Full Summary:
The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son.
Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle and a questionable past.
The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type.
Oh, and apparently their taste in women.
Or rather, one woman.
Feisty.
Blonde.
Gorgeous.
Green-eyed Goddess.
Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother—the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she's dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse…
Until Liam dies in a tragic motorcycle accident.
Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart.
Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces.
Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further into the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby.
Notes:
So I made this post on Tumblr the other day, and then this fic happened. If you haven't seen the tags, please read them before starting this story or becoming invested because it's very angsty. First of all, this starts out as Swan Jewel? I don't know what their ship name is or if there is an official name, but yes, Liam and Emma are in a relationship in the beginning, and I know it's not everyone's cup of tea. If you're not comfortable with that, I highly encourage you to hit the back button.
This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox, and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I've wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it's one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write a cs version. Also, I made this post about a Baby Yodarita drink last year when it was trending and since the beginning of this story starts one year prior, 2019 and since Killian is a bartender, it was a perfect way to include the prompt.
The title comes from the lyrics of the song, Lay By Me by Ruben. The particular line goes like this:
"I hope you know through the rising tide
That I'll be here and you can lay by my side"
If you've never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. It's an amazing song and very fitting for this story.
"Late again?" Liam chides when Ruby waltzes into work as if everything is completely normal. As if she's not an hour late for her shift.
For the third time that week.
She gives him an apologetic smile, but Killian knows she's not actually sorry.
He's just wondering who she was with this time.
"Won't happen again, boss."
"Damn right, it won't. This is your third warning. Next time, there will be a write-up," he admonishes.
Frustration creases her forehead. "Geez, would you just chill? My car broke down."
Liam crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. "So, you mean to tell me your car has broken down three times this week?" he asks, holding up three fingers. "And on either of these occasions, you couldn't pick up the phone and give me a heads up? Did your phone break, too?"
She flashes him a look as though the answer to his question is obvious. "I told you my car's a piece of junk. And I tried to call, but no one answered."
Killian fights off a laugh, knowing for a fact Ruby is bluffing. At least about calling tonight, since the phone hadn't rung in the past hour. But he could easily check to see if she'd called on the other two days on the bar phone's caller i.d. to find out for sure if he really wanted to.
"So get a new car. Don't you make enough from your tips and the hourly wage I pay you?"
"I make enough from my tips," she replies with a sarcastic smirk, "but I have more important things to buy."
Liam rolls his eyes. "Like what? More six-inch heels, low-cut tops and short skirts?"
Ruby lets out an exasperated sigh. "How do you think I get good tips—by dressing like a Catholic schoolgirl?" She twists her lips and presses the back of her long, red-painted fingernail to her chin, pondering her own words for a second. "On second thought, that actually might bring in even more tips. Besides, you should be paying for my work clothes. Maybe then I could afford a new car."
Liam scoffs. "You want me to pay for your outfits?" He shakes his head. "I don't think so."
Ruby's eyes widen, as though she's shocked he declined her request. "Why not? Can't you claim them as a work expense?"
He nods. "Alright, fine. But if I'm paying for your work attire, then I'm choosing what you wear. Sound good to you?" he asks, knowing damn well she'll never go for it.
Unsurprisingly, she shakes her head. "Absolutely not. I ain't wearing no damn polo shirt and black slacks. I like my low-cut tops and short skirts, thank you very much."
Liam sighs and cups his forehead in his hand to indicate she's giving him a headache as he turns around and walks toward his office. "Just get to work, Ruby."
She wraps her apron around her waist and mimics his words in a mocking tone, "Just get to work, Ruby."
"I heard that!" Liam hollers.
"I could be already serving customers if it weren't for my pain in the ass boss riding me every two goddamn seconds!" she shouts, hoping he heard that too.
Killian chuckles to himself as he rings up a customer for his drinks and hands him the change.
"That dude seriously needs to get laid," Ruby huffs. "Maybe then he'd back off a little."
"Ha! I doubt it," Killian comments before taking another drink order.
Ruby heads to the dining area to wait on customers. She knows Killian's not wrong to doubt Liam's ability to show a little mercy. He's worked for his brother for two years, longer than anyone has ever been able to stand working for him, and he's never once seen Liam be lenient, not even to his own brother. He runs a tight ship, and Killian doesn't see that ever changing. Liam has owned this bar for five years and takes his job very seriously.
