On The Rocks: The Dugan Siblings, #2

To my grandparents –

Grandma, Pop Pop, Jojo and Pa

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Chapter One

Polly Wilson knew what was in the thick ivory envelope before she opened it. The gold calligraphy and heavy paper gave it away: it was another wedding invitation. That made three she’d received for this summer alone—three more friends who were getting married. She’d known they were coming, of course, thanks to the sparkly ring photos they’d posted all over Facebook, which was why she was half tempted to rip this newest invitation to shreds. Couple that with the adorable newborn pictures that littered her newsfeed, and it was enough to make Polly feel like she was in last place as far as life achievements went.

She laughed bitterly to herself as she threw the invitation on her dining room table without opening it. She was in last place: three months away from twenty-five and no closer to getting what she wanted out of her life. Looking back, Polly was glad she hadn’t ended up with any of her exes, but the last one had seemed like he could have been husband, or at least long-term boyfriend material—until the excessive drinking had kicked in.

She guessed she should have expected it. She did work at a bar, after all.

The ivory envelope taunted her from the pile of mail. Polly finally opened the wedding invite and snorted. It was for Sarah, a high school friend who’d recently eloped to Paris but had decided to throw a huge reception back home. The party was five weeks away. Polly had only a few days to send in her RSVP, and figured she wouldn’t go. Fine by her. One less gift to buy, one less awkward yes, I am single conversation to have.

But then again, who was that late sending their invitations, even if it was just a reception? If Polly was invited, Sarah was obviously inviting the entire town, since the two hadn’t spoken in a year beyond a hi, how are you? when Polly had run into Sarah last month.

Polly glanced back at the invitation. The gold lettering proclaimed Together Forever in large scripted words.

So cheesy, but Polly couldn’t help but be jealous.

Screw it, she thought, stuffing the RSVP in her pocket. She’d talk to Moira about it at work tonight. She might have to go after all, just to be that wedding guest who drank too much wine and danced with reckless abandon. As irrational as it was, that seemed like justice in the world to Polly.

Work wasn’t the same since the kitchen at Dugan’s had burned down. The Irish pub had been Polly’s part-time job since she was legal to serve alcohol. Moira had offered her a job there straight out of high school. When the pub had accidentally caught fire two weeks ago, Polly had been fearful for both her friends and her livelihood. In a pinch, while their kitchen was being redone, Abel and Cade had scaled down the menu and rented a food truck they parked behind the pub and cooked out of it. Their daily beer deals, not to mention a thorough cleaning of the pub that took five days to complete, had miraculously meant customers kept coming, something Polly was grateful for.

But they weren’t coming on this night. Tuesday nights usually dragged on to the point of boredom. Polly only had three tables she was serving, and not even the drink special (half off local beers) had been enough to get the customers in. Some nights were frustrating like that, but at least she was having a better night than the guy sitting in the back booth alone. He’d come in half an hour ago, the scent of aftershave trailing after him. He’d looked around as if expecting to see someone, and when he hadn’t, he’d chosen a booth by himself. Polly guessed he was there on a blind date, judging by his dark jeans and maroon half-zip. Polly felt like she was bothering him as she asked him yet again if he wanted to see a dinner menu.

That’s okay, he said, declining it.

Well, at least let me get you a beer on the house.

Trying to get me drunk? he asked, flashing Polly perfect white teeth.

She resisted smiling too widely, though her stomach was doing flips. You just looked like you could use a drink.

Really? That obvious?

Nah, she lied. He’d been checking his phone every thirty seconds, and Polly had been working in the bar too long to miss the obvious signs. By the way, she’s an idiot for standing you up, whoever she is.

He gazed at her as if he didn’t get what she was trying to say.

Or he! Polly put her hands in the air, feigning surrender. No judgment. Either way, total idiot.

He laughed, getting it at last. Definitely a she, and I think it’s going to all work out for the best.

Polly cocked an eyebrow as he took a sip of his beer, never letting his eyes leave her face. Oh really? she said. He was very confident with himself, but Polly could see why. He had the looks of a future senator with perfectly coifed hair and a smooth voice.

