Adios Pantalones (Fisher Brothers 3)

He folded his arms across his chest. “Is that why you’re upset? Because she didn’t give you a chance, or because she misjudged you?”

Scratching the back of my head, I pulled at it, cracking my neck. “I’m pissed that she made the decision for me without even asking. I had no say at all. I kept pursuing her, begging her to go out with me, and it was stupid. She was never going to say yes. And she was never going to tell me why, either.”

“It’s a little messed up, to be honest.”

“Which part?”

Frank sighed. “All of it, I guess. I have no idea what it’s like to be a parent, so I can’t know what she was thinking, but it’s her loss, man. It’s totally her loss.”

I knew that. Somewhere deep down in me, I knew that was true. But why didn’t it feel like it? Why did it feel like I was the one losing somehow?

“I’m just so fucking mad,” I admitted.

Frank stepped close and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I would be too. I’d be pissed. Especially if I knew she was dead wrong. That’s the worst part, how absolutely off base she is.”

“The worst part for me is how much more I wanted her after learning she has a son, you know?” I swallowed, my throat feeling thick. “It was like a switch flipped on inside me, and everything made sense.”

“What made sense?”

“How she pushed me away all the time and didn’t want me to get close. At first, I thought it was a defense mechanism. Then I realized it was because she didn’t think I’d be good enough for her son.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“I told her a lot of things.” I winced slightly as I thought back on what I’d said.

“How’d she take it? What’d she have to say about it?”

“I might have run off,” I said, bracing for Frank’s reaction.

He laughed. “You ran away from her?”

“It was either leave or end up fighting someone. I was kinda riled up.” Then I remembered the encounter that brought me to Sofia in the first place. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

“Hold that thought,” Frank said before greeting a couple who had walked in.

While I waited, I whipped up a few Bad Apples and poured them into sample glasses. Walking around the bar, I handed them out to our customers to try—on the house, of course—before I made my way back to Frank, who was free again.

“Go on.” He circled a hand in the air, encouraging me to get it all out. We were running out of time to have a serious discussion before the bar got busy.

“The whole reason I even saw her today was because she was fighting with some guy. He was threatening her. She seemed really upset.”

“Who was it?”

“Her kid’s father, apparently.”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe you dodged a bullet with that one. Sounds like there’s a lot of drama there, and that’s the last thing any of us need.”

I couldn’t help but agree with that assessment, but something still didn’t sit right with me. Their interaction hadn’t seemed cordial at all. It had been strained, uncomfortable, and confrontational.

“What’s with the face, sourpuss?”

Grant’s gruff voice snagged my attention, and I smiled for what felt like the first time all day. Turning to face him, I put on a straight face so I could give him shit.

“Who let you in, old man?”

“Who’s gonna try and stop me?”

I drew him a beer like he usually ordered, but when I slid it to him, Grant grimaced.