Can't Tie Me Down! (Sinclair Sisters 1)

Arguing broke out behind her, and she looked over to see that one of the men had produced a whiteboard marker and was using the window to explain how to divide up the cost of their evening. Mairi groaned.

“You going to deal with that?” Ewan said.

With deep reluctance, Mairi climbed—okay, possibly fell—off the stool and dragged herself over to the men. She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. There was instant silence.

“Enough! Order drinks now. Divide the total bill at the end of the night. That’s the way other people do it. That’s the way you’re doing it. Sebastian, take their drink orders and come to the bar.” Amir opened his mouth to say something, and Mairi held up her hand. “Don’t. Not another word. Just order.”

She stalked over to the bar and climbed back up onto the stool, which took three attempts. When she looked at Ewan, he was suspiciously straight-faced.

“Can I get a snack? Is that allowed?” Mairi asked.

“Sure. As long as it isn’t something you can throw.”

“I hate McKenzies,” Mairi grumbled.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she knew it was Keir even before she looked up. “Thanks, Rusty, that means the world to us.” He sat on the stool beside her.

She glared at him. He didn’t have to climb up. No, he just sat, because he had freakishly long legs, which meant the stool was at a convenient bum height.

“Ewan won’t let me have alcohol.” Mairi had no problem selling Keir’s cousin out. “Sort him out, will you?”

“Sure,” Keir said with a twinkle in his eye that did strange things to her stomach and made her clench her thighs together. “But I can’t take on family for just anyone. I could do it for a wife. A wife would definitely take priority over a cousin. You about ready to make that decision?”

“Wife?” Ewan’s eyebrows shot so far up his forehead that they almost made it to his hairline.

Keir gestured at the men. “They’re here to marry her. Someone hacked her business page and told her fake boyfriends that she wants a real husband. They don’t plan to leave until one of them wins. I volunteered to sacrifice my bachelor status to get her out of this mess. She doesn’t appreciate it.”

She just growled at him.

Keir grinned at his cousin. “Isn’t she cute?”

“Like a kitten,” Ewan said.

The kitten was preparing to unleash jaguar-sized claws, when Sebastian elbowed his way between Keir and Mairi, flashing a glare at Keir as he did so.

“I would like to make an order,” he said to Ewan, who just stood there, staring at him.

Keir smothered a smile, and Mairi fought the urge to hit her head on the bar.

“Does he speak English?” Sebastian asked her. “Or Gaelic? I can’t speak Gaelic, but I’m sure one of the guys does.”

“He speaks English. He’s just being a moron. Order the drinks.” She gave Ewan a pointed look, and his shoulders slumped.

“What will it be?” he said.

Sebastian looked down at the notepad in his hand. “Three Chardonnays, one Sex on the Beach, three cosmopolitans, one piña colada, one Blue Hawaii, three raspberry ciders, three low-alcohol beers, three shandies, four Red Bulls and one Guinness.”

When he’d finished giving the order, his eyes remained down, and his cheeks flushed. It took a second for Mairi to realize he was embarrassed by the order he’d given and expected to be ridiculed by Keir and Ewan. Hell no. Not on her watch. She sat up straight, her eyes going from Sebastian to the cousins, who shared a grin. Just seeing that look made her want to hit them.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” Mairi said. “A person can drink whatever they like. Who decided some drinks were girly and some were manly, anyway? If a person likes how something tastes, then nobody else has the right to comment.”

“Whoa.” Ewan held up his hands. “I run a bar. I don’t give a crap what anyone drinks. And trust me, I’ve seen it all. The gang leader who’ll only drink Earl Grey tea. The knitting club members that order top-shelf whiskey. All I care about is that no one gets too drunk and starts a fight in my pub.”

“That was years ago,” she snapped. “Forget it already.”

“It was nineteen months and two days ago,” Ewan said. “It was a Saturday. There was light rain and a northerly wind. You were wearing a fluffy pink jumper.” His eyes narrowed. “A publican never forgets.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, get the boys their drinks,” Mairi said. “And don’t act so self-righteous. I saw you two grinning at Sebastian’s order.”