Torin (Hope City #9) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,18

runners around them anymore, he was able to focus his attention on her, pleased to see that she often looked up toward him as well.

Before he had a chance to think of something else to say, she asked, “Have you always wanted to own your own business?”

A bark of laughter rang out before he was able to give a more refined answer. Blushing, he explained, “I don’t know that I ever thought of anything else.”

“Really?”

“The Celtic Cock has been in my family for a long time.”

“Oh, I had no idea.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “No reason for you to know. But a pub had been there for a long time. My great-grandfather did some business for the original owner by selling bootleg whiskey during prohibition. My grandfather bought it and renamed it, practically raising my father here.”

“I’m curious about the name.”

“The cockerel has a long history of significance. It was a constellation, Gallus, in the early 1600s, but the stars became part of another constellation that replaced it. Almost every society has attached meaning to the rooster. Because of its fighting ability, it was often on the helmets and shields of ancient warriors. It also stands for pride and arrogance, courage and confidence, pride and hope. But mostly, I like the biblical meaning.” She tilted her head to the side, her attention riveted to him, and he knew he could drown in her penetrating, blue-eyed gaze. “It represents the night has passed and a new day awaits. Light comes after the darkness.”

She sucked in a hasty breath. “That’s… I had no idea. That’s beautiful.” A moment of thick silence moved between them before she cleared her throat. “So, um… your grandfather took over the pub?”

“Yeah. He and my grandmother ran it for a long time and said he’d pass it down to me and my sister, Maeve. She went to community college and got an Associate's Degree in Business, and then went to mixologist school so that she could do some of the cocktails that made my grandfather laugh. He always said in his day they just sold liquor, beer, and wine.”

Glancing down, he saw that her rapt attention was still focused on him. Grinning, he continued. “I’m only a year older than Maeve, but I joined the military right out of high school. My grandmother would have preferred that I went to college, but my grandfather agreed with my decision. I wanted a chance to get out of Hope City and learn a trade. He agreed that if I did so, I’d know if coming back to Hope City was what I really wanted to do. Also, I’d know if owning and working in a bar was going to make me happy. It didn’t matter that I’d practically been raised in the Celtic Cock. I guess I needed a chance to spread my wings.”

“What branch did you serve in?” Her voice had gone soft again, but she glanced up at him, her blue eyes continually seeking his.

“Army.” He started to say more, then quieted when he saw her nod and turn her focus back to running again.

After another moment where the only sound around them was their running shoes slapping the sidewalk and cars driving by, she finally looked over again. “So, since you’re back in Hope City and working in your family pub, I assume you discovered that’s what you wanted to do and where you wanted to be.”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t trade those years in the military for anything. Not the experiences or the friendships. But when it was over, I was ready to come back home.” He felt as though he’d given so much more information about himself than he learned about her but knew it was a beginning. It was the most they’d ever shared, the longest they’d ever chatted.

They slowed at the next intersection and he could have sworn when she looked up there was regret on her face.

She sighed while jogging in place. “I need to head back now. I still have several more miles to go before I get home, and I need to get some studying accomplished before I go to work. But thank you, Torin. This has been really… well, it’s been…” She shrugged, her eyes cast down for a moment before she looked back up and held his gaze. “It’s been really nice.”

From any other woman, the word nice would probably be a throwaway. But from her, it sounded real, and he’d take anything real he could get from Erin