Ryan

I walked into the bar and sent our day-shift bartender home after settling in.

“Still in a pissy mood?” Frank asked when he spotted me.

“No, it’s about my buddy Grant. You remember him, right?”

Frank nodded. “The old guy? Comes in here sometimes to give you shit?”

“Yeah.” I grinned, thinking about the few times Grant had graced us with his presence. He gave each of us Fisher boys crap, but always me the most. “He had some sort of heart issue. He’s in the hospital.”

“Shit, is he okay? How’d you find out?”

“I saw him on the beach this morning.” I shook my head to rid myself of the mental image of him lying there unconscious. “I went with him to the hospital. They said he made it through surgery, but I really want to see him.”

“Go,” Frank said. “I can handle this.”

I shook my head. “He’s not awake. They’re going to call me as soon as he is,” I said as I rinsed out a glass and set it on the rack to air dry.

Frank came over to stand next to me. “He doesn’t have any family, right?”

“No. Just him.”

“He’ll be okay,” Frank said. “He’s a tough old bastard.”

I was thankful for his optimism but couldn’t shake the antsy feeling that had been dogging me, and I knew it wasn’t only because of Grant. The angel had me bugging out. I’d never so blatantly been hated by a woman before, and I wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it. Not that I hadn’t ever pissed off a female in the past, but I’d always known what I’d done to deserve it. When it came to this particular woman, I had no fucking clue, and it was ruining my ability to think about anything else.

“What else is eating at you?” Frank narrowed his green eyes on me, eyes that looked just like our mother’s.

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 expression 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.