Adios Pantalones (The Fisher Brothers Book 3) Page 5

  “I think so. She looks early twenties, I guess,” I said with a shrug.

  “Okay, so pretend you’re a woman in your twenties and you’re actually not looking for a one-night stand—” She stopped as my brothers both faked gasps. “It’s been known to happen. We’re not all looking to hook up and break up in the same night. Some of us want to find good guys.”

  “I am a good guy,” I mumbled under my breath before she waved at me to be quiet.

  “So you’re in this bar and you see this guy,” she said, “you know, you. You’re the guy she’s seeing, Ryan.”

  “Right, ’cause I’m the girl in this scenario,” I said, following along.

  “Sounds about right,” Frank added, and I took a step toward him to punch his chest, but he jumped back out of reach.

  “Anyway,” she drawled out, glaring at Frank. “You see this guy and you think he’s cute and he’s flirting with you, making you feel special, and you think that maybe there might be something more there. But then you hear him talk to all the women in the bar that way. And you hear what all the women in the bar are saying about him.”

  Jess held up a hand. “Yeah. You hear them talk about sex, and whether it’s true or not, you just assume that it is, because why else would so many women be saying the same things if they weren’t? And then you realize he’s just like every other guy in LA, so you feel dejected and disappointed. And no matter what he does from that point forward, there’s no un-hearing all the things you’ve heard.”

  “Yeah. He’s kind of ruined to a girl who’s looking for something serious,” Claudia said, wrapping up her theory. “I mean, if that’s what she’s looking for. Or if that’s the kind of person she is. I’m only guessing here and projecting how I would feel if it were me.”

  I bristled, rising to my own defense. “But what if the things they’re saying aren’t true? How is that fair to me?”

  Nick gave me a knowing look. “You take your shirt off every night. Not the best defense there, brother.”

  I scowled, still thinking about what Claudia and Jess said, torn between being pissed off and feeling a little sorry for myself.

  “So, how do I change her mind?” I asked, and smiles crept across both the girls’ faces.

  • • •

  “You brought me flowers? You shouldn’t have,” Grant said when I walked into his room carrying an armful of colorful tulips. It looked like a box of crayons had exploded in my fist.

  “These aren’t for you.” I narrowed my eyes and gave him a fake dirty look before tossing him the items he’d requested from his house.

  “Then why’d you bring them into my room? Just to tease me?” He reached for the pants and the hat before smiling. “You’re just a regular heartbreaker, aren’t you, boy? Showing up here with flowers that aren’t even for me.”

  I shook my head. “Has she been here already?”

  “Has who been here?”

  Grant knew exactly who I was referring to, but he refused to give me a straight answer as a sly smile spread across his lips. If he wanted to play games with me, then I’d play.

  “You know who.”

  “Oh, you mean my angel?”

  Not this again. “No, I meant my angel. Has she been here today?”

  He laughed, knowing how much this conversation was riling me up. “She’s my angel, my fiancée, and my future wife.”

  As he continued to torment me, my body filled with jealous heat. Hearing those words, no matter how untrue they were, still caused a physical reaction inside me that I couldn’t control. The old man was claiming her, and I was about to explode into a thousand shards of glass. I didn’t understand it, any of it, but I didn’t question it either. Whatever it was that I was feeling, whatever insane and irrational thoughts and feelings filtered through my mind and body, I allowed.

  I glared at Grant, whose sly smile had now turned into a full shit-eating grin. “Just tell me if she’s been here or not, old man. Spit it out, already.” I held my breath for only a second. “Or maybe you don’t remember. Is that it? Your mind fading already?”

  I must have pushed him a smidge too far, because he looked around for something to throw at my head. Again. Between him and Frank, I was always ducking the crap being tossed at me. Maybe I was the problem? Nah, that couldn’t be right. It was their tempers and short fuses that made them want to pummel me with things every chance they got.

  “She hasn’t been here yet today, asshole. But I’ll tell you this, she doesn’t like you much.”