Killian's just glad he only has to work here for another six months. Or at least that's the plan. He's about to graduate from Storybrooke University and get his degree in engineering. As much as he enjoys working for his brother, or rather listening to his coworkers complain about his brother behind Liam's back, he doesn't plan on spending his entire life making drinks.
Liam emerges from his office an hour later and announces he has to take off for a while to run some errands. Killian's confused because this is Liam's night to manage the bar. He dedicates the majority of his other time performing administrative tasks during the week.
"What errands do you have to run on a Friday night?" Killian asks, his words laced with suspicion.
"Just some errands I promised someone I'd take care of. You're in charge while I'm gone." He pulls on his jacket and leaves Killian behind the bar with a confused expression on his face, wondering what his brother is up to.
Killian brushes off the thought, deciding to further question him later.
Liam heads out the door, but not before scolding Ruby for sitting down at a table full of rowdy men, chatting (and not about the menu). She may be into women, but she flirts with customers regardless of their gender for the tips.
Ruby curses under her breath and gets up, moving to her next table to jot down orders.
Emma sighs as Mary Margaret grabs her hand and pulls her into The Captain's Rum. Or more like, drags her in kicking and screaming. She doesn't wish to be at this bar any more than she wanted to be at the last two. But her sister-in-law insists on the outlandish idea Emma's going to find Mr. Perfect tonight. Or somehow get over her asshole of an ex-boyfriend after one night of drinking.
And even though it's been two months since she left Neal and his thieving and cheating ass, and as much as she wants to get over him, Emma knows it's not gonna happen for a while. At least not tonight.
And yet, here she is.
One night of drinking can't hurt, she supposes. One night of forgetting everything. Of numbing her pain. Or so she keeps telling herself, but that could be the alcohol she's already imbibed at the other two bars speaking.
"So, how's it going tonight, Rubes?" Mary Margaret asks the cocktail server once they're seated at a booth.
Apparently, they know each other.
"Well, no one's tried to manhandle me yet, so it's a start." The tall brunette with red streaks in her hair leans over the table and murmurs, "Not a great start, but it's a start."
Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and laughs as she gestures at Emma. "Rubes, this is my sister-in-law, Emma. She just moved here from New York."
Looking at Emma, Ruby grins and sticks out her hand. "Hi! Nice to meet you!"
Emma gives her a polite smile and shakes her hand. "Likewise."
When Ruby brings the chips and cheese Mary Margaret ordered, she places them on the table along with two empty plates. Before arriving here, Mary Margaret decided they would put some food in their bellies before they added more alcohol so they wouldn't get too drunk too fast and have to head home early. Well, that was Mary Margaret's idea at least. Emma would much rather be home in the comfort of her bedroom watching Netflix. Or rather, her brother's and sister-in-law's guestroom they so graciously let her sleep in until she gets her own place.
"Enjoy, ladies."
"Sure will," Mary Margaret beams as Ruby leaves their table. She sips on some water as she scans the bar. Probably for potential suitors she can hook her sister-in-law up with, Emma surmises. "What about him? He's cute," Mary Margaret remarks, her eyes trained on someone behind her.
Emma looks over her shoulder and arches a brow. "He's cute if you're sixteen. He looks way too young."
"Well, he's drinking, so he must be at least twenty-one," Mary Margaret points out.
"He looks sixteen, and sorry, I don't date children."
"Emma, he's not a child, probably a college student. And you act like you're so old just because you already graduated. You're twenty-two," Mary Margaret points out like she's jealous and wishes to be so young again. But she's only a few years older—the same age as David.
Emma groans. "No, thanks." Her last boyfriend was immature enough as it was, and he was ten years her senior. "So, tell me, how are you and my brother getting along?" Emma asks, attempting to change the subject and get her sister-in-law to avert her attention from the college boys across the room. "Sick of each other yet?"
Mary Margaret whips her head around and scowls. "Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?"
Emma laughs and raises her hands in defense. "Because I knew it was the only thing that would get your attention."
Guilt and apology flicker in Mary Margaret's eyes. "Sorry, Emma." She lays her palms on the table. "David and I are just worried about you, that's all."
Emma sighs, frustration creasing her forehead. "I'm fine, I promise. Neal was an ass, and honestly, him cheating on me was a good thing. I needed the wake-up call, okay? I was blinded by love. But now that we're over, I can move on with my life. That's why I let you talk me into bar hopping."
A slow, hopeful smile spreads across her lips. "I know, and I'm so happy you got out of that relationship, Emma. David and I both are."
