasher.”
“I imagine that was quite young since you’re what? Six-two?”
“Six-one, actually. I’m the shortest in the family.”
“Bullshit. How tall are your brothers?”
“Branagan is six-five, the other two fall somewhere in between.”
“Are you the youngest?”
He grins. “Second oldest.”
“Must have been a sore spot having your little brothers get bigger than you,” I tease, feeling more at ease with him in every passing moment.
“If it wasn’t height, it would be something else. It’s natural for siblings to want to give each other grief. Part of the fun of a big family.” There’s that smile again.
“I wouldn’t know. There’s only me and my dad.”
“I’m sorry. Your mom isn’t in the picture anymore?”
“No. She left when I was a baby, so I’ve never even met her. But it’s OK. Dad played tea parties with me when I