  I relaxed a little at his admission and the fact that there wasn’t anything within his reach to throw at me. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “She likes me a lot. A hell of a lot more than she likes you.” He let out a gruff laugh, enjoying bringing me pain. “You think you can steal my angel from me with a few flowers? You’ve got a lot to learn, boy.”

  Glancing down at the flowers that I held on to like a lifeline, I shook my head, unwilling to let Grant deter me. He was only teasing me, but every word was like a razor blade slicing through my flesh. Little nicks here and there, and before you knew it, I’d be bleeding out all over the stark white floor.

  “What do you suggest then?”

  He cleared his throat and faked a cough like he hadn’t heard me right. “Did you, dyin’ for Ryan, just ask for my advice?”

  Now it was my turn to choke out a cough. #DyinForRyan was one of the hashtags women posted when they talked about the bar. “How do you know about that?”

  “I don’t live in a cave. I’ve seen them all. #DyinForRyan. #FishWish, whatever the hell that means. #SpankMeFrank. #LickedByNick. I can’t believe the gumption of the women these days.” He sounded part disgusted and part impressed.

  “Do you have a Twitter account?” I shook my head, unable to picture it.

  “Instagram.”

  Grant’s response was so deadpan, I had no idea if he was serious or not. I cocked my head, raising one eyebrow, letting him know so before he laughed.

  “I don’t really know how to use it,” he admitted, “but I downloaded it after being in your bar. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Turns out I wasn’t missing much.”

  “I’ll make sure to pass that along to Nick.”

  “I’ll tell him you were lying,” he shot back.

  “You gonna stop fighting with me over every single thing?”

  “Probably not.” He faked a yawn, pretending like my company bored him. “You ever going to put those flowers down?”

  “Probably not.”

  “She won’t want your damn flowers, you know.”

  “She might not think she wants them, but she does.”

  Glaring at me, he said, “She’d want them if they were from me.”

  Grant started to cough, slapping at his chest to get it to stop. I wasn’t sure that sort of thing was even effective, yet we all did it.

  “Then you should have gotten off your ass and bought her some,” I told him.

  This time he did find something to throw at me. A Sharpie flew through the air and hit me in the stomach before bouncing off and pinging to the floor. I didn’t even attempt to grab it, even though I could have easily caught it with one hand.

  I let Grant have his moment of satisfaction, striking me with flying objects, before I bent down to pick it up.

  Where the hell did he get a Sharpie from, anyway?

  Say Yes

  Sofia

  I stood outside the doorway for a minute longer, wondering what else Ryan and Grant would say before I made my entrance.

  Ryan had flowers for me—I gathered that much from what I’d accidentally overheard. It hadn’t been my intention to eavesdrop, but when I arrived at Grant’s door, I couldn’t help but hear their banter. Neither had said my name, but my gut told me the she they kept referring to was me.

  Part of me wanted to turn around and bolt until the coast was clear, meaning until Ryan was long gone, but my mom could only watch Matson for so long.
She had a meeting tonight she couldn’t get out of, so my time to visit Grant was limited.

  I sucked in a breath and reminded myself that I wasn’t there for Ryan Manwhore Fisher. Grant was the reason for my visit, and I wanted to make sure he was okay. Ryan being here was an unfortunate side effect that I had no control over.

  As much as I wanted to pretend that I hated Ryan for being here now, all my girlie parts screamed the opposite. They definitely liked that he was here. I’d denied myself male attention for so long that I’d almost forgotten what it was like. Ryan made it hard to keep my resolve. But in those moments of weakness, my son’s face flashed in my mind and I steeled myself, instantly remembering that my life wasn’t just about me anymore.

  Matson was the reason for my standoffish behavior. I had to not only protect my heart, but my innocent son’s as well. Ryan wasn’t good for either for us, no matter how hard he tried to convince me otherwise. Agreeing to date him would be like begging for my heart to be shattered. I might be a strong woman, but even I could only take so much.

