Mall Out of Luck Read online

  Saoirse took the glass from her and sipped through the straw. It was sweet and sour all at the same time and packed a punch with the whiskey hidden inside. "Oh, wow. That's actually really good. Can I use this for the launch?"

  Nell seemed proud of herself. “Sure. I have a few other ideas, if you want."

  She absolutely wanted all the help she could get, and whoever Nell was, she definitely had a knack for mixing flavors. Saoirse nodded vigorously and was about to say yes before a man called her attention from the front entrance.

  "Hey, are you Saoirse Walsh?" he asked as he walked up to the bar. Slightly below average height, the man was wearing a puffy parka and jeans. His sneakers looked like they hadn't been washed once since he’d purchased them, and when he reached the bar, he placed a recorder down on the bar top. "I'm Dick from Yule Heights Times. I was hoping to interview you about the opening."

  She plastered on her best smile for the man, but immediately felt a churning in her gut. Something about his presence told her that he had zero interest in helping her market the launch, and all the interest in exploiting her past.

  "Sure, Dick. Happy to chat," she lied. "What questions do you have?"

  "Do any of your exes own part of the bar, or are you the full owner?” he asked. "Three, right?”

  Saoirse frowned. "Why would they own part of the bar? I own it alone. I bought it."

  "Makes sense," Dick replied. "Since you never officially got married. What do you think keeps holding you back?"

  "Excuse me?" What the hell.

  "What's your issue with walking down the aisle?” Dick repeated, somehow oblivious to how annoyed she was at his line of questioning. "It's fascinating, you know? Readers are going to want to know what made you walk away three times—or is it better to say run away?" He laughed at his joke, then looked at her expectantly. "I can't imagine living out the plot of a movie in real life. Tell me, do you think Julia Roberts would ever agree to endorse The Lucky Leprechaun?"

  Saoirse licked her lips, trying to bite back the response she wanted to give. As if she hadn't heard the joke comparing her to The Runaway Bride film more than a few dozen times. "I'm not sure how this is relevant to your article."

  "Well, it's a humanities piece," Dick tried to explain, as if she actually wanted to know. How oblivious was this man? "What makes someone end three engagements and move to another state and open a bar? Are you afraid of marriage, or do you just love being single?"

  "I think you've got your information wrong, Dick," Nell suddenly jumped into the conversation as she placed a bright green cocktail down on the bar in front of him.

  Saoirse had completely forgotten she was standing there behind the bar, but the look on Nell's face was pure fire.

  And she wasn't done. "Saoirse isn't single, and she isn't afraid of marriage. She and I are married. She moved here to be with me."

  "Really?" Dick's brows lifted so high they almost ran into his hairline. He looked between them for verification.

  "Uh." She cleared her throat. That was certainly not the response she'd expected. "Yes, well…um, it's a long story."

  "So, you're finally married?" Dick pulled out a notepad from his back pants pocket and started scrawling with a pen he found in his jacket pocket. "Fourth time is the charm, huh?"

  Nell narrowed her eyes into small slits. "Dick, can I get your business card? I'd love to chat with your editor."

  He seemed to get the hint at her tone. "Uh, well, you know, it's probably out in my car. I think I've got enough information now, anyway. Thanks."

  With that, he turned and skittered away, leaving the bar quickly. Saoirse watched him for a moment and then looked at Nell.

  She put her hands up, questioning. "Nell, what the heck was that? We're married?"

  Chapter Three

  Nell

  Nell did not have a prepared response for Saoirse's baffled exclamation. After all, this entire plan was based on a passive aggressive whim toward a nosy man and not thought through for more than a split second. That alone was strange enough for her to wonder where it had come from. Her entire career and life were centered around ignoring men who underestimated her or made judgments about her. Normally, she'd have not even paid attention to Dick's line of questions and just enjoyed her drink.

  But something about the way Saoirse had tensed up with each additional question—her body literally curling in on itself in an attempt to get away from him and his intrigue. She couldn't stand down in that moment. Nell felt protective and defensive, and then the entire fake marriage story just blurted out of her before she was even able to realize what she was saying.