Emma laughs. "I know. When I landed on your door stoop, we both had to stop him from driving all the way to New York to kick Neal's ass."
Mary Margaret nods. "True. He's very protective of you."
Emma rolls her eyes. "I know. It's both a blessing and a curse." She takes a sip of water as she scans the bar. It's the first time she's been to The Captain's Rum, and everyone is so unfamiliar to her. New York is a huge place, especially compared to Storybrooke, but in this bar, it feels like she's back in New York. She swears everyone in Storybrooke is here.
Ruby returns to their table to sit and chat. And steal some of their chips, double-dipping them in the cheese. Emma fights off the urge to laugh at this as her eyes wander past Ruby's shoulder.
Huge mistake.
The group at the bar counter disperses, revealing the most gorgeous sight she's ever seen.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
She loses a breath when she sees what she can only describe as a fine specimen.
Good Lord.
Handsome features and such a delicious smile to accompany his perfect face as he chats with a male patron at the bar, she finds herself licking her lips.
"What about him?" Emma manages when she's able to find the words in her throat.
Mary Margaret's eyes light up before she even looks to see who Emma is staring so unabashedly at. "Who?!" She and Ruby both turn their heads, their eyes following the path of Emma's gaze until they land on the target.
"You mean the bartender?" Mary Margaret asks, though, to Emma's surprise, she doesn't seem very excited; more like disappointed.
Emma tears her gaze away from the bartender, as much as she doesn't want to. But she couldn't breathe when she looked at him and she needed to come up for air. "Yeah, why not?"
"Why not what?" Ruby asks as she looks at Emma, curiosity flashing in her big hazel eyes. "Because if you're asking 'why not jump his bones,' then I can't think of one good reason."
"Ruby, don't encourage her," Mary Margaret chides with a glare.
Ruby frowns, confusion etched in her features. "Why not?"
"Because… Killian is a player. Emma just broke up with her player of a boyfriend a couple of months ago. She doesn't need another one in her life."
"Um, excuse me, I'm right here," Emma groans wryly. "And I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions."
"She's not wrong though," Ruby remarks. "He is a player. But a fucking hot player. Between the two of us, we've conquered all the women of Storybrooke."
Emma lifts a brow. "Does that mean what I think it means?"
"Yep. Probably even some of the same women," she winks, her words bearing no shame or remorse.
"Ruby, would you stop? Besides, neither of you have conquered me," Mary Margaret points out with air quotes.
Ruby rolls her eyes. "Of course not. Prince Charming had already parked his car in your garage long ago." She reverts her eyes to Emma. "If you're looking for a relationship, he's definitely not for you…" she leans over toward Emma, speaking softly, "but if you're looking for a hookup to get over that cheating ex of yours, then he's absolutely perfect for that. He'll give you an orgasm sooooo hard, you'll forget all about that scumbag. Then he'll do it over and over again until he knows you won't be able to walk for weeks." Ruby grins wide. "Hell, you'll forget your own fucking name for weeks."
Emma gulps, having to recover from the images Ruby implanted in her mind of the man on the other side of the bar. Once she recovers, she furrows her brows at the conclusions she's drawn from Ruby's graphic depictions of what a night with the handsome, dark-haired bartender would be like. "How would you know? Have you two—"
Ruby laughs as though Emma just said the funniest thing she's ever heard in her life. "Oh Gaaaaawwwwd, no! I don't swing that way, honey," she says, rising and waving off Emma's words with a flick of her hand. "But I've seen the number Killian's done on his conquests. People talk, especially the drunk, horny females who enter the bar. Plus, as I said, he's my competition, so I have to know what he's working with… if you know what I mean," she says with a wink.
"Yeah, I got it," Emma groans as Ruby saunters away. Why do all the hot guys have to be players?
It's just her luck.
Emma turns to catch another look at him.
God, he's gorgeous.
Dark, wild hair, stubble on his chin and cheeks, and a fantastic body based on what she can see from her vantage point.
"Emma! Don't even think about it! That man's trouble and you know David would never approve," Mary Margaret explains, pulling Emma from her trance.
She turns her head, glaring at her sister-in-law. "David is not my father. And besides, I'm a grown-ass woman! He can't tell me who I can or cannot date."
Mary Margaret gives her a motherly look. "I know, sweetie, but this man doesn't date women, he fucks them and then sends them packing. David only wants to protect you from guys like him."