I’m Ethan, he said. His handshake was firm, and his hands warm. Polly held on for longer than socially acceptable.

Polly, she said. We have a drink special tonight that no one’s taking advantage of. What do you prefer, pilsner or IPA?

Pilsner, or a really good lager.

Do you trust my recommendations?

Ethan smiled again, and Polly wondered how it was possible he didn’t have a contract with a toothpaste company. Absolutely.

Coming right up, she replied, sashaying away just a little too obviously.

Ethan was easy to talk to, and Polly had been right to call him a future senator—he was getting his graduate degree in political science and thinking about becoming a lobbyist or starting his own political action committee. He spent the rest of the night trying to explain to Polly how a bill became a law as she served food and drinks to the few tables she was in charge of.

She was normally bored as hell hearing about politics, but she thought she could have listened to Ethan all night long.

He lingered there, even as she mopped the floors and stacked chairs on top of tables. He offered to help her, but Polly was stubborn. You’re the customer here, she said. Nothing adds to a shitty night like having to help clean up.

This definitely hasn’t been a shitty night, Ethan replied, smiling so wide, Polly almost kissed him right there.

Ethan had had at least five beers, and Polly was almost giddy with anticipation as she offered to give him a ride home. When they pulled up next to his two-story brick apartment complex, Ethan turned to her.

Would it be too presumptive of me to ask— he started to say.

Absolutely not, Polly interrupted him and kissed him hard. It had been so long—too long, really, since she’d even been kissed. Ethan’s warm hands traveled down her face to her back and pulled her closer, so her hip dug into the center console.

Can we go... somewhere more comfortable? Polly asked.

Of course. They got out of the car, and Ethan took her hand and led her to his apartment on the first floor. The only light came from a massive fish tank in one corner, but Polly didn’t get a good look around before Ethan’s hands and lips were on her again, trailing down her face to her neck.

She moaned and whispered, More, and Ethan obliged as his hands searched inside her shirt for the clasp of her bra. He fumbled for a few moments before cursing in frustration, unable to unhook it. Polly giggled and reached around to help him. His hands were still warm on her breasts, and she moaned again. She lifted up her arms and took off her bra and shirt while he pulled off his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt. His chest was muscular, but not overly so; his biceps were nothing special. Polly had a sudden thought of Abel’s chest and arms, strong as boulders. She blinked, trying to concentrate on Ethan’s mouth as it traveled down to her stomach, and not on the few glances she’d had in the past of Abel’s naked chest.

The morning arrived sooner than Polly would have liked. She didn’t stay long at Ethan’s apartment, apologetically picking up clothes that had scattered around his bedroom and living area. In the daylight, she could tell the fish tank was next to a bookshelf almost weighted down with textbooks, most of them sporting neon green USED BOOK stickers. A huge Obama for President 2008 framed poster hung in one corner, and a lumpy red corduroy sofa sat in another. It was the apartment of a grad student, complete with random half-full coffee mugs scattered all over the place.

Polly turned to Ethan and awkwardly kissed him. Thanks for letting me stay the night, she said, painfully aware of her smeared makeup and frizzy hair.

Yeah, it was great, Ethan smiled.

It had been fun, but Polly wouldn’t call it great. A lack of orgasms wasn’t her idea of a great night.

Just in case, you think you could give me your number? Ethan asked.

Polly grinned. Sure, she said, reciting it to him. She didn’t plan on texting him and was more than sure she’d never hear from him again, but it was nice of him to pretend. She waved goodbye to him as she walked out his door without a backward glance, sure she’d never see him again.

After a quick shower, Polly felt better. Ethan had texted her letting her know he’d had a good evening, and she’d responded with a message in agreement. She thought it was going to be a good day...until she heard a strange gurgling coming from her toilet. Wrapping herself in a towel, she gingerly opened the lid, afraid she’d see sewage bubbling up at her. Instead, water barely filled the bowl. Polly groaned, thinking of how long it would take for a toilet to be fixed. Her landlord, usually so on top of things, was out of town that week, and Polly knew she couldn’t get by without a working toilet. She grabbed her cell phone just as a call from Moira came in.

