When we hit the sidewalk again, I clear my throat. “Are you and Ryden close?”
“No,” he answers instantly. “We’ve always had different interests.”
I have very little in common with my brothers, but in some ways, we’re very close. In other ways, I feel they don’t really know me, so I can understand the dynamic Harry shares with Ryden.
We set out on the sidewalk side-by-side with no specific destination in mind. “Did you ever consider pursuing a career in hockey?”
Harry’s head falls back in laughter. “Hell, no. I can skate. I can manage to wield a hockey stick on the ice, but when I put the two of them together, there’s no magic there.”
That confession surprises me. “I thought you were good at everything.”
Reaching for my elbow, he slows his pace. “I’ve incredibly good at the things that matter, London.”
I can’t tell if he’s implying what I think he is, but there’s little doubt in my mind that he’s an incredible lover. He carries himself in a way that suggests that and his confidence level is through the roof.
I take a half-step closer to him as people brush past us. “So am I.”
His gaze drops to my neck and beyond before he drags his eyes back to my face. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
The unspoken words sit in the air as the city moves around us. Car horns honk, someone calls out a name followed by a greeting in French, yet we stare at each other.
“Do you feel like grabbing a drink?” he finally says in a low tone.
I shove my hands in the front pockets of my jeans. “I don’t have my ID with me. Do you think I look twenty-one?”
He chuckles. “No need for ID. I know a place near here that will serve you anything you want.”
“Anything?” I question, contemplating whether going to a bar with him again is a good idea or not.
“Anything,” he repeats, nodding his head.
I rub a finger over my right thumbnail. “You don’t have a history with the bartender’s ex, do you? I really like this sweater.”
His gaze travels over the front of my sweater. “I promise there will be no drama tonight. One drink before we say goodnight. What do you say?”
“I’m in.” I glance toward the street. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Harrison
I didn’t anticipate this bar being packed tonight, but I can’t say I’m disappointed.
The man who runs it is an old friend. He lived in the apartment next to ours when Ryden was born. I remember him back then with his blond hair and bushy mustache. Now, he’s sporting more gray than blond on the top of his head, and he’s clean-shaven.
“Harrison!” Wiley calls out to me when he spots me from where he’s behind the large wooden bar. “I’ve got a seat here for you.”
There isn’t a seat in sight, but I place a hand on the center of Ava’s back to guide her toward the bar.
She glances at me nervously before her gaze darts around the cramped space. Wiley’s Pub isn’t large, but it has a loyal clientele. All the patrons in the neighborhood helped keep the doors open even when a developer wanted to swoop in and take control of the property a few years ago.
Wiley wouldn’t hear of it, and with the generous donations from his regulars, including me, he was able to purchase the building from his landlord, securing the future of this neighborhood pub for the foreseeable future.
“Your turn to stand, “ he tells two guys who look to be college-age. “My savior just walked in, so scram.”
The men laugh it off. One slides a hand over the smooth surface on the top of the bar. “Two beers on the house will guarantee we’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“Goddamn, you both.” Wiley shoots him a toothy grin as he pops the caps on two bottles of domestic beer. “You better show up then with a tip in hand.”
They promise they’ll be back as they grab the bottles and disappear into the crowd.
I motion for Ava to hop up on one of the torn leather stools. I do the same next to her.
“Who might this pretty lady be?” Wiley skims a hand over his messy hair.
“London,” I introduce her. “London, this is Wiley.”
“London?” Wiley takes a step back, rubbing his palms over his bright blue apron. “Am I right in assuming you’re a princess?”
Ava laughs. “I’m not, but I was born there and raised here.”
“The best of both worlds.” Wiley winks at her. “What can I get for you, London? You game to try my London Fog?”
“I’m game to try anything.” She smiles. “Harry will try one too.”
“Harry?” Wiley laughs. “This pretty miss calls you Harry?”
I nod, waving a finger at him to toss him a light-hearted warning. “That doesn’t give you permission to do the same.”