"I don't need his protection, okay? Or yours. I'm perfectly capable of looking out for myself." Emma stands from her seat, and she's not sure if it's because of the alcohol still brewing in her system, or because her sister-law has expressed disapproval from both her and David, making this man seem like a forbidden, sinful dessert she's dying to get a taste of, even though she'll pay for it later. But right now she doesn't give a fuck.
She sucks in a breath and strides across the bar, ignoring Mary Margaret's pleas and warnings.
Her eyes are fixed on him like a magnet. He's wearing a black v-neck that fits him like a glove and shows off a provocative amount of chest hair, his tight, firm muscles bulging as he wipes down the bar counter. His muscles aren't inhumanly large, just big enough for her to imagine him picking her up and easily carrying her to his bedroom like she weighs nothing. Emma can feel her panties grow wet just from watching him work.
But even though she doesn't wish to be told who to be with, she knows she should heed her sister-in-law's warnings.
What would one night of fun hurt, though? She's spent too much time holed up in her New York apartment, wallowing in self-pity and heartache after Neal hurt her. She hasn't been with anyone since then. And maybe she's not looking to dive into a serious relationship right now. Or ever. Maybe she just wants to blow off some steam. And this man looks like he can handle such a task. She's more than willing to find out.
Emma approaches the bar and stands in front of him, placing her hands on the counter.
"What can I get you, lass?"
Well, fuck me sideways.
He has a British accent too?
She knows she should run for her life, but before she can talk herself out of it, he looks up from his task, and she feels like her feet are glued to the floor.
Ho-ly hell.
He's even more gorgeous up close.
His arms are inked with tattoos she so badly wants to trace with her fingers, and his striking blue eyes sparkle as he stares at her, his smile showing off a set of pearly white teeth.
Well shit.
She couldn't run away if she wanted to.
Killian had been running back and forth behind the bar for hours, ringing up bar patrons, making drinks and engaging in small talk. It's a typical Friday night at The Captain's Rum; the place is normally busy on the weekends, especially since the bar is only a stone's throw away from the university, and tonight is no exception. It's crowded and loud, couples are dancing, and the women are scantily clad in either tiny dresses or short tops and skirts. As he's grabbing beers and making cocktails, the bar continues to fill and grow louder.
He hands off drinks to a couple before moving on to the next customer.
"Hey Jones, can I get two Blue Ribbons?" his good mate, Robin, calls over the blaring music.
Killian chuckles and grabs the desired beers, popping off the caps before handing them over. "Taking it easy tonight?" he asks, leaning against the counter and gripping the edge of it with both hands.
"Aye. Regina doesn't like the hard stuff. She's more of a wine person."
"Ah, I see." Killian nods; he can definitely see that about Regina. He doesn't want to say this to one of his best mates, but the lass can be a little stuck up and quite bossy at times. She makes Robin happy though, so he keeps his mouth shut.
He chats with him for a few minutes, finally getting a few minutes of reprieve. As Robin heads back to his girlfriend, Killian takes the opportunity to wipe down the bar top. But before he's finished, someone approaches the counter. His eyes are still trained on his task, but he can't miss the long blonde hair, pink lace and fantastic cleavage, seeing as the view is directly in front of him. "What can I get you, lass?" he asks, throwing on his most charming grin as he lifts his head.
His smile is cemented on his face the second he looks up.
Killian's accustomed to seeing pretty women entering his brother's bar and parading around in clothes that barely cover their essential parts.
Yet nothing in the world could've prepared him for the woman standing in front of him on the other side of the bar counter.
No, not woman.
Goddess.
Emerald green eyes, soft pink lips curved into a shy smile, smooth creamy skin, long golden hair cascading over her shoulders.
Good.
God.
She's breathtaking.
Stunning.
"What would you recommend?" she asks in a teasing tone.
Fuck.
Her voice is that of an angel's. Pure and sweet and innocent.
She looks like everything he doesn't deserve but wants every... fucking... part of.
"Uh… I um…" he stutters, scratching nervously behind his ear. He can't form a cohesive sentence as he looks into those hypnotizing eyes. He wants to get lost in them, drown in them. "What are you… what are you in the mood for, love?" he finally musters, adding another one of his signature grins. "I can make you anything your heart desires." What he wants to say is, "I can give you anything your heart desires," but even that may not be true. As gorgeous as she is, he's afraid he wouldn't be the man she deserves. He's never been the guy women like to take home to their parents, anyway. He's the guy chicks like to have around for a good time before they eventually settle into a serious relationship with Mr. Perfect. He's definitely no Mr. Perfect, more like a Good Luck Chuck, but at the moment, he feels like he could be fucking Superman for this woman. And he's only exchanged a few words with her so far.
