He pulled away after a moment, giving her a smile as he headed into the kitchen, her following.
Jimmy was smiling at their mother, no trace of unease on his face at least until Conor walked in. It was like a switch had been hit, and his expression went blank.
For one tense moment, they made eye contact, holding it. Reagan knew what would come next. Her father would say something rude, Jimmy would respond in kind, they would argue until the shouting was enough to bring the neighbors around, and finally, Jimmy would be out the door with Reagan trying to mend the damage.
But for whatever reason, this morning, her father merely made a noise of discontent before shuffling over to the table and taking his seat.
Reagan blew out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
Maybe, just maybe, this breakfast wouldn’t be a disaster.
* * *
“Holy shit.”
It was five hours after Sunday brunch and Reagan was back at the pub, filling orders as men crowded the tables, some watching American football, others watching various soccer matches. She’d had a chilled glass in her hand, filling it with Bud Light when she heard Shannon’s soft exclamation.
First she looked to her, then to where her gaze was trained, immediately regretting the decision when she caught sight of Niklaus.
Even in a pub full of rowdy men, he looked out of place. There was just something that was too…calm about the way he acted. Most people displayed some kind of emotion when they went places—tired from a long day at work, fear of being in a new place, surprise at the sheer amount of people or noise—but Niklaus? It was like nothing bothered him.
Even though the temperature was in the high fifties, one wouldn’t know that by looking at him. A black shirt stretched across his chest, black jeans that fit him far too well and tucked into scuffed black boots. He briefly glanced around the space until his eyes landed on her, and just like when she’d seen him last night, there was a flare of something dark in his eyes.
She remembered that look and all that it promised.
“What’s he doing here?” Shannon went on to ask, but she had more than curiosity in her tone. “I guess I know for what, but I wonder why?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
When she didn’t respond, Reagan glanced over at Shannon who looked confused for a moment before she asked, “Why don’t you look surprised that he’d be here?”
“What? Of course I’m surprised, he—”
“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”
“He might have walked in here last night when I was closing up.”
“And you didn’t tell me!”
The problem with Shan was how her voice got louder when she was excited. Already, a couple of patrons were looking in their direction, but Reagan ignored their attention, setting down the pint of beer in front of the man that had ordered it, picking up the ten he’d left waiting for her.
“Shan, please don’t—”
“I’m like the first person you should tell,” she said, her voice lowering a touch.
“I sent you a text this morning. Didn’t you get it?”
“You know my phone is sketchy at best. I—oh hey, I remember you,” Shan said as Niklaus took a seat at the end of the bar, oblivious—or just not caring—of the death glare Reagan was sending in her direction. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You must not have recognized me when you came by the diner and asked whether Reagan still worked there.”
What?
Reagan looked at them both in turn. Niklaus’ expression hardly changed, though his brow did twitch, but she hadn’t a clue what that meant. Shannon on the other hand, had one hand on her hip and was staring at him with all the bravado in the world.
“But I’m not surprised you don’t remember me,” Shan went on when Niklaus didn’t respond. “You had seemed to be wrapped up in Reagan at least until you left.”
“Shannon!” Joey called from the kitchen.
In that moment, Reagan could have kissed the man, or at least offered him a raise. Reluctantly, and with a pointed look in Reagan’s direction, Shan stalked off.
Focusing on Niklaus, she asked, “Why are you here again? I thought I made it clear last night that I didn’t want you here.”
He folded his hands on the bar top, openly studying her. “Is that what you meant?”
“Niklaus—”
“We need to talk.”
She was already shaking her head. “No, we don’t. There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
“No? I think we do.”
“Niklaus we could have talked years ago, back when I actually wanted to talk to you. Now, there’s nothing.”
Before she could move away from him, he grabbed hold of her hand, his thumb at her wrist. “Give me ten minutes to explain.”
“Even if I needed one—and I don’t—it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
When he didn’t respond, but kept a firm hold of her, she finally looked at him, straight into those pale blue eyes of his, ones that she had always thought were spell-binding.
“Ten minutes. If you still don’t want to see me after, I’ll leave you alone.”