  Drawing in a calming breath, I took a step into the room before I could talk myself out of it. The conversation stopped midsentence as both men turned their attention to me. Grant propped himself up higher in the bed, finger-combing his hair, while Ryan moved toward me like a wild animal stalking his prey.

  I was definitely that prey.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, his blue eyes raking my body from head to toe.

  An unwanted shiver raced down my spine, and I fought off the goose bumps that wanted to pepper my arms.

  “These are for you.” He held out the most colorful bouquet of fresh flowers I’d ever seen in my life. They were stunning in their simplicity, tied together with a piece of twine.

  I snapped my jaw shut as I took them from his hands, the weight of them catching me by surprise. “Thank you,” I said slowly, more than a little confused. Why would he bring me flowers, anyway?

  “I’m not sure why he didn’t bring me flowers,” Grant muttered, and I directed my focus to him, putting some space between Ryan and me.

  “I’m not sure either. Ryan, care to answer that?” I asked.

  It was adorable the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other when I put him on the spot, clearly a little uncomfortable before he fought back with a dimpled smile.

  “What the hell would he do with flowers?” He jerked his thumb toward Grant. “He’d probably throw them in the trash the second I walked out. Or give them to some nurse and pretend he bought them for her. I knew you’d at least appreciate them,” he said with a wink.

  A wink? Ryan probably meant it to be charming, but all it did was send me crash-landing back to reality where he was a womanizer, and I was, for whatever reason, his latest conquest attempt.

  “They’re very pretty,” I said halfheartedly.

  His shoulders slumped with his exhale. “Pretty enough that you’ll consider going out with me?”

  As I tried to form an answer, I moved to the side of the bed, placing the flowers on the nightstand to give myself a moment to think.

  Grant burst out laughing. “You don’t even have to answer, angel. Your face says it all. This is too good.”

  “But I want an answer,” Ryan said over Grant’s chortling, taking a step closer to me.

  I turned to face him, almost forgetting that anyone else was in the room. “I can’t go out with you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Ryan pinned me with his intense gaze as he took another step closer.

  My breath caught, and I stumbled over my response. “Does it matter?”

  One more step. “It does to me. Can’t or won’t?”

  Ryan was close now, so close I caught his scent with every breath.

  His head cocked to the side, his eyes never leaving mine. “Can’t or won’t, angel?” he whispered.

  How the heck was I supposed to answer that? I couldn’t go out with Ryan because there was no point. He wasn’t a good role model for Matson, and the bar life wasn’t something I was interested in being a part of.

  Ryan and his brothers had been on reality TV shows more than once, and were regularly featured in online and local magazines. He wasn’t a celebrity, per se, but he was treated like one. That wasn’t the type of atmosphere I wanted to raise my son in.

  So no, I couldn’t go out with Ryan. And I wouldn’t for the same reasons.

  “If you’re done harassing my girlfriend here, don’t you have a bar to run?” Grant said gruffly, and I could have kissed him, so grateful for the interruption.

  Ryan’s gorgeous blue eyes narrowed at Grant but softened when he looked back at me. Thank God he stepped away, because now I felt like I could breathe again.

  “I do have to get back to work. Promise me you’ll at least think about giving me a chance, angel. Just one chance. It’s all I’ll need.”

  Offering him a tight-lipped smile, I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.” It was a lie, and Ryan knew it.

  He headed toward the door but stopped and turned to look right through me. “Here’s the thing. You think you know me, but you don’t. I know what the women at my bar say about me, but that doesn’t make it true. I’d like to take you out and see if there’s something more here than just what I feel every time I see you. I know you feel it too, but for some reason, you’re pretending you don’t.”

  An uncomfortable laugh bubbled up from his throat.

  “Hell, maybe you really do hate me? But I’m betting that’s not true either. Maybe you’re scared of what this could be? I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this. I’m not giving up. One chance. One date. That’s all I’m asking.”