She arches a brow and it's literally the most adorable and sexiest thing he's ever witnessed in his life. "Anything?" He senses a challenge in her tone.
"Try me," he encourages.
She bites her bottom lip in thought.
He lied. Now that's the most adorable and sexiest thing he's ever witnessed.
"What if I said I wanted a Baby Yodarita?"
He arches a brow, very much intrigued. "A Baby Yodarita? Never heard of it."
She laughs and the sound is music to his ears. "That's because I made up the name. But I figure it would be a green drink that looks like baby Yoda."
"So, I take it you're a Star Wars fan?"
"Are you a bartender?"
Just as he answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world, since he's behind the bar serving drinks, he catches her drift and flashes a smirk.
Could this woman be any hotter? And yes, as he's asking this question in his head, he's picturing Chandler Bing and the way he would say it, emphasizing the word be. Gods, he hates that he knows that about Friends. He hates that he actually likes that show.
"You don't really have to be a Star Wars fan to be a baby Yoda fan though. He's so cute, he's trending on the internet, haven't you seen?"
He chuckles. "Aye, who hasn't?"
She plants her hand on her hip, donning a sultry smirk. "So, are you up for the task, or not?"
He licks his lips and leans over the bar counter, his eyes locked with hers. He wants to ask her if she fell from heaven. Or if he just died and went to heaven. But he has a feeling cheesy lines wouldn't work on a woman like her. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific as to what task you're referring to, love." But who the fuck is he kidding? There is nothing he could do for her he would consider a task.
Only a pleasure.
Blush paints her cheeks and she leans over, meeting him halfway until her face is mere inches from his. "I have a few in mind… but how 'bout that drink, first?"
Bloody. Fuck-ing. Hell.
Her voice is a mixture of sweet and seductive. He doesn't know how she manages to pull off a combination like that. His eyes drop to her lips and he's seriously considering kissing the holy fuck out of her over the bar counter, audience be damned. He almost groans just thinking about her soft, luscious looking lips pressed against his, but he swallows the sound before it leaves his throat.
He lifts his eyes to hers. "Sit tight, sweetheart."
"Okay," she says with a smile and takes a seat on a barstool. "Oh, and a Cosmo for my sister-in-law."
"Coming right up." It takes every ounce of strength within him to pull away, but somehow he does.
He has to take slow, deep breaths to peel his mind from the fantasies he's already having of him and the blonde temptress watching him intently as he prepares her drink.
Emma snorts. She honestly didn't think he would actually take her seriously. She was only kidding around. But he took her very seriously and eagerly accepted her challenge. And he did an amazing job.
She stares at the green drink in amusement, impressed, to say the least. He brought it to her in a margarita glass with two lime wedges sticking out like ears. The stem is wrapped in a napkin tied with twine and clearly made to look like Baby Yoda's coat. And there's a cocktail stick tucked into the twine like a sword.
"Well? How did I do?" he asks, eagerly seeking her answer.
"It's so cute," she comments honestly. "It looks great, but does it taste as good as it looks?" As she asks that question, she's looking up into his gorgeous eyes. And she can't deny she's wondering the same about him.
Does he taste as good as he looks?
Before she brings the glass to her lips, he puts up a finger to stop her.
"Hold on." He grabs a toothpick and stabs two cherries, one on each end, before sticking it into the drink and giving the baby Yoda a pair of eyes. "For the finishing touch," he smirks.
After she stops laughing, she takes a hesitant drink. Once she takes the first sip, her face sours and she blinks a few times as she swallows. "Wow, that's strong." She arches her brow, pinning him with an accusatory stare. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
He chuckles. "Aye, isn't that the intention?"
She nods and grins. "This will certainly do the trick." She rises from the stool and reaches into her back pocket, pulling out her phone case wallet, which holds her phone and money. "How much?" she asks, pulling out some cash.
He waves off her offer. "The drinks are on me," he says with a wink.
"Are you sure? I don't wanna get you in trouble."
"Trust me, I won't get in trouble."
Taking his word for it, she tucks the cash into her wallet. "Thanks for the drinks, Killian."
He arches a sultry brow, making her heart skip a beat. "So, you've heard of me, but I have yet to learn your name?"
