As he worked, I tilted my head back, concentrating on the flavors that lingered. “Was that a hint of cinnamon I tasted?”
“Yeah.”
“That was brilliant. It only hit after,” I said with a smile. My brother was seriously a cocktail genius.
“Yeah, that’s the plan. I think I’ll use it as a garnish, maybe toss a cinnamon stick on top at the end.” He grinned as he measured and mixed ingredients, and my brain reeled as I tried to come up with a name for it.
Frank joined us, and automatically hand-washed and dried the glass that Ryan had just tossed into the sink before looking at me. “So, are you going to tell us what’s got you so wound up?”
I stared between my brothers, who were both giving me the side eye while I decided how much to admit to them. As if Ryan knew the only way to get me to open up was to ply me with alcohol, he set two shots of tequila in front of me, then one each in front of himself and Frank.
“Why do I get two?” I asked, already knowing damn well the answer to that question.
“Because you clearly need it,” Frank said, then tipped his in a toast to me before knocking it back.
“And we know how much you run your mouth after you’ve had some liquid courage, brother,” Ryan said with a laugh. “So drink up.” He nudged mine closer to me and waited for me to shoot them.
The first went down with a wince, burning my throat before coating my insides with warmth that made me feel like a rookie. I took a few steadying breaths before downing the second without another thought.
When I slammed the empty on the bar and announced, “I’m getting married,” they both started choking. Simultaneously, as if their lungs were connected.
“Married?” Frank asked, his voice shooting an octave higher.
“To who?” Ryan leaned forward, his brows pinched together.
“Carla.” God, her name was as bitter on my tongue as Ryan’s watermelon drink.
I stared past my brothers, fixing my gaze on the liquor bottles that lined the wall. I was afraid to see the level of disappointment in their eyes.
“Carla? The chick whose dad owns the TV stations?” Ryan said, putting it all together quicker than I’d expected. I’d only barely told them I was dating her.
“The one you started dating just to get Dad off your back?” Frank added.
I nodded, tapping the empty shot glass against the top of the bar. Ryan returned with the bottle and filled all three of our empty glasses.
“You can’t do this,” Frank said as he tipped back another shot.
“Yeah, this is crazy. Why the hell would you marry this girl?” Ryan frowned and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick out in every direction.
I downed another shot before reaching for the bottle and doling out the shots myself, filling them to the brim until some of the liquid spilled over.
“I don’t have a choice,” I confessed, realizing that I needed someone in my life to know the truth. The whole truth.
“What does that even mean?” Frank bit out. “How do you not have a choice?”
“I thought you loved Jess?” Ryan said.
I bristled. “I do love Jess.”
Ryan scowled at me. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
Agitated, I threw my hands out wide. “Why the fuck do I keep coming here when all you two do is give me shit instead of help me?”
Ryan laughed. He fucking laughed. “You come here because you know what you’re telling us is completely crazy, and we’re the only ones who will call you out on it.”
“I don’t need to be called out on it.”
“Then what do you need, brother, a swift kick in the ass? Because this is insane. It’s fucking nuts,” Frank practically growled. “Look, I saw you with Jess. I’d never seen you so happy or proud to be with a girl before.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’d never seen me with a girl, period.”
“True, but I’ve seen plenty of pictures. You didn’t look half as happy in any of those as you did the night you brought Jess in here. Plus, you don’t see your face when you talk about that girl.”
“This isn’t about my feelings for Jess, okay?”
“Then what the hell is it about?” Ryan asked.
Before I could answer, Frank quickly added, “Because things aren’t adding up.”
I gripped the edge of the bar, feeling the effects of the tequila swimming in my head. “He threatened her. He threatened Jess.”
Ryan and Frank both froze and exchanged a glance.
“Who threatened Jess?” Frank balled his hand into a fist that made the tattoos on his forearm dance.
“Carla’s father, Mr. Crawford. He threatened her future in the entertainment industry. Said he’d make sure she never got a job or worked anywhere in this town if I didn’t do what he wanted.” My shoulders unknotted a fraction, relaxing as I confessed this to my brothers.
Ryan gave me a confused look. “And what he wanted was for you to marry his daughter?”
“Yeah.”
I knew it didn’t make any sense, wasn’t at all logical. I had no idea how I’d gotten in the middle of it, but I’d panicked, straight up nearly lost my shit when Mr. Crawford not only said he knew about Jess, but then threatened her future. I would have agreed to almost anything he asked if it meant he wouldn’t hurt my girl.
“But why that? Why the hell would Mr. Crawford want you to marry his daughter that badly? What’s in it for him?”