I pause when I see that the bar is closed and sectioned off. It looks like someone took a sledgehammer to the glass shelving that once held an impressive wall of liquor bottles.
“Can I help you?” The voice sounds out of breath.
My eyes snap from the damage to a petite woman with long black hair, bronze skin, and a warm smile. She’s dressed in a white chef’s coat, which isn’t what I expect a hostess to wear, and I think she recognizes my puzzled expression because she glances at the bar, where two guys are now carefully hauling in a sheet of glass, probably to replace the bar backdrop.
“We’re a little short-staffed on account of this mess and the dinner rush,” she says apologetically. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“Oh no, not long. I’m actually here to see Sebastian or Marcus.”
The woman’s head tilts, and she’s just about to speak when Sebastian Conner walks through the double doors behind her.
He’s as gorgeous as ever—messy, dark brown hair, a straight nose, and full pink lips, which are currently sucking obscenely on the end of a pen while he walks, staring absently at the clipboard in his hand.
“Boss?”
Sebastian glances up, and his pale blue eyes meet mine. He pulls the pen from his mouth and gives me a knowing smirk. “Fiona Flowers.”
Goosebumps sheet my skin at the deep timbre of his voice. His sharp jaw is lined with dark stubble, and he looks more tired than I remember, though I suppose I can’t talk. I haven’t slept properly in months.
“Hi, Sebastian,” I chirp as he approaches, and I stick out my hand.
He stares down at it, then steps forward, wrapping me in a tight hug. I swallow my squeak of surprise as his embrace just about forces the breath from my body. He smells like citrus and something earthy.
“Oh, we’re hugging,” I stammer awkwardly, and I hear the hostess snicker.
Sebastian’s chuckle rumbles against my ear, which is held against his very muscular pec. “Sorry.” He drops his arms.
“You’re Fiona Flowers!” I turn back to the woman behind me, and her smile widens. “I’ve heard so much about you! I’m Gabriella.”
I give Sebastian a bewildered look because why would he be talking about me?
“You…have?”
“Not from him,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “From Charlie and the boys whenever they come around.”
“Oh.” I smile. “Well, that makes sense. I think Charlie would make me join her throuple if the guys and I agreed. And I guess that would make it a quadrouple?”
Sebastian makes a funny sound in the back of his throat, and Gabriella bursts out laughing.
“Sorry.” My cheeks flush when I realize that was a weird thing to say to my friend’s brother. “The filter between my brain and my mouth is a little buggy sometimes.” I glance at Seb, who’s giving me an amused smile.
“What brings you up to Vancouver?” he asks, holding the clipboard against his chest.
“If you’re not too busy, I actually have a favor to ask.” My stomach flips. I don’t rely on other people for anything, so asking for help is really hard. But I take a breath and continue. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
“Yeah, of course.” His large hand drops to my elbow, and he gently guides me toward the doors he just came through. Clearly, I’ve been starved for touch after all these months by myself because Seb’s warm palm feels way too good, even through the thick material of my coat.
“What happened there?” I ask, nodding at the bar as we pass it.
Sebastian’s gaze darkens. “An old-fashioned bar fight, if you can believe it.”
“Yikes, I’m sorry.”
He shrugs and holds open the door for me, and we walk down a dimly lit hallway. “It’s fine.” His annoyed tone says otherwise. “Insurance will cover most of the cost, but Marcus isn’t happy about the little blurb in theVancouver Sun.” He gestures to a door on the right, and I enter an office.
It’s a bit dated with dark Berber carpet, a particle wood desk, two well-worn rolling chairs, and a few gray metal filing cabinets lining the back wall. Framed pictures catch my eye. There are some family shots, but most are photos of Brothers’ Beer & Bourbon, including one of Sebastian and Marcus standing outside in the rain with boyish grins as they point at the neon pub sign.
When I turn around, Sebastian is standing by the door with a soft smile on his face. He nods at one of the chairs. “Sit.” I do, and Sebastian sits across from me. He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a bottle of whisky and two glasses. “Drink?”
