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father move his mother into the rehabilitation center. “Ross. You did deposit last night’s money at the bank, right?”
    Ross screwed up his face in a pained expression. “Ah, crap, Niall. I forgot.”
    A hot ball formed in Niall’s belly. Training warred with breeding. He wanted to give his brother a proper dressing down, but he couldn’t do it in front of the staff. Instead, he counted to ten silently.
    â€œFine,” he said, hoping the venom didn’t leech into his voice. Two months. Ross had been in charge of the Boxing Cat for two months since their parents had decided to takean early retirement after Pop’s heart attack. Their retirement plans took a sharp turn two weeks ago when a drunken jet skier crashed into the kayak Niall’s mom had been paddling. Thank God, she hadn’t been killed. That could have given Pop a second heart attack.
    At this rate, Ross would give the man another one.
    Not if Niall could help it. He was here now. He’d handle things, starting with the bank deposit. Turning on his heel, Niall returned to the tomb of an office, beelining straight for the safe.
    In under a minute, he’d pulled out the bank deposit bag, relocked the safe, and walked back into the kitchen. Both chefs kept their eyes on their work and their mouths closed. Only Ross had the temerity to try to pick up their conversation.
    â€œSo we on for the club tonight, Bro?”
    The cooks hustled to their respective stoves, as if trying to blend in with the walls.
    Niall’s training gave way to his temper. He stepped closer to his brother and dropped his voice to a deadly whisper only Ross could hear.
    â€œI’d worry more about doing your job and less about partying unless you want to see the Boxing Cat go under. Now I’m taking the money to the bank, like
you
should have done last night. Then I am taking the hope chest over to Mom and Pop. Instead of partying tonight, why don’t you join us at the rehab center for dinner?”
    Ross scrunched his face like a child. “I hate it there. Why don’t we bring them over here?”
    Niall was pretty sure he was going to break a molar from grinding his teeth. Inhaling a breath for patience he said, “Mom broke her leg. In three places. Doctor says she cannot leave the building, let alone her floor for another six weeks. Whatever. Don’t join us. I suggest while I’m out today, you run this business the way I know Pop trained you and less like a spoiled frat boy. The toilet in the men’s room is leaking, the light bulbs are burned out in the pantry again, and the walls and floors behind the shelves need cleaning before we get another surprise inspection. Do it.”
    â€œWe’ve got staff for all that.”
    â€œWrong.” That single word had come out harsher and louder than he’d intended. Counting to ten again, Niall reminded himself that pummeling his brother into the cement floor would only drive their mother to tears. “The people who work for us are waitstaff and cooks. You don’t want people fixing the toilet, then handling food. This is why you and I are here. We do the maintenance, the hiring and the firing of staff, and the paperwork. The waitstaff handle the food. Period. Since I’m going to be out for the rest of the day, and there’s no one to hire or fire, that leaves you to clean.”
    Ross’s cell phone beeped. He grabbed it from the holster on his hip and checked the message. His face fell. He looked like the sad little boy he’d been the day Niall had told him he was leaving to join the Marines. “Uh, we might have a small problem.”
    A knot formed in Niall’s empty stomach. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThat was the client. The guest list just grew.” Ross inhaled a deep breath and said quickly, “She’s just added twenty more people to the dinner. We’re going to need to hire more servers to keep it