The Best Part of Me by Jamie Hollins

Adler had come in forty-five minutes ago and was sitting in that last booth with her cousin, Rory, and a few of his friends. Figures that a city girl would show up at an Irish pub and order wine. He’d made eye contact with her briefly but looked away without so much as a chin lift.
    Earlier in the week, he’d gone and done what he’d told himself not to do.
    He’d been cordial. Neighborly. Polite.
    When he’d dropped that crate of whiskey off for Rory, he should have turned right back around and left. Instead, he’d stood there a minute and watched as a five-foot-four-inch sylph tried to manhandle a piece of lumber that likely weighed more than she did.
    On closer inspection, he’d noticed her legs weren’t stick-thin like he’d originally assumed. They were leanly muscled in the short athletic shorts she’d been wearing. Those long, toned legs weren’t just genetic; they were the kind that took some effort to create and maintain. He could seriously appreciate that type of dedication to one’s body.
    In fact, he was starting to appreciate more than just her legs. And it was that appreciation that had led him off that porch in her direction. Now she probably thought he was a decent human being. She might even want to get to know him better. And that wasn’t going to work for him.
    His life was fine as it was. It was free of drama and complications. And getting involved with Quinn Adler—involved in any way—was a complication.
    â€œShit, is there a full moon tonight or something?”
    Ewan’s cousin, Sean, stopped and nudged him out of the way so he could get to the computer. He tapped the screen quickly as he wiped his forehead with the back of his other hand.
    â€œIt’s always like this on Fridays.”
    â€œJesus.” Sean shook his head. “Remind me never to help you on a Friday again.”
    Ewan had requested Sean’s help over the weekend. Sean was a twenty-seven-year-old bachelor living the good life in Boston, but he’d never once let Ewan down when he needed him. Truth be told, his cousin pulled in more money for the bar on the weekends he was around due to the sheer fact that the man was naturally gifted with a shit ton of charisma and personality. When he talked, he made people feel like they mattered.
    Because he’d grown up in Ballagh before he’d headed into the city for college, he knew everyone’s names, their kids’ names, and their fucking pets’ names.
    And when anyone new showed up, he could make them feel right at home, like the seat they were occupying was theirs for the rest of their life. And if that new person happened to be a female, he’d amp up that megawatt smile of his and would have her pulling down the neckline of her top in the hopes of keeping him talking to her for a few minutes longer.
    Not to mention, she’d be ordering more drinks. Ewan wouldn’t be surprised if half the women in the bar had suddenly shown up because they’d heard Sean was working tonight.
    â€œWho’s the new girl sitting with Erin Brauer?”
    Ewan felt the possessive hackles rise on the back of his neck and was instantly annoyed. More at himself than at Sean. “Quinn Adler. Maura Hughes’s niece.”
    He heard his cousin whistle in appreciation. “Not bad.”
    Not bad, indeed.
    Ewan didn’t respond because a response would only encourage him more.
    â€œFuck,” Sean murmured.
    Ewan locked a steely gaze on his cousin. He didn’t want to get stuck in a conversation about Quinn Adler’s lovely assets. It took him a moment to realize Sean wasn’t looking over at Quinn’s table. Instead he was focused on a group of guys hovering behind the last four stools closest to the front door. The four stools that were quickly being vacated at that very moment to give the newcomers room at the bar.
    If his hackles hadn’t already been standing, they would be