She laughs and points at the name embroidered into his shirt. "Yours is right there."
"Oh, that," he chuckles, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he peers down and brushes his fingers over the letters. "My boss insists we have our names displayed on our shirts."
"Well, your boss sounds like a pain in the ass."
"He is, but I only have to work here for another six months. I'm graduating from SBU in the Spring."
She nods as a group of people approach the counter beside her. She glances over at them and shifts her gaze back to him, wishing he had more time to chat, but she knows he has to work. "It's Emma," she makes sure to tell him before the counter becomes too overcrowded. "My name," she adds, in case that wasn't obvious.
"It's nice to meet you, Emma," he says sweetly, reaching over to shake her hand. When she slips her palm into his, she can feel the sparks from his touch, but instead of shaking her hand, he brings it to his lips and kisses the back of it.
Oh, God.
This man's lips on her skin feel like heaven and sin. She has to clench her thighs to stop the throbbing she feels between her legs.
Fuck.
She feels the loss when she pulls her hand away and sees the loss written all over his face. "Well, I should, um… I should get back to my sister-in-law," she stammers after learning how to form words again.
He scratches behind his ear and opens his mouth to speak before closing it again like he's nervous about something. "Of course, love."
Emma swallows thickly and lingers a bit, patiently waiting for him to say what's on his mind.
He must sense she's waiting for him because as she grabs the drinks and starts to back away from the counter, his voice stops her. "Emma?"
Good Lord, she loves the way her name slides off his tongue.
She cocks a brow, hoping he's about to ask for her number. Praying he does. "Yes?"
"I um… can you come back here before you leave? Say in an hour when it slows down a bit? I'd love to chat with you some more," he says sincerely.
Emma purses her lips like she has to mull over his question. The offer is extremely tempting. But she has something else in mind other than talking. Something involving his hands all over her body and her legs wrapped around his hips as he's plunging into her.
And you know what? Fuck it.
She's sure whatever he has in mind is exactly what she has in mind. Or at least, close to it. "Sure."
His eyes widen in excitement and surprise, as though he wasn't actually expecting her to say yes. "Really?"
She flashes him her sexiest grin. "Yeah, why not? I'll see you in an hour."
"See you then, love. Enjoy your drink. May the booze be with you."
She snorts and backs away from the counter, holding up her glass in salute before taking a sip. Their eyes are still locked before she turns around.
As she walks away, she cranes her neck to see him still watching her, even as he's serving other customers. She winks at him and has the pleasure of witnessing that adorable pink blush coloring his cheeks and the smirk on his lips before she faces forward and heads back to Mary Margaret.
She's not looking forward to the lecture her sister-in-law is about to give her, but honestly, she doesn't care. She's looking forward to returning to the hot bartender, hoping to go back to his bedroom. Or the restroom. Either will do, really. As long as she gets to have him.
After Mary Margaret is done chewing Emma out and reminding her of what a player Killian is, and after she finally realizes Emma is going to do what she wants, regardless of what anyone says, they are able to have some fun.
Ruby keeps the drinks coming, and soon they're tipsy enough to get up and dance among the crowd of gyrating bodies already on the dance floor. Emma glances over at the counter every now and then, and every other time, she catches Killian staring at her, sending shivers down her spine. And every time he tosses her one of his cheeky smiles, her stomach flutters with butterflies.
Emma's thankful Mary Margaret is plastered enough to let loose and not give her any shit because she has no idea what Mary Margaret would do if Emma told her she's going back to talk to Killian. Though she has a feeling if Mary Margaret were sober, she'd do anything in her power to make sure Emma stayed away from him.
When the time finally comes, they order an Uber, which takes much longer than expected. She helps Mary Margaret into the backseat and tells her she's staying for a bit longer and will catch another Uber when she's ready to leave. She doesn't dare mention Killian's name, or that she plans on leaving with him, for fear Mary Margaret will blabber to her brother. Because then he'll come marching into the bar on his white horse to find his sister with the bartender and embarrass the hell out of her.
Mary Margaret's too drunk and in no shape to talk her out of anything, so Emma's able to escape, knowing her brother will take care of his wife when she gets home.
Emma quickly shoots David a text to let him know his wife had a few too many drinks and is on her way home in an Uber and that Emma decided to stay a little longer but will be home soon. Which is a lie.
She hopes.
Before the Uber drives away, Emma slips her phone into her pocket before heading back into the bar. She's fifteen minutes late, but it's not like Killian can go anywhere. He's the bartender.
