Ryan's Place by Sherryl Woods

end of the bar, where he slammed a few mugs around so hard, it was amazing that they didn’t shatter.
    Maggie sighed. “I’d better talk to him. I owe him an apology for pushing so hard.”
    “No, child,” Father Francis said at once. “He’s the one who needs to apologize. Give him a minute. He’ll come around on his own. He knows when he’s being unreasonable, and he’s generally honest enough to admit it.”
    Maggie sat back down, but the wait seemed interminable. Finally, though, Ryan approached the two of them with a look of remorse on his face. “Okay, I was out of line.” He frowned at the priest. “But you were deliberately pushing my buttons, and you know it.”
    “Do I now?” Father Francis said, his expression innocent.
    “Of course you do. You take great pleasure in it, which makes me wonder why I put up with you.” He turned to Maggie. “As for you, I truly am sorry. I know you were trying to be helpful. It’s just that I don’t need that kind of help. I’ve been running this place for a while now. I know how to do it. It might not be the most efficient operation, but it works for me.”
    “And there couldn’t possibly be a better way?” she challenged.
    He grinned. “There could be, but I’m satisfied with things as they are. When I’m not, I’ll let you know.”
    Maggie knew a brick wall when she slammed into one. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
    “When it comes to this particular topic, you could be in for a long wait,” he warned.
    “I have the time,” she told him.
    “And why is that? Shouldn’t you be starting that search for a new job?”
    “Not just yet. I’m taking the next few weeks to think things through and decide what I want to do. I have an MBA that’s going to waste.”
    He frowned. “Just so you don’t get it into your head that this is the place to put it to use,” he said. “You’re overqualified.”
    “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll back off,” she said, then murmured under her breath, “for now.”
    He scowled. “I heard that.”
    Maggie beamed at him. “Just a fair warning,” she said cheerfully as she slid off her bar stool.
    “You leaving?” he asked.
    She grinned at the faint disappointment in his tone. “Youshould be so lucky. Actually, I’m getting an apron. In case you haven’t noticed, the place is packed, and Maureen and Juan have their hands full again.”
    Ryan shook his head. “A lot of people think a vacation is best spent on a beach in the Caribbean this time of year, not waiting tables in a pub.”
    “I’m not one of them,” she said, grabbing an order pad and heading for a table of couples across the room.
    “Bless you,” Maureen said as she passed Maggie. “I don’t know where everyone came from tonight, but they’re all tired and cranky and starving.”
    “More holiday shopping,” Maggie suggested. “And it’s only going to get worse when desperation sets in.”
    “Now there’s a cheerful prospect,” Maureen said, lifting her gaze heavenward. “Saints protect us from the truly desperate.”
    Maggie took orders from the three couples, along with a request for the band that was just setting up. She left that and a tip with the lead guitarist, then took the dinner order in to Rory.
    The cook beamed when he saw her. “You’re still in one piece, I see. Tell me, did you win Ryan over to your way of thinking?”
    “Hardly. The man’s head is like a rock.”
    “Aye, that it is. I’ve been wanting to experiment a bit with the menu, but all of my pleas have fallen on deaf ears,” he said, sounding resigned.
    “Speaking of changes to the menu, where’s Rosita and her recipe for enchiladas?” Maggie asked.
    “I sent her home,” Rory said.
    Maggie regarded him indignantly. “Just like that? She needs the job.”
    He frowned at her. “Did I say anything about firing her? Her ankles were swelling. And don’t you be telling Ryan, either. There’s no need for him to dock her pay. As you said