  "Uh, well…" She walked from behind the bar and took a seat in front of Saoirse. It had felt weird still being back there after she'd just plowed through an emotional boundary of relationship status as well as physical boundaries of bar space. "He was being so judgmental. I just wanted to get rid of him, and that shut him up. It's the only thing I could think of in the moment."

  Saoirse leaned forward on the bar, her brows knitting together. "What if he publishes that we're married, though? How exactly does that shut him up?"

  Nell blinked. "Uh, well…I hadn't thought that far ahead. It was more of an impulse decision."

  "Impulse marriages are for Vegas," Saoirse said, now crossing her arms over her chest, her nostrils flaring. "We’re in Michigan, Nell."

  She laughed a bit at that statement, but the hardened stare on Saoirse's face made it catch in her throat. She coughed instead.

  "We could tell him we got divorced?" Nell offered, cringing as she leaned back on the stool.

  Saoirse huffed, and her eyes rolled so hard that even Nell could feel it. "So, I left three people at the altar and divorced the fourth? That is not a better story, Nell. I don't even know your last name!"

  Fair point. "Okay, so obviously it's not a great explanation, but I bet it's enough to get him off your tracks until after the grand opening," Nell argued. "They're only doing this humanities piece because of the turnover in ownership, right? So, in a month or two, things die down and he won't even check back in to see if we're still married or not."

  "We're not married," Saoirse repeated emphatically. "But you're right. With a little time, it'll probably blow over. I doubt the Yule Heights Times is that much of a stickler for details and fact-checking."

  Nell wasn't so sure about that, but she kept her mouth shut. No need to stir the flames of the fire she'd set.

  "Okay, this could work." Saoirse was pacing back and forth behind the bar now, and Nell wasn't about to interrupt her line of thinking. "We'd have to get on the same page. Learn some facts about each other. At least enough to throw him off next time he comes around for more answers."

  "Or if he publishes that, then people around town are probably going to ask," Nell added. "It would be good to have our story straight."

  "Starting with, what's your full name?" Saoirse pulled out two small shot glasses from behind the bar and then grabbed a bottle of whiskey. She quickly filled both up and pushed one toward Nell.

  "Nell James. And you're Saoirse Walsh." She took the shot glass and sniffed the liquor. She could already feel it burning in her stomach and she hadn't even taken a sip yet. "Are we turning this into a drinking game?"

  "I have to be a little drunk to try to make this make sense in my head," Saoirse confirmed. "Otherwise, I'd probably just call security and have you kicked out."

  Nell laughed and shook her head. "Okay, fair enough, but I've been coming here for years. Don't take away my home away from home. They know me here."

  Something on Saoirse's face softened at that response. "That's my goal for this place—to give people a home away from home. Some sort of safe harbor to recharge alone or with friends, you know?"

  Nell didn't respond immediately, wondering if home was something Saoirse had had much of before.

  "Is Nebraska home to you?" Nell asked, recalling some details from the article she'd read.

  Saoirse shook
her head emphatically. "I burned that bridge. Left complete carnage in my wake, actually." She laughed lightly, but it was hollow and something about the sound made Nell's chest hurt. "Imagine being one of the only two people in a hundred-mile radius who is open about their sexuality—and then breaking up with that person."

  Nell was only slightly familiar with that feeling, but thankfully Yule Heights wasn't as isolated as it sounded like Saoirse's hometown had been. They were about an hour from Detroit, but with a little leg work, it was possible to find communities around here that felt welcoming of her sexual orientation. "I'm sorry," she said. "That sounds rough."

  "Drink up." Saoirse lifted the glass to her lips and took the entire shot in one go.

  Nell followed suit, but she needed a few swallows to get it all down, and even then she coughed and choked on the fiery liquid. "Christ. That burns."

  Saoirse grinned, and an ease took over her expression that Nell hadn't seen yet. "Okay, your turn. Tell me something about you."

  She thought for a moment, placing the shot glass down on the bar top. Saoirse filled it back up, along with hers. "I have a pet snake."

