Adios Pantalones (The Fisher Brothers Book 3) Read online

  I sucked in a long breath, wondering if I should tell him or not. I figured I had nothing to lose except my pride, and that was a lost cause when it came to my older brother. If there was an opportunity to tease me, he took it.

  “It’s a girl.” I shrugged, not knowing exactly what to say.

  I braced for the insult I suspected was coming, but never did. Dating Claudia had changed Frank, softened him, which made my life a lot easier.

  Instead of giving me shit, he just asked, “What girl?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. She was the one who found Grant, but she was ice-cold toward me and it’s driving me crazy.”

  Frank’s usually serious face broke into a grin. “I would have paid money to see that.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the thought. “Did you know her?”

  “She didn’t look familiar, but she said she’d only been here one time.”

  “Only once?” Frank’s tone was incredulous, and he wasn’t off base for feeling that way. People usually didn’t come into Sam’s one time and then never again, not unless they were tourists.

  “Maybe you flirted with her and then ditched her for someone else,” he suggested, all serious again. “Or maybe she’s one of the women who thought you really liked her when you were just being you.”

  Frank knew how often the latter part of his statement happened. After closing one night, he told me that women thought I was really into them and took my flirtatious nature to heart. He said that when they flirted back, they meant it, and maybe I should try to be a little less friendly.

  I actually tried to take his advice for one night, but that lasted for all of about an hour. When I tried to tone things down, I hated how unnatural and uncomfortable I felt in my own skin. I was a nonsmiling, unfriendly version of myself in some stupid attempt to make sure our customers didn’t think I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them. It was ridiculous, and I refused to be someone I wasn’t.

  The truth was that I wasn’t even flirting, to be honest. I was simply being friendly. They were two different things, and it wasn’t my fault if everyone took my friendliness the wrong way. Or hell, maybe it was my fault. Regardless, I refused to change my behavior, and I suffered the consequences for it. Nightly.

  I glanced at the time and realized our youngest brother wasn’t here yet. “Where’s Nick?”

  Frank shrugged. “He had a meeting with one of the social-media companies.”

  “Do you know which one?”

  I asked with a grin because I knew that he had absolutely no idea. Frank didn’t understand half the shit that most people used their phones for these days. He trusted Nick to make the marketing decisions for the bar, considering he was closest in age to the majority of our patrons and had his finger on the pulse of all things up and coming.

  Frank grimaced. “Snap something. Snip something? I don’t fucking know.” He groaned out his frustration like a bitter old man, and I laughed.

  “Why don’t you go back in your cave and play with numbers,” I teased, and he flipped me off. Frank handled all the finances for the bar, and he used to sit in the office and work all the time. But that was before Claudia came into the picture.

  “But I like hanging out here with you. It’s much more fun.”

  “Then be useful.” I pointed at the almost-empty bottles of liquor lining the shelf.

  He scowled, not wanting to take inventory since it was my job, and muttered something about our vendors before he disappeared behind the office door. I laughed and went to work restocking before the bar filled with customers.

  When Nick eventually showed up, I inhaled a quick breath, grateful that my brothers and best friends were all together in one place. It hadn’t been so long ago when Nick worked for our father and not here at the bar with Frank and me. All that changed one day, and it was the best thing to happen to us. And the bar.

  “Ryan,” Nick called out with a smile.

  “Where’ve you been?” I scowled at him, pretending to be mad, but couldn’t even fake it.

  “Had a meeting with the VP of development,” he said, then filled me in on all the potential plans they discussed.

  There were special filters, collaborations, parties, and nationwide exposure ideas that included featured spots on the front page of the app. They’d even talked about global exposure, although I wasn’t sure that realistically suited our needs. But I never ruled anything out, and I trusted Nick implicitly.

  “That sounds amazing. Seriously.” I nodded in appreciation. Nick was a fucking genius when it came to online marketing, and we all knew it.

  “I’m excited about it.” He was enthusiastic and fired up, and I loved when he was that way.

  It was incredible to see someone in their element, the way their eyes lit up with passion as the wheels turned in their head. My brothers both said I got that way whenever I was crafting a new cocktail. But to me, it was about combining unexpected ingredients to create something magical. I loved making drinks, loved seeing people’s reactions to tasting something that I designed. That first sip when they weren’t quite sure what would be hitting their tongue, and then the look on their face when they realized just how damn good it was.

  I was good at creating new drinks. And I knew it.

  “I’m excited too, little brother.” I smiled because his attitude was infectious.

  “You okay? You seem distracted.”

  Apparently, I wasn’t so great at hiding my emotions. I filled him in on what had happened earlier with Grant, and Nick squeezed my shoulder in sympathy, saying almost the exact same thing as Frank had.

  Even with their reassurance that Grant was a stubborn fighter, I still worried. And the damn hospital hadn’t called yet. How long did it take a grumpy old man to wake up?

  Finally, a little after five, I got the call I’d been waiting for. Grant was not only awake but was asking for me.

  “You okay if I head to the hospital?” I asked Nick as he drew beer for a couple of our regulars.

