Page 5 of Turning Tides
Mickey rolled his eyes. “We’re not married. But life is good.”
Mickey’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink.
“When are you going to make an honest man out of Ethan?”
Mickey elbowed me. “Do you ever stop meddling?”
I pretended to think about it. “No, probably not.”
“Can you?”
“Oh, definitely not.” I grinned at him and the way he pretended to look dejected. Mickey had walked into my bar and right into my heart, taking up residence next to my brothers. Sometimes he made me miss Brodie something fierce. It wasn’t because they were anything alike, but we had this easy sort of big brother/little brother dynamic. It was so sweet my teeth ached.
“Has anyone told you lately that you’re a pain in the ass, Shane?”
I’d have answered him, but the sight of someone sliding hesitantly onto a stool at my end of the bar stole my attention. Whoever he was, he was fucking pretty. Dark hair, pouty lips, ink for days. A messenger bag hanging off his shoulder, he looked around the bar.
I slid over to him, hoping to get some flirting in if the situation looked right. Up close he was even prettier. Thick eyelashes framed the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He probably hadn’t shaved in a couple days, leaving a sexy layer of scruff that I’d love to feel against my skin. He hadn’t looked overly tall when I’d clocked him taking a seat, but short suited me fine. Short, tall, thin, thick, male, female. I had four hundred types and this guy was definitely on that list.
“What can I get you?” I asked. He looked at me with his big blue eyes.
“Is Cyrus here?” Saying the words seemed to make this guy deflate a little. Like Cyrus was the last person he wanted to see.
“What’s your business with my cook?” I tried not to be an asshole most of the time, but it was weird for someone to come into my bar and ask for my cook like they were asking to have a tooth pulled.
Annoyance flared in his eyes, making them impossibly bluer. “Is Cyrus here?”
He didn’t give me more than that. Not a single inch. He set his jaw and tilted his chin up, daring me to take him on. And then it hit melike a sack of bricks. The pretty guy with the tattoos could only be the mysterious brother Cyrus had been talking about.
“I’ll get him.”
My acquiescence earned me the barest of nods, the smallest approval. If the guy wasn’t Cyrus’s brother, I’d totally have turned on the charm and tried to flirt my way into making something happen. But Cyrus would kill me.
Slipping into the kitchen, I found Cyrus grilling up a burger. He’d taken it upon himself to feed Mickey every day and I think he thought of him as a younger brother too.
“Hey, Cyrus. Is that the Mickey special?”
“Don’t tell me he’s actually admitted that he’s hungry?” Cyrus cast a look of shock over his shoulder.
“Nothing that radical has happened.”
Mickey was the kind of guy who could be on fire and ask if maybe you wouldn’t mind putting him out, if you had the time, and the water to spare. “You have a visitor.”
Cyrus plated the burger and I took it from him. “He’s out front.”
Cyrus furrowed his brow. His husband usually invited himself into my kitchen, or Cyrus let him in the back way if they wanted to pretend that I didn’t know he was there.
I followed Cyrus out into the bar. The guy was still sitting there, but he had a pop and he was stirring the ice around his cup with a straw. He looked up and offered Cyrus a half smile.
“Hey, Cy. Uh… I thought we could eat dinner or whatever.”
Cyrus stomped around to the other side of the bar, yanked the guy off the stool, and pulled him into a crushing hug. “You thought? All on your own?”
“Cy… air.”
Cyrus released his brother. “Okay, maybe Marshall talked me around to it. Do you want to eat or not?”
“Keep your ass on this stool and give me ten minutes to whip up dinner for us. I swear to God, Archer, if I come out and you’ve fucked off, I will chain you to my couch.”