  Her eyes widened. "What?"

  "Yeah, Laura Dern. She's a Rosy Boa, and about two and a half feet in length." Nell stretched out her arms to the approximate length she guessed. "I've had her about five years now."

  "You named your snake Laura Dern?" Saoirse was smiling again, and Nell couldn't help but notice the bright green flecks sparkle in her hazel eyes. "Like from The Ellen Show episode in the 90s?"

  She both was and wasn't surprised that Saoirse immediately knew the reference. She tapped the tip of her nose with her pointer finger. "Ding, ding, ding!"

  "I don't know how I feel about living with a snake," Saoirse joked. "What if that's a marriage dealbreaker?"

  "Hey, Laura Dern was here first," Nell teased, tossing back more easily the second shot of whiskey that Saoirse had poured them both. "You'll have to learn to love her. We're a package deal."

  "Plus, we're already married, so not much I can do about it now," Saoirse teased.

  Nell could tell the liquor was settling into Saoirse’s stomach now with the way her voice had changed. Nothing major, but she just sounded looser…calmer. The tension that had been there when Dick had been asking his questions had eased and they felt like…friends.

  "Okay, my turn," Saoirse said, clearing her throat. "I have two tattoos."

  She scanned the bare parts of Saoirse's body that she could see—her arms, neck, and a slight gap between the hem of her shirt and the top of her jeans—but she didn't see any ink. "Really? Where?"

  A smirk crossed Saoirse's lips before she straightened it. "One on my thigh—a four leaf clover as an homage to my Irish roots. Another on my ribs—the serenity prayer."

  "On your ribs?" Nell lifted her brows. "That's a really painful spot to get ink—right on the bone."

  "Freaking brutal." Saoirse nodded and grabbed the hem of her shirt, hiking it up to show the skin on her side, which—aside from the dark ink—was so light that it was almost blinding in the dimly lit bar. It was a minimalist font, barely legible but beautifully delicate.

  Nell leaned a little closer to read the words of the prayer. "Does that prayer have special meaning to you?"

  She nodded. "My…well, not to trauma dump, but my father was an alcoholic and I never really knew him aside from the few times he’d show up drunk and ask my mother for money. When I was in college, my mother died—ovarian cancer. She had never moved on after him—still loved him—and he didn’t even come to her funeral. I got a collect call from him once last year, but other than that, no idea where he is. And I don’t really care.”

  Nell's eyes traveled past Saoirse to the wall of liquor bottles behind her. It was an interesting choice of careers after a family history like that, and something about the daring and rebellious nature of it made Nell like her even more. "I'm sorry that happened," she said. "I grew up in the foster system, so absent parents are sort of my area of expertise."

  "Really?” Saoirse seemed surprised by that admission, then pointed to the work badge hanging on a lanyard around Nell's neck from earlier that she'd forgotten to remove. "And now you're a fancy scientist? That's quite the glow up."

  She fingered the badge, and then slid it over her head and tucked it into her bag. "Yeah, I love what I do. I was lucky. When I was a teenager, I was finally adopted by a really nice couple in town along with another kid in the foster program with me. I kept my last name as homage to my roots, but they changed my life. Dash is like a brother to me now. In fact, he and his wife just had their second child, so I'm an aunt again, too.”

  Saoirse smiled widely at that. "A little jealous about that, to be honest. Kids are fun."

  "So are snakes," Nell joked.

  "Less sure about that one." Saoirse shook her head, but then lined up two more shot glasses and poured them another round. "Okay, next question. When was your last date?"

  Nell could feel her cheeks heat at the memory that was flashing before her eyes. "Uh, well…it's not exactly recent."

  Saoirse lifted one brow, a smirk on her lips. "No judgement here—I'm the runaway bride, remember?"

  Nell grinned as she nodded. "It was about a year ago…actually, it was last Valentine's Day. So, I guess more than a year now."

  "That's not that long. Who was the lucky lady?" Saoirse asked.

