“Sure, boss,” he said. Viv pulled the sugar shakers from the counter underneath the bar and started to refill them. “Oh, Tina said to tell you she had to leave for the day. Something about a family emergency,” Tommy said. He shot her a look that suggested he should be afraid to deliver the message and New Guy was right. She felt about ready to lob a sugar shaker at his head but that would only involve paperwork and workman’s comp. claims she didn’t have time for.
“Great,” she mumbled. “That girl has more family emergencies that anyone else I’ve ever met. Just how big is her family anyway?” Viv complained to herself.
Hot Irish guy seemed to find her whole monologue funny. “So, you’re employees giving you trouble?” he questioned. He shoved four pieces of bacon and half a piece of toast into his mouth.
“Trouble doesn’t begin to describe what they are causing me today—or any other day, for that matter,” she admitted. “I just fired Tina’s best friend for feeding half the town for free and now she takes off with her same old tired excuse. It’s just me and the New Kid,” she said, nodding to where Tommy was still fumbling with the napkin dispensers.
Hot Irish guy cleared his throat, “I might be able to help with your troubles,” he said. God, Viv thought of about a thousand ways that man could help with her problems and not one of them involved what he was probably about to propose. “Hire me,” he said, holding his arms wide as if he was making a sacrifice to her.
“What are your qualifications, Hot Irish Guy?” she asked.
“Hot Irish Guy?” he questioned her nickname for him. Honestly, she was awful at names, so she usually made up her own for people.
Viv shrugged, “Well, it’s accurate,” she said. She put down the sugar shaker she was working on and studied him. “Really, why would you want to work here? I usually get high schoolers coming in here to ask me for a job, but you look to be well out of the public school system.”
He threw back his head and barked out his laugh and it was probably the sexiest thing Viv had ever seen in her life. “Yeah, I’m well past school age, Darlin’,” he admitted. “I’m just turned thirty-three.” Now it was Viv’s turn to laugh. He sounded as though he was saying “tirty-tree”.
“Yeah, yeah—go ahead and may fun of the way I say my th’s; everyone does.” He shot her a sexy smirk that had Viv immediately stop laughing. This guy seemed to be able to take the whole smolder thing to a whole new level.
“My question stands,” she said. “Why do you want to work here?”
He shrugged and pushed his empty plate to the back of the counter, leaning forward as if he was about to share a secret with her. Viv did the same, eager to share the same space as the sexy guy. “I’m a felon,” he loudly whispered.
She didn’t even blink an eye. She had known a few ex-cons in her life. Her grandmother even dated one for a few years until he got bored and took off. So, Hot Irish Guy’s grand admission didn’t shock her. “And incapable of whispering,” Viv teased.
“You don’t seem surprised.” He sounded almost disappointed in the fact that he didn’t surprise her.
“Let’s just say that my grandmother sometimes ran with a questionable crowd and I’ve known all kinds,” she said. “So you want a job here because you’re a felon? You look other places?” Viv knew she was sticking her nose into a stranger’s business but she couldn’t help herself. Plus, if he wanted her to consider him for employment, she had a right to ask questions. Although, she was pretty sure that the question she wanted to ask was completely inappropriate. His relationship status didn’t factor into whether she would hire him or not.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve put into just about every place on Main Street who’s hiring and nothing. I have to fill out their applications and when I get to the part where I have to answer ‘yes’ for convicted of a felony, it’s over. No one wants to hire an ex-con.” Viv hated that he seemed almost defeated and whether right or wrong, she wanted to help him.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“Grand theft auto,” he answered. “I was a stupid kid—just trying to get into a motorcycle gang. My family had just gone back to Ireland and left me in America and I didn’t exactly fit in.” Viv giggled at the thought of an Irish kid trying to fit in with the kids around town. Kids in their little Alabama town were tough when it came to accepting anyone new into the fold. Given the fact that he sounded so different from them, Hot Irish Guy might have never found his place.
“I got about eight hundred meters before the cops caught up to me. I found out later that the guys in the gang I was trying to join set me up. I was made an example of by the system and served ten years of a twelve-year sentence.”
“Wow, that’s awful,” Viv said and she meant it. What happened to him sucked and not giving him a chance to turn himself around would be a dishonor to her Gram. He was just the type of person her grandmother was constantly trying to help. And, now it was Viv’s turn to lend a hand. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Hot Irish Guy was—well, hot.
“I have two questions,” Viv said.
“Shoot,” he said, leaning back in his stool.
“Can you cook and when can you start?” His smile almost lit up the place and she knew she did the right thing even if New Kid was shooting her daggers from the back of the diner.
“What’s the problem, New Kid?” she asked.
“He’s not going to outrank me, right?” he asked.
“I don’t think that’s even possible, New Kid,” Viv said, rolling her eyes for good measure. “Now back to work and stop eavesdropping.” She watched as Tommy pretended to wipe down the booth he had been working on for the past ten minutes.
“How about we take this to my office and you can fill out the paperwork?” Hot Irish Guy nodded and grabbed his dishes.
“Thank you,” he said, following her back through the kitchen to deposit his dishes into the sink. He followed her back to her tiny office and crammed into her space, making it feel even smaller.
“Um—” she squeaked, suddenly feeling nervous. “I guess you should tell me your name—unless you’re good with Hot Irish Guy.”
He chuckled and his deep baritone laugh filled her office. “It’s Cillian James but everyone calls me Kill,” he said.
“Kill?” Viv questioned. “That’s a pretty ominous name. You have anything else you need to tell me before we make this official?” She asked.
“Nope,” he said, taking the papers from her. “I’m good.”