A Bad Bit Nice by Josie Kerr Read Free Book Online

on again?”
    “Your divorce,” the bartender said. Mick frowned in confusion. “You’re not wearing a wedding band tonight. So congratulations on your divorce!” She smiled and lowered her eyes suggestively.
    “Oh, right.” Mick said, glancing at his hand. He still wasn’t quite used to the bareness of his left ring finger. He smiled weakly back at the bartender. She’s way too young for me.
    “Okay, I’ve got my song picked out. I’m up third.” Rory slapped him on the back and turned to wink at the bartender. “Meghan, love, get this man something a bit stronger, and I’ll take the same. He needs a bit of fortification for tonight.” Mick rolled his eyes at Rory’s exaggerated Irish accent. Meghan giggled and poured two shots of Irish whiskey.
    “ Sláinte, boyo,” Rory said, raising his glass. Mick replied the same.
    “She congratulated me on my divorce,” Mick said, jerking his chin toward the bartender.
    Rory looked at Mick in confusion, but then his face brightened with realization. “Oh, the ring. Huh. That could work for you.”
    “She’s half my age, Rory.”
    “She’s 26. That’s not half your age.”
    “How do you know that?” Mick asked. At Rory’s silence, he said, “Oh no, now I’m definitely not going there. No offense.”
    Rory shrugged. “You know the ladies find the accent irresistible. She offered.”
    Mick made a face, and Rory just laughed and shrugged again, but then he grew thoughtful.
    “Just talk to someone, yeah? You don’t have to sleep with her. Flirt a little. It’ll do you good.”
    “I was never good at the social stuff back then; what makes you think I’ll be any good now?”
    Rory just sighed and finished his drink, but before he could reply he heard the host call his name. “That’s my cue.” Mick turned around on his barstool to watch his friend mount the stage. When the familiar strains of the song Rory had chosen came over the speakers, Mick had to laugh. Rory was a nut.
    *****
    The sounds of music drifted outside as Ashley and Em walked up to the pub.
    “I cannot believe you talked me into wearing this.”
    Ashley poked Em in the back. “Boobs out, chin up! Let’s go! We need to find you some D.”
    “You’re really crass, you know, Ashley.”
    “Oh, my God, Em. You curse more than anyone I’ve ever met!”
    “Cursing and crassness can be mutually exclusive,” Em sniffed, feeling exposed because of the plunging neckline of the shirt. Her hands fluttered along the pussycat bow that decorated said plunging neckline.
    Em surveyed the pub as the next song began, her eyes lazily drifting over people at the bar. The sight of a tall man perched on a stool at the end of the bar made her do a double-take.
    “No fucking way!” Em exclaimed softly. “He’s here!” Mister Ideal was at the bar, sitting on a barstool and whistling and clapping.
    Holy hell. He looks even better than he did in the yard.
    Gone was the stocking cap, but he still had the tousled knot of hair gathered at the back of his neck. He had traded the t-shirt for a black waffled Henley, the sleeves pushed up, showing a heavily tattooed, masculine forearm. His long legs were clad in jeans that showed off his muscular thighs and, sweet Jesus, he had on a pair of black O’Keefe lace-up boots on his feet. He hooted and grinned broadly at whoever was about to take the stage. Em imagined that she could see the crinkles at the edges of his eyes and almost swooned. It should be illegal for a man to look that good.
    Ashley’s squealing interrupted Em’s fantasizing.
    “O.M.G. red-hot leprechaun on stage! Well, not a leprechaun because he’s way too tall and big. Maybe a Highlander,” Ashley babbled.
    “Ashley, did you just say ‘O.M.G?’ What in the hell has gotten into you? You need to stop dating millennials. You’re turning into a female Wooderson.”
    “Alright, alright, alright. That’s what I like about those college boys; I get older, they stay the same age,” Ashley