Julian’s gaze slid to Thane’s in astonishment. “Are you serious? You put me through hell because you wanted to impress one of the Silva boys?”
Color rushed to Thane’s cheeks. He jerked his head toward the bartender. “You got me drunk, and I told you that in confidence. I’m never gonna live it down, am I?” He hooked a thumb over to Julian. “The food is great, and he needs a menu. I’ll have my usual.”
“What about you?” Padraig asked Julian.
“How about a Diet Coke? I need to be sober to retain all the facts so I can spread them far and wide,” Julian teased, his entire focus still on Thane. “What happened to you, man?”
A cackle came from the center seat of the bar. An old man reading a romance novel, based on the picture of the half-naked girl and guy on the cover, slapped the bar. “Walker’s an arrogant one. He needs someone in his life to knock him down a peg or two.”
“Pat, meet Julian. He’s one of my general managers. Pat’s family owns the pub. Padraig’s his grandson,” Thane said, waving a hand in the air to stop the conversation as he hooked an arm on the bar and turned fully toward Julian. Thane wore a smug grin. “What happened to me is the same thing that’s about to happen to you with Beckett.” Thane shook his head ruefully. “Reformed players become sickeningly devoted creatures. I can’t even stand myself. You’ll see.”
Julian picked up the menu without saying a word. He wasn’t about to disagree because Thane was usually right. Julian could already see the writing on the wall. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his heart filled with happiness at the thought of a lifetime devoted to Beckett. Bring it on.
The End