  He waved me off. “Of course. Just tell the old man to get out here before you go.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the office, referring to Frank.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Take your time, and give him our best.”

  • • •

  Winding my way through the hospital corridors, I slowed as I approached Grant’s room. I peeked through the doorway, wanting to be sure he was alone and not surrounded by hospital staff monitoring his every move. I laughed at the thought, knowing how annoyed he would be at being poked and prodded.

  “Get in here, asshole,” his gruff voice called out, and I smirked as I sauntered in. Everything in his room was white and cold, except for the colorful plate of hospital food sitting on the tray in front of him. “Why were you hiding outside like some sissy girl?”

  “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything. Excuse me for having manners,” I fired back as I pulled the single chair in the room next to his side. He still looked pale, but at least he was breathing.

  “Manners, my ass,” he muttered, and I bristled.

  “Hey, I have manners.” When he waved me off with an annoyed expression, I changed the subject. “Scared the hell out of me this morning.”

  He took in a deep breath, his tired gaze on the doorway before finally meeting mine. “I can’t even remember what happened.” When I started to speak, to fill him in on everything I knew, he interrupted. “But I will tell you this. I think I saw an angel this morning, kid.”

  Grant tried to smile but the move was strained. Even still, I knew exactly who he was referring to.

  “That you did.” I grinned as her face flashed in my mind.

  “She was real?” he asked, awkwardly spooning some green Jell-O into his mouth.

  “Oh, she’s real, all right.”

  Her image filled my thoughts, making me feel fifteen again, my body full of raging hormones I couldn’t control.

  “I have an angel.” Grant sighed, a dreamy expr
ession on his face, and I shifted in my seat.

  Feeling ridiculously jealous for no good reason, I said, “She’s my angel.” I sat up straighter, puffing my chest out as I claimed her, making sure the old man knew she belonged to me, details be damned.

  His eyes narrowed, and he dropped the spoon. “Pretty sure she’s my angel,” he snapped back.

  I was going to have to fight him, this sick man old enough to be my grandpa. And I wasn’t above it.

  “Pretty sure she’s too young for you, old man.”

  “Pretty sure she came to my rescue,” he countered.

  At that, I glared at him. “Pretty sure she didn’t have a choice.”

  “We all have choices, and she chose me. Find your own angel, asshole.”

  At his last retort, I fought off a laugh. We were two grown men fighting over a woman that neither of us even knew. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

  “I was until you showed up and pissed me off,” he said between coughs. “Trying to steal my damn angel like you can’t get one of your own. I’ve seen you at that bar.”

  I decided to let the comment go. For now. “How long do you have to stay in here?”

  “Who knows? They said they need to monitor my heart and make sure I don’t have any more episodes. Whatever the hell that means.”

  “It means they don’t want you to die,” I teased.

  He snarled at me, threatening to throw to his little plastic spoon, holding it in striking position as if the damn thing would even hurt me.

  “Do you need me to bring you anything?” I knew he’d grumble about it, but I’d do it anyway. “I can pick up whatever you need from your place, and stop by every day until they release you.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” he mumbled under his breath. He was such a pain in the ass.

  “Good. Because I don’t know how to babysit.”

  He pursed his lips, seeming to consider. “I could use a pair of pants and my fishing hat.”

  I suppressed a grin. “Pair of pants and your fishing hat. On it.”

  Grant snorted. “How can you be on it if you don’t have a key? It’s not like my door’s magic and just gonna open on its own because you show it your pretty mug.”

  Frowning, he reached toward the bedside table and pulled open the drawer. For a moment, he fumbled, then fished out a set of keys and tossed them at me without warning. It was a good thing I’d kept my eye on him; the damn things nearly smacked me in the face.

  After giving me his address, he frowned. “Aren’t you going to write it down?”

  “I don’t need to write it down. Got it right here.” I tapped my head.

  Grant didn’t know that I could remember things like that without trying. It’s how I kept all the drink orders straight at the bar without a notepad. I just . . . remembered certain things.

  Apparently, not all things. If I did, I would have remembered the angel’s name, and meeting her.

  Grant flicked a finger at me. “Write it down anyway. Put it in that stupid phone or something. Don’t need you trying to walk into the wrong house and riling up my neighbors.”

  Rolling my eyes, I gave in and pulled out my phone, tapping in his address to make him happy. “I’ll bring them to you first thing tomorrow morning, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  As I tucked my phone back in my pocket, I said, “Wouldn’t hurt you to be nice to me.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt you to be nice to me,” he repeated in a falsetto, mocking me, and I suddenly felt like I was back at the bar, listening to Frank give me shit.

  “All right, old man, I’m leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Stay away from my angel,” he said the moment I got up and headed for the door.

  Turning around to face him, I said, “You mean, my angel?”

  I stepped into the hallway before he could say anything else. As I left, I thought I heard the sound of something hitting the door frame, and when I glanced back, a single plastic spoon lay on the floor.

  Grumpy ass.

  Guys like Ryan

  Sofia

  Nervous energy ran through me as I waited for the world’s slowest elevator to arrive on the proper floor. Surrounded by a handful of solemn strangers, I had no idea why I was so anxious, my stomach knotting tighter with each breath I inhaled. The doors finally opened and I moved to step out, my gaze on the floor as I watched my step.