  And with that, he walked out, taking all the air in the room with him.

  Ryan was as infuriating as he was sexy, refusing to listen or take no for an answer. I was torn between wanting to be annoyed with him and wanting to jump his bones. Why was that alpha-male behavior so damn sexy? Or maybe it was only sexy because it was coming from him? I had no idea, but Grant clearing his throat reminded me that I wasn’t alone.

  “That was . . . interesting.”

  “That was something, all right.” I struggled to catch the breath Ryan had stolen with his speech.

  Grant studied me, searching my eyes for answers. When he found none, he pursed his lips. “I’m going to get serious with you for a moment.”

  Curious, I pulled up the lone chair in the room and sat down. “Okay.”

  “It’s obvious that boy likes you. I can see it in his eyes, and it’s more than just seeing you for how pretty you are. He’s genuinely interested, and he’s right . . . you keep pretending like you’re not. Why is that?”

  Did I want to confess all my insecurities and fears to this man I barely knew? Someone who would probably repeat everything I told him to the one person I was trying to keep all of this from?

  “I can’t tell you. You’re on his side.”

  Grant let out a hearty laugh. “His side? Hell, I’m on my side. I want you all to myself, but that knucklehead is stubborn. He won’t quit. So, tell me why you dislike him so much.”

  I sucked in a breath, wondering how much I was comfortable sharing. As a young single mom, I learned early on to keep the fact that I had a child to myself. The silent judgment that came after that confession was something that chipped away at me a little more each time it happened.

  Guys didn’t want to date girls like me; they wanted to party and be obligation-free. Dating someone with a kid was the exact opposite of that. The second most men found out that I had a son, they usually bolted, or made up some lame excuse to stop talking to me as quickly as they had started. It was almost as if I’d grown two heads the moment they learned the truth.

  The worst part was that I’d started to believe there was something wrong with me . . . that my having a kid was a bad thing.

  So I’d stopped telling people I had one.

  I convinced myself that it was to keep my private life private, but the truth was tha
t it was to keep me from feeling small and insignificant. It shouldn’t have bothered me what people thought about me, but it did. All the glances at my left ring finger, which was clearly ringless, weighed on me. The wary look in people’s eyes when they learned I was a single mom. There was never a positive response from anyone. No, they were always feeling sorry for me, judging me, or wanting to commiserate in some way.

  So I kept my guard up.

  The truth was that my son made me a better person. Matson was the best damn thing to ever happen in my life, and any guy who couldn’t see that didn’t deserve to be in it.

  And this was exactly why I hesitated to tell Grant. He’d tell Ryan, and there was no way that Ryan would want to be a part of my life when he learned about Matson. I couldn’t imagine him thinking that my son was anything other than a hindrance, and I refused to put myself in that situation again, no matter how charming the guy was. I’d rather be alone forever than with someone who couldn’t see our worth.

  “Was my question that difficult?” Grant said, breaking through my self-imposed trance.

  “No,” I said with a smile. “It’s not that I dislike him, necessarily . . . I don’t even know him, but I’ve heard things. I’ve seen things. Ryan’s just not my type.”

  “I thought Ryan was everyone’s type.”

  “He thinks so too.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Did something happen between you two before? Was he rude to you? Do you want me to fight for your honor?”

  Giggling at the mental image of Ryan and Grant going at it, I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “He wasn’t rude to me. But if you want to fight him just for fun, I’m not sure I’d stop you.”

  “Would you cheer me on?”

  “Hell yes, I would,” I said far too enthusiastically.

  He gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I know you’re keeping things to yourself, Sofia, and that’s okay. You don’t owe me anything. And I’ll deny saying this if you ever repeat it, but you might be wrong about that boy.”

  Swallowing nothing but the air that seemed to thicken around us, I nodded, refusing to believe that could possibly be true. I supposed I could be wrong about Ryan, but I’d bet money that I was right about him not wanting to date a single mom.