  "This is where you're going to judge me." Nell had not told this story to anyone, and it was boggling her mind that she had already shared this much. "It was my landlord's ex-wife."

  Saoirse's eyes almost bugged out of her face. "Does your landlord know?"

  Nell shook her head adamantly, because that was the absolute last thing that she needed. She loved her townhouse and wasn't ready to move anytime soon. In fact, she was hoping the landlord would want to sell the entire place, and she could buy it off him.

  "Holy cow, that's awkward." Saoirse laughed. "I guess you have a thing for wives, or almost-wives."

  "It does seem to be a pattern," Nell admitted with a chuckle, even though that was the only experience she'd had with someone who'd once been married. "Everyone has some sort of past. I try to never hold that against who someone is today."

  Saoirse poured another shot, and Nell glanced at it as she felt her stomach sloshing. "Should we do one more?"

  "Why not?" Nell shrugged, though the little voice in the back of her mind said don't do it.

  Saoirse lifted her brows. "Are you sure? I'm a bartender, so I can go quite a few rounds. How's a scientist's tolerance?"

  That sealed the deal for Nell—a challenge. She pulled the now-filled shot glass toward her and tapped the bottom against the wooden bar top. "I can take it. I'm a regular here, you know."

  "Yeah, but you strike me as a one, maybe two, drink regular before you're home watching Netflix in wool socks and a throw blanket."

  Nell grinned, because that was a more than slightly accurate representation of her nights off. "Bottoms up," she said, lifting the glass to her lips and tipping her head back.

  Her throat opened and she took a long swallow, and that was the last thing she remembered until she woke up the next morning.

  Chapter Four

  Saoirse

  Why are exposed pipes on my bedroom ceiling? Saoirse frowned as she blinked slowly back to consciousness and stared up. Her head felt heavy, but she managed to shift it an inch to the right and glance around the room.

  Maybe because this isn't my bedroom. She took in her worn office furniture and the Federal Labor Law posters on the wall. Had she spent the night in the back office at the bar?

  She slid her tongue across her bottom lip, chapped and dry. Clearing her throat, she stretched out her legs, but was immediately met with resistance. When she lifted her head to look down at her feet, the room took a few spins before being right-side up, but she finally focused her vision and realized that she had four feet now.

  How much did I freaking drink? Saoi
rse pushed to sit up, but something pulled her back to the couch, and she quickly realized it was an arm. But, not her arm. Saoirse stretched her neck to look behind her on the couch and saw Nell asleep with one arm around her waist and her legs intertwined with hers.

  The memories from last night came back quickly. She was married—sort of. Nell was a customer from the bar—a beautiful one. And they'd gone shot for shot until the bar closed. Had they kissed? Had they done more than kiss? Saoirse took inventory of her clothes, but everything seemed to be on in the right order, no indication that she'd taken anything off.

  Maybe they'd just passed out like this together because they'd both been too tired? That didn't explain the spooning, though. Or why she didn't feel alarmed by the entire experience in the least. Instead, she rotated her body slowly and carefully so that she was lying on the couch facing the still-sleeping Nell instead of butt to crotch like they'd been a moment ago.

  Nell was incredibly beautiful. She'd thought so last night, but having an unfiltered moment to just look at the russet-toned, purple-haired woman as she slept only confirmed it for her. Her hair was somewhere in between short and long—possibly just long enough to touch her shoulders, but it was hard to tell from them both being horizontal. Black roots were beginning to show at the crown of her hair where the purple highlights needed touch ups, but Saoirse loved that little bit of realism in the moment.

  Her own hair was dark red and stringy with a bit of a straw texture to it that she'd been trying to combat with different deep conditioners over the years. Funny, since everyone she met spoke about how much they loved her hair, but she was the first person to critique it in the mirror every morning. Nell didn't seem the type to do that, and she bet that she loved her body as it was.

  "What are you thinking?" Nell's lips moved and Saoirse was caught off guard.

  "Oh! I thought you were sleeping," she admitted.

  Nell's eyes fluttered open, clearly heavy with sleep still. "I was." She yawned and stretched her body. "But then you turned around."