Lilac Lane (Chesapeake Shores #14)(32)

Bryan’s cheeks flushed. “Kiera, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m behaving like an idiot. I had a terrible night and I’m taking it out on you. Again. I swear I’ll stop doing this. I’ll bite my tongue off before I utter another sharp word.”

She regarded him with amusement. “I appreciate the commitment, but I’ve serious doubts about you being able to keep it. You’re not cut out for staying silent, any more than I am.”

He laughed, and it was a fine sight to see. It warmed her heart.

“You’re right about that,” he conceded, “but I can vow to try. Bring those suggestions of yours over to a table and let’s talk them through.”

She studied him and noted the weariness in his eyes, as well as the sincerity behind his apology. “Okay, then. Would you like a cup of coffee while we talk?”

“I think I’ve probably had more than my share this morning, as it is.”

“Tea, then. I keep some chamomile here for occasions when I’m feeling restless and uneasy.”

“I’m not a big fan of tea, but perhaps I should give yours a try,” Bryan said.

“Ah, you’re more amenable already,” she said approvingly, busying herself with pouring boiling water over a tea bag she’d retrieved from her supply.

She put the cup on the table in front of him. “Would you be wanting to talk about whatever ruined your night’s rest?”

“Are you suggesting I’m in need of counseling? After the display I just put on, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Not counseling,” she corrected. “Perhaps just a friendly ear.”

Bryan studied her curiously. “Do you take in stray puppies that have nipped at you, too?”

Kiera chuckled at the comparison. “No, I’ve subjected a few people to my own quick temper from time to time. I’ve wanted forgiveness and understanding for that, so it’s only reasonable that I return the favor.”

“I appreciate the offer, but the story’s too long and dull for the time we have before the pub opens.” He beckoned to her. “Let’s see that list you stuffed in your pocket when I ran you out of the kitchen.”

She pulled the crumpled paper from her pocket and smoothed it out, then met his gaze with an earnest expression. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job. At least that’s not how it’s meant. It’s just that I’m a fresh pair of eyes and I’ve had years of working in a restaurant in Ireland, which gives me some level of competence.”

He smiled. “And you’re Irish,” he said. “I get it. I’ll try to be more open-minded, rather than taking offense.”

She looked skeptical. “Can you do that?”

“I can try.”

“Okay, then. I was thinking perhaps that the lunch menu could use a few hearty sandwiches. I’ve listed them on here. These would be found in countryside pubs all over Ireland. To be honest, I think they’re on the menu because they’re not only appealing to a farmer who might be going back into the fields, but because it takes a lot of ale to wash them down.”

Bryan chuckled at that. “An interesting observation,” he said as he scanned her suggestions, which seemed to rely heavily on thick bread, cheese, meats and tomatoes in season. “It would be like working in the deli again,” he muttered disparagingly.

Kiera frowned at his comment. “And there goes the open mind you promised.”

“Sorry. You’re right. Why do you think these might work, aside from selling extra ale, perhaps?”

“Because they’re a staple of an Irish pub, especially in the countryside. We want people who come here to have a truly Irish experience. One or two options like these on the menu give them a better picture of what they might find if they were to pull into a pub on the side of the road anywhere in Ireland. For anyone who’s traveled there, it will be a pleasant reminder.”

She sat quietly as Bryan seemed to weigh her argument. “Fine. We’ll try them as specials here and there and see how it goes.”

Kiera beamed at him. “You’re really going to take my suggestion?”

“As an experiment,” he cautioned.

“That’s good enough.” She leveled a steady look into his eyes. “Was it so difficult, then, giving me this tiny victory?”

Bryan laughed. “No, Kiera, it was almost painless.”

“Then perhaps we can try it again sometime,” she said. “I want to be on the same team with you, Bryan.”

An odd expression flitted across his face at that, and he almost knocked over his cup of tea in his rush to stand. “I need to get back to work.”

“You don’t want the rest of your tea?” she asked innocently, well aware that he’d stopped drinking it after the first cautious sip.

“You and I will find our way to peace, Kiera, but I doubt I’ll ever give that chamomile tea of yours another chance. It’s worse than medicine.”

“But even better for you,” she told him. “Sometimes it takes a bitter pill to cure what ails you.”

“I’ll take the ailment,” he said vehemently.

“You’ll let me know if things get bad enough that you change your mind,” she told him. “I won’t hold the shift in attitude against you.”