Page 33 of Rafferty

Farren grins broadly and points at me. “That right there is proof of his feelings. He has no intention of exploiting you with continuing this scheme and he’s being protective of you. That’s his way of saying it’s not a ploy anymore.”

“You think?” I ask, head tilted.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” a deep voice intones behind me, and Farren’s looks past my shoulder. I turn to see a tall blond man in a business suit, his tie loosened, and a confident smile stretched across his face. I recognize him as one of the two men from the end of the bar who were staring at us a bit ago. He moves around me to lean an elbow on the table, looking between me and Farren. “I think you two ladies need another drink.”

“We’re good,” Farren says sweetly, nodding to our beers.

“I’m Ian,” he says, and then nods back at the bar. “My buddy Stephan is over there. What brings you two beauties out tonight?”

Farren nods to the TV. “Just watching the Titans play.”

He glances back at the game, a grin falling into place. “You girls need some help in understanding what’s going on? I can explain it to you.”

My mouth sags at his blatant offer to mansplain hockey to us and I’m almost ready to tell him off when Farren puts her chin in the palm of her hand and croons at him. “Please… I’d love to have you explain a bit of it to us.”

“Yes,” I say, keeping my tone light and curious. “Please explain it to us.”

Ian puffs out his chest and launches into a basic explanation of hockey, mentioning the puck, the icing rule—things I knew as a casual fan even before meeting Rafferty. Farren nods along, her expression a mask of feigned fascination.

Then, without missing a beat, she interjects with a stat bomb. “Did you know Rafferty Abrams leads the team in penalty minutes and is third in the league for assists by a defenseman? Also, the Titans are leading this season in power-play percentage, thanks largely to their aggressive forechecking strategy, especially in the neutral zone.”

The guy blinks, his smile shuttering, then sliding right off his face. Farren adds the kicker by pointing at the TV. “I know that stat and a million more because that’s my brother we’re watching.”

The man winces. “Rafferty Abrams is your brother?”

Farren beams a smile and points at me. “And she’s dating him. To answer your questions so there’s no ambiguity, no, we don’t want a drink, and we most certainly don’t need the game explained to us.”

Poor Ian. He mumbles something about us enjoying the game, says an awkward “Go Titans,” and then quickly retreats back to the end of the bar where he explains to his buddy why he struck out.

Farren and I burst into laughter, clinking our beers together.

“God, that felt good,” Farren says, wiping tears from her eyes. “Men can be such idiots sometimes.”

I nod, still chuckling. “You’re wickedly smart, you know that?”

“Runs in the family.” She winks. “But enough about those losers. Let’s talk about you and my brother again. You like him. Like, really like him, don’t you?”

I sigh, giving a shrug as if I’m not sure, but my words say otherwise. “Yes, I do. And I think he likes me too, but with everything going on, with Tansy and all, it’s just a lot.”

Farren nods sympathetically. “Rafferty doesn’t open up easily. If he’s showing you his real self, that’s huge. He must really trust you.”

The game continues in the background, but for a moment, it’s just white noise as we delve deeper into our conversation. Farren shares stories about their childhood, painting a picture of a brother who always stood up for her, protective but not smothering.

And accepting of what I’m learning are quirks Farren proudly embraces. “Rafferty will tell you I’m impulsive, flighty and prone to jumping feet first into trouble. But he’d lay his life down for me in the defense of one of my idiotic adventures.”

“Your family sounds so much like mine, in that you’re all super close and supportive of each other.”

“Which is something that is important to both you and Rafferty. It’s a value you both share. A match made in heaven.”

I don’t know about that, though I’m willing to poke around. But we’ve been talking about me enough. “So, tell me more about you. What exactly brought you to Pittsburgh?” I ask, shifting the focus from my tangled emotions.

She shrugs. “Got bored with my job. My boyfriend was an asshole. It was time for a change.”

“What are your plans? Will you stay here for a while?”

Farren smiles, circling her finger around the lip of the bottle. “I think so. Rafferty says I have to get a job and pay him rent, and well…” She waves her hand at the bar where the urbanites are paying for fancy drinks. “I could make good tips in a place like this. It’ll do.”

I find it odd that Farren isn’t the ambitious type. I know she’s brilliant as Rafferty was bragging about her at the reception last night, calling her a genius, and I don’t think he was being tongue in cheek. But this isn’t something I want to press her on. I don’t want her to think I don’t respect her.

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