  “Hey.”

  A voice grabbed my attention just as a hand wrapped firmly around my arm, bringing me to a halt.

  When I looked up into Ryan’s panty-melting blue eyes, my stomach knotted even tighter. He was the reason for all that nervous, pent-up energy. Something inside me must have known that he would be here. I must have sensed his presence, regardless of how crazy that seemed.

  “Oh, hey.” I took a step back, pulling my arm from his grasp, but the spot where he’d touched me still tingled.

  “You coming to see Grant?” he asked, blocking the elevator door, and I moved a few steps to the side to give the people exiting it more room.

  Pretending not to be unnerved by Ryan’s presence, I said, “Yeah, I just came to check on him. Have you seen him?”

  Ryan’s mouth twisted into a grin. “Oh yeah. He’s a pistol, but he’ll be happy to see you.”

  “He will?” How could an unconscious man I’d never met before this morning possibly be happy to see me?

  “He will. I’m about to head back to the bar, unless you wanted to grab a coffee or dinner or something? I could wait until you’re done visiting him first.” Ryan frowned, seeming unsure of himself. “If you wanted, I mean.”

  I shifted my weight, unsure of how to answer. “That’s probably not a good idea,” I said, trying to convince him of what I’d already convinced myself.

  A flirtatious gleam came to his eyes. “How could going out with me be anything but a good idea?”

  The man was trying to bait me and I knew it, but I didn’t have time for games. Looking into his beautiful eyes, I kept my gaze steady. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

  “And what impression would that be, exactly?”

  “That I’m interested in you.”

  I used my most convincing voice so Ryan would understand, but he didn’t waver. No, his grin only widened and his gaze intensified. It didn’t matter what I said . . . he obviously didn’t believe me.

  “So we’ll get coffee as friends.” He shrugged as if this was totally normal, the two of us being friends. “Friends get coffee.”

  “Friends?” A small laugh escaped me.

  “Yep. How else will I get to know your name?”

  I laughed again, annoyed at myself for giving in, even the slightest bit. “I forgot about that.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve given you a nickname until you tell me.” He folded his arms across his chest as if he was the cleverest man on the planet.

  “You’ve given me a nickname?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it. Some guys were immature and crude, so the last thing I needed was to hear Ryan call me something degrading or idiotic.

  “Yeah. I had to call you something,” he said, his tone still flirty.

  “Let me guess.” I paused before looking around at the hospital walls. “Peaches?”

  He bent over, laughing. “Peaches? No. But I love it. Please tell me I can call you that.”

  “Not if you expect to live,” I all but growled.

  Ryan stood back up, his tall frame towering over mine as his expression turned serious. “Angel. I call you my angel.”

  My jaw dropped before I sucked in a shaky breath, pissed that his nickname for me had drawn out such a noticeable reaction. I knew I wasn’t hiding it well. Hell, I couldn’t hide it at all.

  Angel? And not only angel, but his angel. No wonder half the bar patrons were in love with this man.

  “I should probably hurry. You know, before visiting hours are over.” I focused on the stark white hallway and the black room numbers on the wall.
Anything to avoid those eyes.

  “I thought we were getting coffee?” Ryan sounded almost pleading now, no longer the confident man from a moment ago.

  “I never said that.”

  “Please?”

  Stop begging me, Ryan, because I’m about two seconds from giving in. “I don’t think so.”

  He swallowed hard, his throat moving as his jaw clenched. “Give me one reason why you won’t.”

  A multitude of valid reasons flashed through my mind.

  Because I’m a single mom.

  Because you work at a bar.

  Because you’ve dated half the women in town.

  Because you probably drink more than most people.

  Because your livelihood is based around alcohol, late nights, and loose women.

  There were a million reasons, and those were just a few.

  “You’re just not the kind of guy I’m looking for, Ryan.”

  When the words left my mouth, his entire body tensed as though I’d just punched him in the gut.

  “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, you’re just not my type.” I added the last part to lessen the blow, but it only seemed to make things worse.

  His eyes narrowed. “How would you even know that?”

  Unable to look at him, I dropped my gaze, and couldn’t help but notice how his hands clenched by his sides. Apparently, I’d struck a nerve.

  “Trust me, your reputation precedes you.”

  It was a bit of a low blow, but it was all I had to really drive the point home. If Ryan wouldn’t take my word, then I had to use his own against him.

  “What if my reputation is all off base?” He spat out the word reputation like it tasted bitter on his tongue.

  I paused for a moment, pondering his question. Could his reputation be wrong, based on exaggerations and falsehoods, wishful fantasies, or maybe outright lies? I knew better than most people how the truth could be twisted and exaggerated, turned into a story that no longer resembled anything close to reality.

  Was that the case here?

  No, I’d seen Ryan in action. I’d watched the way he treated women, the way he flirted, and I’d heard what women said about his performance in the bedroom. Those things meant Ryan wasn’t selective when it came to sex and having it. I needed a man who could keep it in his pants, who wanted to only be with me and would be satisfied with that.