Did you get Sarah’s wedding invitation? Moira asked the moment Polly answered the phone.

Yes. Can you believe she’s now sending them? I mean, I realize it’s just a reception, but still.

Well, I heard the whole thing is pretty thrown together. Her mom is not happy they eloped, and this is her compromise. I’m not surprised. But I’m still going.

Polly rolled her eyes. Moira had a weird fascination with weddings that Polly had never shared. I’m not, she said. No way. I’m done with going to weddings by myself.

Oh, come on! You have to go. Ask Abel. It’ll be fun!

Fat chance. If that’s my option, I’d rather go by myself than with Abel, Polly retorted. The words rang hollow as she said them.

Come on! Liam and I are going. We’ll have fun, I promise. You need to have some fun.

Well, speaking of fun...I met a guy at the pub last night.

Really?

He was this cute grad student who got stood up on a date.

And you let him ask you on one instead?

No, I gave him a ride home. And stayed there all night.

Moira squealed. Polly! Oh my gosh, that is so exciting. You think this could turn into something?

Nah. Not really interested. He’s cute, though, and it was fun. But he’s not for me.

I’m so happy for you, Pol. And I think you should still come to Sarah’s wedding.

I’ll think about it, she said. Hey, are you with your brothers? Her heart skipped half a beat, and she wondered if Moira was with Abel.

Yeah, Cade’s right here. Why?

Polly tried to swallow the disappointment down her throat, but it was lodged there like thick soup. My toilet is messed up, and Mr. Barnes is out of town until next week. Do you think he could come over and take a look at it? I hate to ask, but...

Sure, you know he’d be happy to. I’ll send him over.

Thanks, Moira, Polly said and hung up the phone. The only good part of Cade coming over instead of Abel was Polly could just throw on whatever she wanted without having to worry about impressing anyone. She hung her towel up and walked to her closet to grab yoga pants.

Abel had been eyeing the bottles of vodka behind the bar all morning, wondering if he should just drink half of one and be done with it. It had been one of those days already, and it wasn’t even eleven. They were less than a week out of being open after losing their entire kitchen, and both toilets had overflowed this morning, literally shitting on his day. He’d cleaned up the bathrooms and gotten the men’s side to work, but the women’s toilet was being especially difficult. Two hours of working on it had resulted in nothing but more water flooding the bathroom.

If anyone flushed a tampon down this thing, I quit.

And there was that little detail of Moira no longer doing the bookwork for the pub. Abel wanted her to be happy and grudgingly admitted to himself it was for the best, and his sister was right—it wasn’t her forte, and they never should have taken her work for granted for this long. But he couldn’t help but be frustrated. Not having to worry about the schedule or paychecks had been a massive weight off his shoulders, a burden he hadn’t had to bear for years. Though Kieran and Cade had promised to pitch in, they were both swamped at their other jobs, Kieran with his work at the Army base north of town and Cade at the police department, where he was an officer.

Abel was a part-time firefighter and worked two days a week. While he often pulled 24-hour shifts each day, he ended up having more downtime, which meant he was usually the one at the pub. To be fair, the other siblings had given him more ownership of Dugan’s, which Abel wanted. The pub was where he liked to be, more so than the rest of his siblings. It was his life’s work, and had, at one time, felt like the biggest accomplishment he’d ever achieve.

Anymore, he was feeling like it wasn’t enough. Even though he’d dreamed of opening up a restaurant, of making friends with the same customers who came in day after day, he’d started to feel a dull ache when he got home at the end of a long shift. He still shared his childhood home with Cade and Kieran, but he might as well have been alone.

He was alone. He hadn’t even had a good date in over a year. And shoveling up shit wasn’t helping his mood.

Cade had told him, unhelpfully, to get laid. Kieran, more sensitive and introverted than either Abel or Cade, had told him to talk to someone.

That’s what I’m doing with you, Abel had argued.

Kieran raised an eyebrow. I’m single too, he’d reasoned. What do I know?

Abel got the