Adios Pantalones (Fisher Brothers 3)

Now it was my turn to choke out a cough. #DyinForRyan was one of the hashtags women posted when they talked about the bar. “How do you know about that?”

“I don’t live in a cave. I’ve seen them all. #DyinForRyan. #FishWish, whatever the hell that means. #SpankMeFrank. #LickedByNick. I can’t believe the gumption of the women these days.” He sounded part disgusted and part impressed.

“Do you have a Twitter account?” I shook my head, unable to picture it.

“Instagram.”

Grant’s response was so deadpan, I had no idea if he was serious or not. I cocked my head, raising one eyebrow, letting him know so before he laughed.

“I don’t really know how to use it,” he admitted, “but I downloaded it after being in your bar. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Turns out I wasn’t missing much.”

“I’ll make sure to pass that along to Nick.”

“I’ll tell him you were lying,” he shot back.

“You gonna stop fighting with me over every single thing?”

“Probably not.” He faked a yawn, pretending like my company bored him. “You ever going to put those flowers down?”

“Probably not.”

“She won’t want your damn flowers, you know.”

“She might not think she wants them, but she does.”

Glaring at me, he said, “She’d want them if they were from me.”

Grant started to cough, slapping at his chest to get it to stop. I wasn’t sure that sort of thing was even effective, yet we all did it.

“Then you should have gotten off your ass and bought her some,” I told him.

This time he did find something to throw at me. A Sharpie flew through the air and hit me in the stomach before bouncing off and pinging to the floor. I didn’t even attempt to grab it, even though I could have easily caught it with one hand.

I let Grant have his moment of satisfaction, striking me with flying objects, before I bent down to pick it up.

Where the hell did he get a Sharpie from, anyway?

Say Yes

Sofia

I stood outside the doorway for a minute longer, wondering what else Ryan and Grant would say before I made my entrance.

Ryan had flowers for me—I gathered that much from what I’d accidentally overheard. It hadn’t been my intention to eavesdrop, but when I arrived at Grant’s door, I couldn’t help but hear their banter. Neither had said my name, but my gut told me the she they kept referring to was me.

Part of me wanted to turn around and bolt until the coast was clear, meaning until Ryan was long gone, but my mom could only watch Matson for so long.

She had a meeting tonight she couldn’t get out of, so my time to visit Grant was limited.

I sucked in a breath and reminded myself that I wasn’t there for Ryan Manwhore Fisher. Grant was the reason for my visit, and I wanted to make sure he was okay. Ryan being here was an unfortunate side effect that I had no control over.

As much as I wanted to pretend that I hated Ryan for being here now, all my girlie parts screamed the opposite. They definitely liked that he was here. I’d denied myself male attention for so long that I’d almost forgotten what it was like. Ryan made it hard to keep my resolve. But in those moments of weakness, my son’s face flashed in my mind and I steeled myself, instantly remembering that my life wasn’t just about me anymore.

Matson was the reason for my standoffish behavior. I had to not only protect my heart, but my innocent son’s as well. Ryan wasn’t good for either for us, no matter how hard he tried to convince me otherwise. Agreeing to date him would be like begging for my heart to be shattered. I might be a strong woman, but even I could only take so much.

Drawing in a calming breath, I took a step into the room before I could talk myself out of it. The conversation stopped midsentence as both men turned their attention to me. Grant propped himself up higher in the bed, finger-combing his hair, while Ryan moved toward me like a wild animal stalking his prey.

I was definitely that prey.