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“Here you go, darling. I’m prepared to toss it away if you think it’s absolute drivel.” Graham slid Lia her drink, and I narrowed my eyes at him. Before I could speak, Agnes jumped in.
“I dearly hope you keep it up, Graham. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you get popped one, and I, for one, would be delighted to see it again.”
“You’re a bloodthirsty woman, Agnes,” Graham said, crossing his arms over his chest. I held my breath as Lia took a sip of the drink, and when pleasure flooded her face, I sighed in relief.
“This is really good, Munroe.” Lia turned to me. “Like, really good. I don’t think gin was much on my radar before, as beer was always just the cheapest option. The few times I’ve tried it, well it was a basic gin and tonic and I remember it being quite bitter.”
“That’s likely the tonic itself. The quinine in it makes it more bitter. However, tonic companies have really upped their game now. They have flavored ones, artisanal tonics, that can really play well with the different notes of a gin. It’s really a whole new playing field for gin, in my opinion, and we’ve moved away from just serving your grandpa’s gin and tonic.”
“I can see that. This is almost playful, isn’t it?” Lia mused as she took another sip, and warmth filled me. I didn’t need her to approve of my product, but it was certainly icing on the cake. My chest puffed up a bit, and I opened my mouth to expound on the qualities of gin, when Agnes jumped in.
“Speaking of playful, I did some research on the broonie for you.”
“The what now?” Graham turned around so fast that the wine in the glass he was holding almost sloshed over the rim.
“Och, didn’t anyone tell you yet? Lia found a broonie in her kitchen.”
“You don’t say?” Graham put the wine glass in front of Sophie and stared across the room, as though he was trying to remember something.
“Lia’s also the next member of the Order,” Sophie added, and Graham’s eyes snapped to Lia’s.
“Is that right? Well, in that case, your drinks are on me.”
“They are not,” I put in. “I already claimed it.”
“Yes, but it’s my pub, and she’s here to help save Loren Brae,” Graham argued back.
“I called it first,” I pointed out.
“Lads,” Agnes said, putting her hands up like she was referee. “Enough. Lia can pay for her own drinks if she feels like it. Hell, I can buy her a drink if I feel like it. What she doesn’t need is you two bickering over her when she’s clearly just trying to take it all in. Give her some breathing room, will you, you bloody eejits?”
“God,” Lia said, her hand rubbing at a spot under her chest. I couldn’t help but notice the way her shirt shifted over her breasts when she did that, and my mouth went dry thinking about her magnificent breasts at my mouth earlier. “TosaveLoren Brae. That just…wow. Yeah, right. Okay. Putting it like that really puts it in perspective, doesn’t it?”
“It’s been hard on the entire town,” Agnes explained. “Once the Kelpies began acting up again, it scared away tourism. I’m sure you noticed many of the boarded-up buildings. People couldn’t afford to keep their places open or pay their rent. Many have left for places with more opportunities. It’s heartbreaking to watch. However, we’ve had a kind benefactor in our lovely Knight here who has helped ease the sting of rent for the next year.”
“That was you?” Graham burst out, his mouth dropping open. Leaning over the bar, he clasped Sophie’s face between his hands and placed a loud smacking kiss on her lips. Lachlan was halfway out of his seat before he finished, his hands at Graham’s throat. I leaned back in my chair ready to watch the show.
“Lachlan!” Sophie tugged on his arm, pulling him back. “Please don’t kill the nice man who feeds me drinks.”
“Aye, Lachlan. Don’t kill the handsome beast who can well best you in a wrestling match,” Graham said, a glint in his eyes as he waited for Lachlan to drop his hands.
“That’s utter shite, and you know it,” Lachlan grumbled, but he released Graham. “Don’t touch my woman.”
Graham, being Graham, reached across the bar and tapped a finger on Sophie’s arm.
“Oops,” Graham said, and Lachlan growled at him.
“I swear they do this out of sheer boredom.” Agnes rolled her eyes and turned to Lia and Sophie. “Right, so here’s the deal with the broonie. There’s a long history of them in Scotland, but the information I pulled is all from myths. In the olden times, they were quite large—almost human-sized. But newer stories showcase them as being smaller, wizened beings. They can be quite helpful, as they like to be given chores to do. Kind of like…you know sheep dogs? They’re working dogs. They like to be given tasks to do, or they just about die of boredom. It’s kind of the same with broonies. They work in the night, and they’ll help on the farm or in the house, but you walk a fine line with them. You can’t insult them. If you give them clothes of any nature, they’ll leave.”
“Wait, what? Why? What does giving them clothes have to do with anything?” Lia interjected.
“I honestly have no idea,” Agnes admitted. “Do any myths make sense? They’re also known to be quite mischievous. They’ll play pranks or kick up a fuss occasionally. You’ll want to stay on his good side, so he doesn’t muck things up at the restaurant.”
“Wait, so I just…like, he lives there now?” Lia drained her drink. “My sous chef is a broonie?”
“Something like that. If you want him gone, you can give him a piece of clothing. Or at least that’s how the story goes.”
“But where would he go?” Lia asked.
