Pursued by the Rogue (The Fairy Tales of New York Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

barely made money. Simple fact. “How did Sully’s go this month? Did we break even?”
    Faith gave him a nod and a grin. “We did.”
    “Have you taken your wage out yet?”
    “Yes.”
    Good news. Finn knew for a fact that when times had been lean, Faith had often rolled her wage straight back into the business. “You ever think about trying to convince the old man to sell?”
    “It’d kill him,” she said, and maybe it would.
    “What are your thoughts on selling it?”
    “Why would we?” she countered defensively. “This is our home, Finn. The heart of this family is right here. Our memories are here.”
    “Do you really believe that?”
    “Mom’s here,” she countered stubbornly, and Finn was the first to look away.
    Kathleen Sullivan had run Sully’s alongside her husband. She’d lived for it, loved in it, raised a family within these walls. His mother’s decisions were stamped here – from the color of the barstools to the pictures on the walls. And Faith, more than any of them, kept the family legacy alive.
    But she did it at the cost of her own artistic dreams, and this itched at Finn. Made him feel guilty for not doing more.
    “Want us to start playing live music on Friday afternoons again?” That always pulled a crowd and made their father happy. “I’ll organize it with Ronan and Case.”
    “I’ve already asked. They start touring again next week. They don’t have time.”
    If he could make time, so could they. “I’ll use words they can understand.”
    Faith bit back a laugh. “Good luck with that. What words are you going to use on Dawn?”
    “Music. Food. Company.”
    “Not marriage, babies and eternal love?”
    “Not yet.”
    Got to save something for the finale.
    *
    Ten minutes later, from the privacy of the booth in the far corner of the pub, Finn dialed the number Faith had given him and set about reissuing an old, old invitation.
    He’d made a mess of it last time – or maybe the timing had simply been all wrong.
    The fallout from those stolen bottles of wine had been harsh and neither his sister nor her friends had been in any position to come and watch him play his first paying gig.
    Anyway.
    “There’s this jazz club off 8 th Avenue and West 51 st and I play there sometimes,” he began.
    “Finn?”
    Call it arrogance, but it had been a long time since he’d had to start with his name.
    “So, yeah. Let me do that again. Finbar Sullivan here. Wanting to speak with Dawn.”
    “Speaking,” she replied dryly. “Do you always call for a repeat when you don’t get something right the first time?”
    “Musician,” he countered. “You’re lucky I don’t want to hang up and start from the top.”
    Actually …
    He hung up.
    He called back.
    She got the first word in before he did. “Dawn Turner speaking.”
    “Hey, Dawn. Finn Sullivan here, Faith’s brother.”
    “How come you didn’t start with Finbar Sullivan here. Notoriously charming famous musician? ”
    “You’re messing with the plan. Don’t make me start again.” Because next time he might mention virginity.
    His. Hers.
    And the fact that they’d lost theirs together some ten years ago. “There’s this jazz club—
    “Is this the same jazz club from years ago?” Dawn asked.
    “You remember that invitation?”
    “I remember that we didn’t go.” There was something in her voice. Something wistful. “And that you went to Juilliard soon afterwards. Faith was so proud of you.”
    “Is that why you never answered any of my phone calls? Because of Juilliard?”
    “In some ways, yes. Immaturity and insecurity on my part didn’t help. Your priorities lay elsewhere – that was very clear. So did mine. I didn’t want to complicate our lives.”
    “Who’s to say it would have?”
    “It was for the best,” she offered quietly, and if this conversation were music it would be a lament. Notes filled with sorrow, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why.
    “A lot of years between