Once inside, she takes a deep breath and tucks some hair behind her ears, a smile playing along her lips as she makes her way to the bar counter. She has no idea what exactly will happen once she reaches him, but with a face as gorgeous as his, she's pretty sure she would let him do anything he wanted to.
She's also pretty sure he could help Emma get over her ex. As they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And that's exactly what she plans on doing.
As Emma nears the counter and spots Killian, the beaming smile on her face immediately falls flat.
And her heart sinks.
A busty blonde is standing at the bar, her hand running up and down Killian's arm, her fingers tracing his tattoos. The woman is sitting on a barstool at the opposite side of the counter in a low-cut top that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and a skirt so short and tight it looks like it's been painted on. Killian's standing in front of her, so his back is to Emma as he gives his full attention to the other blonde. It's almost time for last call, so it's now much quieter in the bar, and she's close enough to be able to hear their conversation.
"What can I get you, love?"
"A Tequila."
"Tequilas are trouble," he says matter-of-factly.
She moves in closer, biting her smile. "So am I," she taunts.
"I'm fully aware," he replies with a chuckle. He tries to move, probably to make her Tequila, but she grabs his arm, forcing him to stay. Though, forcing is a bit of an overstatement; Killian doesn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. "Would you like a snack, too?"
Mischief dances in her eyes as she licks her lips, ogling him like he's the snack. "I'm looking at it, honey."
Emma feels like she's going to be sick.
The woman leans in and bites his ear and then pulls away slightly. "Last weekend was incredible. Can't stop thinking about having my legs wrapped around you," she giggles.
Jealousy stabs Emma's gut and disappointment shoots through her like a lightning bolt, bringing her back to reality.
Mary Margaret and Ruby were totally right.
He's a player.
Unable to listen to them for another second, Emma spins on her heels and dashes out the door so fast, she almost tramples over some guys heading in at the last minute.
She should've listened to the warnings, but she was too blinded by the attraction she felt for Killian.
God, she's a fucking idiot.
Why does she always fall for the dangerous guys? The ones who are bad for her? Why can't she just find a nice guy for once? Someone safe. Someone who won't stomp on her heart and discard it like trash without batting an eye.
She pushes open the door, tears stinging her eyes as she runs outside into the bitter, chilly night, hoping the Uber driver hasn't taken off yet. But it's wishful thinking because she can't think of a reason why he wouldn't have left by now.
"Ooof."
The air rushes from her lungs as she slams into a tall, solid mass.
Hands are gripping her arms to keep her from falling as apologies leave her lips. "Sorry." She looks up at the man towering over her, Emma's eyes connecting with soft blue ones, which are full of apology.
He flashes a warm smile, his lips framed by a light brown scruff.
"I'm the one who should be sorry, lass. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
Shit.
He has an accent too?
What's with all the accents in this town? She's noticed a lot of the locals here weren't actually born here. Or the States. She didn't realize how much she liked men with foreign accents until tonight.
This man continues to apologize, but he doesn't sound very sorry. At least not for crashing into her. "I was distracted," he says with a smirk, giving Emma the impression she was what he was distracted by.
Emma tears herself from the trance she's in and glances at the side of the road, where the Uber once was. "Shit," she curses under her breath.
"Are you okay?" he asks in genuine concern.
"Yeah, it's just… my ride has already left. And I'm too drunk to drive home," she sighs.
Before the man can respond, his phone chimes from his jacket. "Excuse me," he says apologetically, pulling out the device. He studies whatever's on the screen with a worried expression, then looks up at her, his mouth slightly agape.
"Everything okay?" she asks with an arched brow, starting to shiver as a frigid wind sweeps around her.
"Um, yeah." He glances at his phone again before lifting his gaze. "You wouldn't happen to be Emma, would you?"
She freezes and just stares at him, not knowing how to answer that. Or rather, why she should answer that.
What the hell?
She's never seen this man before in her life, so how does he know her name?
Her heart pounds and she wants to run, but she's afraid she's not sober enough for that at the moment. "How do you know my name?"
He appears to be hesitant as he holds up his phone, showing her his screen.
Emma takes it in her hands so she can get a better look.
Her eyes widen when she sees a text from a Nolan.
Nolan, as in her brother? Who else with the last name, Nolan, lives with a Mary Margaret and an Emma?
Nolan: I just received a text from Emma. She sent Mary Margaret home in an Uber and is at your bar. Can you make sure she gets home all right?
