When he reached me, he slid one arm around my waist and pulled me into a deep kiss, our bodies connected. The crowd cheered, and some girls groaned their disappointment. I was used to it.
“Glad you’re here,” Nick said with a wink. “But I have to get back to work.” He planted a quick kiss on my cheek before turning to run off.
I smacked his ass as he hustled away, thanking every single star in the night sky that this guy was mine as Rachel walked in.
“Holy shit, this place is a madhouse!” she yelled before pulling me into a hug.
“Summer,” I answered with a shrug. The summer months were always the busiest time of year at the bar.
“I saw him kiss you.” Rachel shook her head. “I can’t believe he did that in front of everyone.”
I ran a finger across my bottom lip, still feeling his lips there, and smiled. “He does it all the time.”
Nick often advertised the fact that he wasn’t single, definitely wasn’t available, and he never pretended otherwise. Whenever I walked into the bar, he pointed me out to everyone, sometimes introduced me, but he always greeted me with a kiss.
I tried to explain to him one night that I knew how important the illusion of being available was to a lot of bartenders, especially when your clientele was mostly women. It made good business sense to want to keep the women happy, to keep them coming back for more. To do that, you sometimes flirted, acted single, or pretended that the women had a shot in hell in dating you someday.
But Nick didn’t want any part of that. “I won’t pretend to be something I’m not, Jess. And I absolutely refuse to let women think they have a chance with me. It’s not happening. If they want a Fisher brother, they can flirt with Ryan,” he’d argued one night, and I let it go because I loved his answer. Absolutely loved it.
“Where are we going to sit? Can we sit? Is there anywhere to sit?” Rachel shot rapid-fire questions my way, her head swiveling as she looked for seats.
“It will clear out soon. They have to close.”
“I need a drink,” she shouted to me over the noise.
As she spoke, Nick reappeared carrying two No Bad Days. He handed us each a drink, greeted Rachel, pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, and hurried back to the bar.
“What’s this?”
I smiled. “Just try it. You’ll love it. It’s my favorite drink here.”
“Really?” She took a sip and her face lit up. “Dear God, this is amazing.”
“Ryan’s a cocktail genius.”
“I love that man,” Rachel said with a sigh, and I narrowed my eyes.
“No, Rachel.” I felt like I was scolding a bad puppy.
“I know, I know.” She waved me off, but her eyes told me otherwise. She’d take a chance with Ryan in a heartbeat, and I knew it. But so would most women, so I couldn’t blame her for it.
“He’s just so delicious,” she said dreamily. “I mean, look at him.”
I turned my head, but my eyes sought out Nick instead of Ryan. He was the only Fisher brother I could see, the only one I wanted, the only one I needed. Nick’s eyes met mine, and he paused for a second before giving me a wink. My insides melted at the gesture. Everything he did went straight to the core of me.
Eventually, the bar cleared out, leaving Rachel and me alone with the guys as they cleaned up.
“I heard a rumor the other day,” Ryan said over the music that played in the background.
“What kind of rumor?” I asked.
He laughed. “That your best friend moved to London and was being wooed by a prince, or something to that effect.”
I turned to Rachel, wondering why she was sitting next to me if she was supposed to be in London.
“Not your real best friend.” Ryan gave Rachel a nod. “Carla.”
“Oh.” My eyes widened when everything clicked. “Shut up. A prince?”
“He’s not a real prince, but she’s playing like he is, posting all over social media with him.”
“As long as she’s over Nick, that’s really all I care about.” I practically groaned as I remembered the hell she’d put us through. Nick and I had come so far since then, our relationship so solid, so beautiful, so completely fulfilling.
“I hope he’s a prince who lives in some small-dick country, and she marries him and has to live there forever,” Rachel blurted.
When she downed the rest of her third cocktail, Frank doled out five shot glasses that were only partially filled.
“To small-dick countries and staying there forever.” He lifted his shot glass in the air, and we all repeated the toast before downing without question whatever he had poured.
“Speaking of other countries, Dad called today,” Nick said, drawing everyone’s attention. “He said he loves Italy and he’s never coming back.”
The brothers’ relationship with their father was better than ever. He’d apologized profusely, to me as well, seeming truly remorseful for his behavior. We had family dinners when we could get everyone in the same room, but more often than not, Mr. Fisher could be found sitting here at the bar, tossing one back with his sons. It warmed my heart to see that relationship mended.
“Hell, can you blame him?” Ryan said with a laugh. “Next time I go there, I might not come back either.”
Frank scowled at him. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I might, Frank. You never know,” Ryan said, trying to goad him.