The Best Part of Me by Jamie Hollins Read Free Book Online Page B

his first endeavor would have to be a pub. And it was a fucking cash cow.
    â€œAnother round, boyo!”
    Ewan nodded at Skip Ridley, who had yelled from the opposite end of the bar. Skip hailed from Donegal and was slipping further away from his mid-seventies every year. He’d come out of retirement to work part time at a nearby lumber mill and was currently drinking his coworkers under the table.
    Ewan went to pour six more pints of one of the stouts on tap. There was just something about this place that made people forget all about domestics and go right for the imports.
    â€œEwan, I need five Guinness drafts and a Merlot for table eighteen!”
    Ewan nodded without looking over at Jenny, who’d called out the order from behind the row of patrons sitting on stools at the bar.
    Most restaurants in the United States had a bar. Besides décor, most of these bars were the same. People came in, sat down, and ordered a beverage. But Connor McKenna had known that setting his pub apart from Applebee’s or whatever sports bar in the next town would come down to knowing his consumers.
    He hadn’t just given his pub an Irish name and slapped some Irish memorabilia on the wall. He’d paid attention to the little details—from the storefront to the inside design—to ensure that his patrons received a genuine experience that translated to Irish culture, hospitality, and tradition. The locals came because they loved it. And the visitors who stumbled upon it by accident became regulars.
    The pub was located on the ground floor of a two-story building in the heart of Ballagh, right in between the local hardware store and a florist shop. Ewan lived above the pub in a small one-bedroom apartment. The front side of the building was prominent with black wooden panels from the sidewalk to the top of the first floor. Along the top of the black paneling, in bold yellow block letters, read: Katie McMullen’s.
    The story went that when Uncle Connor had first laid eyes on Aunt Katherine, he’d been smitten. He’d always described his love at first sight like a shove to the chest. Especially since Aunt Katherine wouldn’t give him the time of day. His uncle said all the whiskey in the world couldn’t get her out of his mind. So when she’d finally married him and they’d moved to the States, he’d thought it only fair to name his first pub after the girl who’d stolen his heart and led him to drink.
    Being a pub manager might not be a glamorous job, but Ewan loved it. He’d tried the whole college thing but it wasn’t for him. He’d hated sitting in a classroom while a professor lectured him. He preferred hands-on experience to a textbook. And the longer he’d sat in those classes, the more money he’d been throwing away. So Ewan had dropped out his first semester. After spending a couple years on his own in the city that he'd rather forget, he’d finally returned home and his uncle had offered him a job. It was a perfect fit, and Ewan worked hard every day not to fuck it up.
    He put the two drink orders on trays. Jenny was going to be swimming in tips tonight.
    There was a light drizzle outside, and it must have been chilly because all the tables around the old stone fireplace to the right of the entryway were taken. The flames licked high toward the chimney, spreading a warm glow over the old wooden floorboards.
    There were tables and chairs scattered about the room, which extended back from the main street. The long wooden bar, the same color as the floors, ran down the left side of the pub and was lined with high stools. There were several booths that sat along the right side of the room beyond the fireplace area. All were occupied now.
    He quickly moved to the register to add the drinks he’d just poured to the tabs for Skip Ridley and table eighteen. He didn’t need to look at table eighteen to know who’d ordered the lonely Merlot. Quinn