Her blood sizzles as she rereads the message. Then she reads the texts before it, a couple in particular sticking out like sore thumbs.
Nolan: So… I have a huge favor to ask.
Me: Sure, what's up, mate?
Nolan: The wife and sister are going to the Rabbit Hole tonight. Emma just moved here from New York after a terrible break-up and Mary Margaret is determined to hook her up with someone.
Nolan: Think you have time to get away from work and keep an eye on my sister, make sure she doesn't find any trouble?
What the actual fuck?
Why is her brother having this man spy on her?
Emma turns around and pulls back the hand still holding the phone, about to toss the damn thing.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't shoot the messenger, love," he pleads. "I need my phone."
The endearment makes her shiver. Killian had called her love, too.
She spins around to glare at the stranger. "David's using you to spy on me?" she demands firmly.
He holds up his hands in surrender. "I didn't want to, lass, I promise, but I would've felt terrible if I said no and then, later on, found out something bad happened to you. I promise, I was only helping a friend and looking out for you."
Emma sighs and hands his phone back, knowing he's telling the truth. She saw his responses to David's texts and gathered he didn't wish to put his nose where it didn't belong or to stir up any trouble. "David always has been good at persuading people," she grumbles.
"Aye, especially when it comes to protecting the ones he loves," he winks.
"Even so, he has no business spying on me!" she states louder than intended.
"I wholeheartedly agree," he states adamantly, making sure to express how much he was against this whole idea, to begin with.
Emma crosses her arms over her chest, wondering how she never saw him at the Rabbit Hole when she was there. "So, you spied on me at the Rabbit Hole?"
He shakes his head. "No, I didn't get the chance to. By the time I got there, you and Mary Margaret were already gone."
Emma shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the thought of her own brother asking someone to spy on her. But she's not surprised. "Brothers are so annoying," she grumbles.
He chuckles, and the deep, hearty sound warms her heart a little, despite the chill in the air. "Agreed."
She arches her brow, as though to ask him to expand on why.
"I have one of those, too. So I get it."
Emma's features soften, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Older or younger?"
"Younger. He can be quite the ponce sometimes, but at the end of the day, I'd lay down my life for him."
"I usually feel the same about David… and then he goes and pulls something like this," Emma remarks bitterly.
"I take it he does this a lot?"
"He did when we were younger. But then I moved to New York and he came here, so we didn't see each other very much."
"Ah, I see."
Another gust of wind makes her shiver and has him removing his jacket and offering it to her. Even though she's already wearing one.
"May I?"
She cocks a brow. "Won't you be cold?"
He shrugs. "I rarely get cold."
She gives him a soft nod. He looks like he'd be the type of man who knows how to stay warm, and therefore knows how to keep a woman warm. He has those big, strong arms and broad shoulders, and he's very tall. She could picture herself being buried in his warmth, but maybe because she's currently freezing her ass off. "Thanks," she murmurs when he goes behind her and drapes the jacket over her shoulders.
"It's my pleasure, love." When he's standing in front of her again, he sticks out his hand. "The name's Liam."
Emma smiles and slips her palm in his.
She was right. He is warm. Very warm. "I think David's mentioned your name a few times."
"Probably not as much as he talks about you. In fact, I feel like I already know you," he chuckles as they break the handshake.
"Hopefully, he had good things to say?" She almost groans at the idea of David spewing a bunch of embarrassing stories about her from when she was a kid.
"Aye. Very good things… well, mostly," he admits. "But who doesn't have at least a complaint or two about their siblings?"
She nods in agreement. "True. I complain about him all the time."
He grins big and wide. "I don't doubt that." When his smile fades a little, he scratches his head as he looks at her, hesitant to form the next words he wants to say. "Well, uh… seeing as it's," he checks his watch, "almost two o'clock and not getting any warmer out here, how about I give you a ride home?"
Emma twists her lips in thought. Normally she wouldn't even think twice about rejecting a ride from a stranger, but there's something about this guy that tells her he's not a serial killer or rapist. There's something pure about him, a vast contrast to the bartender inside. That guy screamed danger and sin, but this man standing before her gives off completely different vibes. He has a warm personality, which is very refreshing, and he has honest eyes. Besides, she may not be able to stand her brother and his antics sometimes, but he's always had good taste in friends. And if David trusts Liam enough to keep tabs on his sister, then he must be trustworthy.
So with a feeble smile, she finally answers. "Okay."