My body begs me to respond, to throw myself at him and force him to make good on the promises of his eyes. Somehow, I manage to hold myself in check. He wants me, at least that's what that look says. Yet at the same time, it's clear that he doesn't want to want me; his hands are clutching the edge of the counter behind him, his body rigid, and he looks as though he is warring with himself. Insecurity rearing her ugly head insists it is because I'm inadequate; I'm not pretty enough, or young enough, or sexy enough. That's why he is holding himself back.
While my brain entertains insecurity's declarations, my intuition tells me something different. There is something in Ian's past that has changed him, he alluded to as much when we had brunch. And whatever it was, it forces him to keep himself in check at all times; ever in control. What would it take to make him let himself go completely? What would an out of control Ian look like?
Suddenly, I crave to experience Ian in full force, no holds barred. I wonder if I could handle it? A part of me doubts any woman could; but oh, how I would try.
Shaking my head, I push my way back into the bar, leaving this turmoil behind me.
Chapter 4: The Big O
I end up being a pirate for Halloween. It's a flirty costume that shows off my cleavage, and allows me to wear black leggings underneath the obscenely short skirt. No thighs in sight, thank you very much.
As Ian had indicated, the pub is madness! Although I've been on the job almost three weeks, I'm not sure I'm up to the task. I'm stationed at the door beside Hal to help with the auction. As people come in with things to donate, I catalogue the item and create a suggested starting price. I also hand out numbered paddles, taking people's names and numbers to keep track of the bidders.
Starting at 6pm, there is a constant stream of people flowing into the place. By 7pm, there is a line out the door. I move as quickly as I can, but there is no break until we finally reach maximum capacity and have to stop admitting people lest we get in trouble with the fire marshal. There's still a line outside and Hal tells me it'll be there all night.
Ian and Sean are both tending, and Tracey is serving up a steady stream of stew. I begin taking the items to the stage and making sure everything is organized. The auction goes on throughout the night and is broken into rounds. Each round has about five items and I'm trying to get a good mix of low and high priced items in each round.
I'm also responsible for writing down the winning bids, and keeping a tally to determine the winner of the ale on tap for a year. In between rounds, I'm supposed to collect the money and give people their stuff. It is a ton of work and all I can think is, how the hell did they do this without me?
"Welcome to McGregors everyone and to this year's auction," Pappy says into a handheld mic that's hooked up to a couple amps set up on the stage. A cheer goes up and everyone looks toward the stage.
"As usual, ye all have come out with some incredible stuff. There's also some total crap, but as they say, one man's trash is another man's treasure. Well, ‘tis likely to take a couple more pints in ye for some o' this stuff to pass as treasure."
The crowd laughs and Pappy beams. He's clearly in his element, and it is adorable. I look over at Ian and he's grinning down at the beer he's pulling.
"This charity, New Directions for Veterans, is near and dear to our hearts, and me lad and I thank ye for your donations." I look again at Ian; his face has become solemn. Why would this charity be special to them? Pappy couldn't have served, at least, not in the U.S. Had Ian served?
"Let's start this jig! Kelli, would ye bring up the first item?" I jump up from my seat at the back of the stage and grab a Kindle. It is in good condition, and is only a year or two old, so I'm hoping we can get $15 or $20 for it. I hand it to Pappy who takes it with a nod of his head, "Can we have a round of applause for me beautiful assistant?" The crowd is in a great mood and I get a rousing ovation. I begin blushing profusely; I'm not a fan of public displays and am suddenly blinded as Tom takes a picture of me on stage.
Always trying to generate publicity, I made damn sure we were going to take full advantage of the auction for press. Ian wasn't thrilled about it, thinking it was tacky to try and profit from a philanthropic activity. I reminded him that the more people who knew about the auction, the more money it would raise for the charity, and he relented.
I had called the Santa Monica Daily Press in the hopes they might cover it, and asked Tom to take photos throughout the night for the website and social media channels I had created for the pub. I was a little worried that all the pictures would be of beautiful women, but ultimately decided that'd be an okay gamble because pretty women sell alcohol, so all would not be lost. To hedge my bet, I gave him a shot list and planned to remind him of it throughout the night. A photo of me was not on the list, and would not be used in any media; I'd make damn sure of that.
"Kelli darlin', help an old man out. I have no idea what this contraption is," Pappy says, playing up the feeble old man bit. Why, I'm not entirely sure, but I roll my eyes and respond, "Oh, really Pappy? You have no idea what this is? Didn't I see you reading the latest Clancy novel on one of these only yesterday?"
The crowd appreciates our banter and the noise level in the room rises as they hoot.
Pappy gives the crowd a sheepish smile and shrugs his shoulders. "Ye all can't blame me for tryin' to keep her by my side, now can ye?" The crowd cheers and I smile, shaking my head, but quickly retreat to the back of the stage. I'm really not interested in co-hosting the auction, and besides, I have so much to do as it is.
I get back to my seat as Pappy begins the bidding. I look up and my eyes are drawn to Ian, who is staring at me. As usual, I have no idea what that look in his eyes means, but I do know it begins a tingling between my legs. He's dressed in all black tonight, and is gorgeous beyond belief. When I razzed him for not wearing a costume, he opened his mouth and showed a pair of plastic fangs. The thought has me smiling and he returns the smile before turning his attention back to his waiting customers.
The Kindle sells for $13.50 and we are on to the next item. The night flies by and before I know it, it's 2am. We have raised $7,894 dollars for the charity, and the winner of the free ale for a year is Wilson.
At 3am it's just me, Pappy and Ian, finishing up the auction paperwork. When I start to gush over how generous Wilson is, Ian quickly puts me in my place.
"It has nothing to do with sweetness, Kelli," he says rather rudely. "He's a savvy man and knows he's likely to spend twice as much throughout the year on beer."
I give Ian a perturbed look and refuse to accept that. "He couldn't be guaranteed to win, Ian. What if he bid all he did, but was outbid at the end? Then he'd have to pay out for all that stuff, and buy drinks all year. Besides, we are talking about Wilson here! How much do you really think he spends here each year?"
Ian doesn't reply. I check in with Pappy, "What's his problem?"
Pappy is giving his son a hard look, and it strikes me that I'm not the only one who doesn't understand Ian; it's a comforting though. Pappy looks at me and shakes his head, but says nothing.
"I don't have a problem," Ian answers. "I just don't think you need to go about canonizing Wilson because he won free beer for a year." Ian looks weary, and I have to admit, so am I. It has been an exhausting night and all I want to do is crawl in bed.
As if sensing my thoughts, he says, "Let's call it a night. We can deal with this tomorrow. I'll walk you home."
"It's okay, there are plenty of people about, I'll be fine walking by myself," I say, grabbing my stuff.
"Don't be daft," he says.
"Daft?" I can't help but begin cracking up at that. I'm probably delirious, but who says daft? Suddenly, it is the funniest thing I've ever heard.
Pappy and Ian must be feeling the strains of the night as well, because they too begin laughing and before long we are all in hysterics. Ian wipes a tear from his eye and puts his hand at my back, ushering me out through the kitchen door.
I'm too tired to fight, so I let him walk me home without any further fuss, and enjoy the feel of his hand which remains at my back the entire walk home.
******
Thankfully, it seems as though the city had partied itself out on Halloween and we are having a nice mellow Sunday at the pub. We finished up the auction details earlier in the day. Of course, the entire crew is there and it has been a fun evening. Jaye is in rare form and is making our brood of hung over regulars into a merry band, guffawing and exclaiming, and ordering more beer. Ian jokes about hiring him as the Pub Jester, offering him a cut of the night's till.