yes
Weston
you also nearly killed our mom
in my defense, it was an accident
Wyatt
why is he in here
Ronnie
You crack me up, Grady
I gotta hear this story!
Tonight, after the soft opening
See you at Suds, hotties
Not sure how it’s taken me this long to check out the one and only bar in town—maybe I’ve been a little preoccupied with the other food and drink establishment of the Heights— butSmoky Suds ispackedafter the soft opening of downtown this afternoon.
Barnwood interior, it’s rustic with an authentic, broken-in vibe. Something a pub in the city would pay good money to replicate, but theirs would be sophisticated, with smooth, sanded walls and a color palette they paid tens of thousands for from a prestigious interior designer.
This place would probably bite back if you brushed up against a wall, and the neon signs are far from classy, but it works here.
Square bar in the center, surrounded by a gruff crowd at the countertops, mismatched tables strewn throughout the rest of the open room, with some pool tables and dart boards in the back, it’s nothing special, but it feels like a welcome place to end a long day like today.
Am I becoming a local? Lexi would be so proud of me.
A path clears for us as we make our way to the bar, my height and stature doing a lot of the work for us. The tattoos I got in and out of prison probably don’t hurt either.
All the other times I’ve seen Weston he’s had a cocky smile on his face, but tonight he’s got a little of his brother’s sour on his face, and I’m guessing it’s me.
“Let me clear the air,” I start off, leaning one arm against the sticky bar surface as we wait for the lone bartender who looks like he couldn’t give a single fuck to make his way over to us.
Four begrudging dark green eyes look up at me, while Ronnie’s eager blue ones wait to hear what I have to say.
“The whole killing your mom thing. I’m sorry about that, guys. Honest mixup. If it helps, I hit on her first.”
“You what?” Wyatt grits out.
Ronnie’s peals of laughter almost mask those words entirely, but I’m good at understanding angry and dangerous men after the life I grew up in.
“Yeah, ask your brother. I’ve got a soft spot for her. I’d never put her in an anaphylactic reaction on purpose. That’s not my kink. An older woman, yeah. Choking on my dick, sure. Choking on my food? Not really my thing.”
Weston stares at me, Wyatt rubs his straining jaw, and I think I hear teeth cracking, but honestly that could’ve been the cue ball breaking a round behind us. Who’s to say for sure.
Ronnie wraps an arm around my shoulders—well, as close as he can get to them—and the other around Wyatt’s. “See, Grady? Honest mistake.”
How those two are best bros, I’ll never know. A single meeting was enough to show me they make zero sense, but hey, sometimes opposite attract, amirite? Just look at Weston and Amelia.
“I’m not really in the business of killing my clients these days,” I toss out, but no one pays me any attention.
“He hit on my mother?” Wyatt’s nostrils are flaring dangerously.
“Mine, too, man,” Weston adds.
