Not that Eric didn’t appreciate Tiffany getting him out of working all day on Tuesday, but once she started to stress about her paper, he’d sent her home. And since he didn’t have any other plans, he headed into the bar.

Cam, who was usually off on Tuesdays, was more than happy to cut out and surprise Mina, so Eric slid seamlessly back into his regular routine. Griffin was there, although he’d long ago abandoned his usual place at the bar. Now he was tucked in a corner with Beverly, and Eric had to admit they made a damn cute couple.

Jenna and Reece both used to be regulars at night, but with a two-month-old, Jenna was still officially on leave—though she was working from home—and Reece worked the day shift as much as possible.

Shelby and Nolan sat in a back booth with Amanda and Derek, and they were probably the most boisterous table. Most likely laughing at one of Nolan’s off- color joke.

Brent wasn’t around, and Eric assumed he was at home with Elena and their daughter, Faith.

And Eric knew that Tyree was in the back with Eva, and would come out periodically to mingle with the regulars and newcomers, just the way a good bar owner should. Tyree, frankly, was Eric’s role model, and Eric couldn’t have felt prouder that Tyree had offered him the South Congress job if he tried.

All in all, the bar was in fine form tonight. And God knew the customers were keeping Eric on his toes because everyone wanted one of The Fix’s specialty drinks. He wasn’t the only bartender on duty, but he was the most experienced, and he was doing his best to not only make the drinks quickly, but also put on a bit of a show in the process.

He was popping a lime in a Loaded Corona when the door opened. There was a bell that hung over the door just for show—Faith had bought it at a garage sale for her Uncle Tyree, and he’d immediately hung it over the door—but unless the place was empty, Eric never heard it.

At the moment, though, he was facing that direction and he saw the man walk in. Dark hair. A wrestler’s build. And a smile that could cheer up the dourest of rooms.

Ben.

“Eric!” His brother waved to him from the doorway, then hurried over looking like a kid on Christmas morning. “Damn, man, I want to give you a hug but there’s two feet of bar between us. Oh well, Mom’ll just make us do it later.”

“What are you doing here?” Unlike some brothers, Eric and Ben had never had a rough patch. Maybe it was because of the six-year age difference, but they’d always been tight. Which was why it was so damn hard to see him now, with both a bar and a secret between them.

Still, it was also one hell of a nice surprise. “What are you doing in town? I thought you were off being a Yankee.”

“Funny man. No, I actually have a job interview at the University.”

“I thought you loved your job.”

Ben nodded. “I do, but they reached out to me. And can’t hurt to talk. And there are lots of good reasons to come back to Austin.”

“Like your little brother,” Eric said, and Ben smiled.

“Nah. That twerp. I ran as fast as I could.”

“Asshole.”

“Prick.”

“God, I missed you,” Eric said. “Want a drink?”

“Can’t. I’m not staying. I’m just meeting a date here, then we’re heading out.”

“Yeah? Who are you meeting?”

But that was a question Eric didn’t have to ask. Because she was walking through the door, a smile of greeting on her face and her eyes on Ben. “Ben!” Tiffany said. And then, a split second later, her face went blank. “Eric?”

“Tiffany.”

“Hey,” Ben said. “I forgot you two work at the same place. Two of my favorite people at the same bar. How sweet is that?”

He slipped his hand around Tiffany’s waist, and, Eric noticed, she didn’t try to shake it off. Just stood there looking confused.

“I didn’t think you were here,” she said.

“You two better get going,” Eric said. He tossed down a bar rag. “I need to go get some pineapples from the back.”

And then he turned and walked away, seething that his brother had returned to take back what was his in the first place, and that Tiffany had intentionally avoided talking about Ben because—as was pretty damn clear now—Eric was just a warm-up for the main act.

 

* * * *

 

Eric slipped away so quickly that Tiffany didn’t have time to ask him why he hadn’t warned her that Ben was in town. More important, she had no idea if Eric had told his brother that she and Eric were a couple now. She assumed he had— why wouldn’t he?—but since she wasn’t sure one way or another, she supposed she’d just have to play it by ear. She wondered if Ben had taken it badly. Maybe so, because Eric’s mood was definitely off.

She got her usual Grande Flat White and he ordered some drink with a variety of sweeteners and flavors. Eric, she recalled, drank his coffee black. Straight and to the point, she thought. That’s how she liked her men.

“You haven’t told me why you’re in town. Just to see your parents?”

He chuckled. “That’s what Eric asked. No, I’ve got a job interview. At the University.”

“Really?” She couldn’t decide what she wanted. She knew Eric and Ben were close, but it would be so much less awkward if he were in another state. Still, they weren’t dating anymore, and hadn’t been for a long time. So how much would he care, anyway? Surely he’d be happy for both of them.

“I’m thinking seriously of taking it if they make me an offer.”

She flashed a bright smile. “You miss warm weather.”

“I miss you,” he said, boldly taking her hand. “I left because of an amazing opportunity, but I never felt like we were finished. I’d like us to keep moving forward. I’d like us to be together. I miss you, Tiffy.”

“Oh.” She froze for a second, then slowly tugged her hand back. “I—I don’t really know how to say this gently. But, well, the truth is…” She drew in a breath. “I’m sorry, Ben. But I don’t miss you. Not like that. I—like you a lot. But I don’t love you.”

“You could.”

Her smile was melancholy. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think so. Not like you want. As a friend, absolutely.” She leaned forward. “And you deserve someone who sees you that way. Who saw you that way in their heart from the very first moment they knew you. She’s out there, I’m sure of it. But she isn’t me.”

“Is there someone else? Someone you love?”

She ran her hands through her hair. “Does it matter? Even if there wasn’t, it wouldn’t change how I feel—how I don’t feel—about you.”

“And that,” he said, “means there is.”

She nodded. Love. She did. Fast, maybe. But true. “Yeah,” she said. “There is. There really is.”