Chapter One | Noah

The Lion and Pheasant was packed. Every table, booth, and barstool was occupied. Standing room only. It was Friday night, so that wasn't unusual. The pub I owned near Victoria, BC's Inner Harbour was popular. What was unusual; two of my bartenders had gone home sick moments before the rush hit. I had replacements coming to the rescue, but until they got here, my best friend, Liam, and I would have to try to manage the ticker tape of drink order chits littering the bar top.

"Maddy!" I flagged down tonight's night manager. "Could you hop in here?"

There was a slight uptick in one of her brows. I knew she was busy assisting the servers: delivering drinks and food, running dirty dishes down to the kitchen, taking payments, and making sure the guests were behaving themselves. On top of a million other little things.

I was lucky to have her.

"Sure thing, Noah." Maddy stepped behind the bar, analyzed the situation, and started pulling a fleet of ales from our vast assortment of beer taps. She went from that to mixed drinks, regional shafts, and shots, fulfilling one order after another. I relaxed, rolled my shoulders, and refocused. The three of us should be able to handle the drink orders until reinforcements arrived.

We carried on like that for a good half an hour.

"Phillips Pale is down," Maddy shouted to me over the sound of chatter, laughter, and the live band warming up in opposition to the pounding house music. I was almost glad one of the kegs had been drained. It gave me an opportunity to retreat to the relative quiet of the basement.

A few seconds to breathe.

I just wished the keg room wasn't in the depths of the pub: roughly poured, cracked cement floors and dank musty smell in a low-ceiled poorly lit, refrigerated room.

I clambered in among the large metal kegs, only barely succeeding in keeping my attention on my task and not on the darkness in the back corners of the space. If you gazed into the blackness long enough, your eyes would start to play tricks; detecting movement where there was none.

I couldn't keep a shiver from running down my spine.

There's nothing back there.

Of course, the pale ale I wanted required me to climb and lay across a row of kegs to reach the valves. Stretched as far as I could, the metal rims digging into my muscles, my fingers strained to make the switch to the full keg. I managed the manoeuvre without spraying myself with beer.

Back upstairs, I was relieved to see the two bartenders I had called to come in behind the bar, stepped in alongside Liam, pouring drinks at record speed. Maddy had returned to the floor, checking in with the hosts and the bouncer, Chris, whose only task was to check identification at the door and move along any patrons who were deemed too drunk or rowdy.

A guy with a familiar face slid onto a vacated seat at the bar. He'd been coming in every night this week, occupying a space for a couple of hours, nursing a gin and tonic as he ate a plate of our buffalo wings. Liam, ever the charmer, only managed to get a few slight smirks out of him.

He'd finish up and leave after casting a glance my way. He was there at the same time each night when I was typically behind the bar. I had developed a habit of knowing when he was about to leave, out of the corner of my eye catching him balling up his paper napkin and wet wipe and discarding them on his plate then throwing back the remnants of his drink.

Our eyes would lock for a moment.

There was something sad about them, his eyes. Like he'd lost someone or something. Like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. There was a part of me that wanted to know which it was. I slipped behind the bar and mixed his gin and tonic and set it down on a coaster in front of him. He looked up at me, his eyebrows raised, seeming a little surprised.

"I made a guess," I said and leaned on the bar top.

"I must be predictable."

"Nothing wrong with having a favourite." I tried a smile out on him. He didn't bite.

"You know what food I want to order?"

"Buffalo wings, right?"

He gifted me with a slight lift in the corner of his mouth. Then his gaze travelled from my eyes to my mouth and back again. "The spicy heat clears my head."

After lifting his drink to his lips and then setting it back in front of him, he combed his fingers through the riot of dark curls on top of his head. The action made my breath stutter a little.

My sullen customer was gorgeous. An angular jaw with neatly trimmed bristles that would feel amazing running roughshod between my thighs. Broody, clear mahogany eyes; long lashes. And full kissable lips the colour of pink rose petals in the summer sun.

I cleared my throat. "I'll order those wings for you …?" I arched an eyebrow.

"Brody," he murmured barely loud enough for me to hear him.

Broody Brody.

I smiled and extended my hand. "Noah. "

Brody hesitated but then accepted my handshake. My heart thundered as he held my hand for far too long. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, darted his tongue across his lower lip, and then released my hand. As if the prolonged contact had embarrassed him, he stared down at his drink. I moved to the computer and placed his order.

Liam nudged me. "Did he actually speak to you?"

"Briefly."

"Looked like more than I've ever gotten out of him." Liam dried a glass with a bar towel and set it on the bar top. "He sure likes to keep his eyes on you."

"Pfft. Not many places to look when he's facing the bar."

"Keep telling yourself that but he doesn't keep sneaking glances at me." A smile burst across Liam's face. "And that is incredibly unusual."

I laughed. "Conceited bastard."

Liam jostled me, smirking. "Admit it. You think I'm beautiful."

"A beautiful pain in my ass."

"You love me."

"Did you ever offer me a choice?" I grasped the back of Liam's neck. "You know I do."

The bar humming along, I took a step back, crossed my arms, and gazed out across the crowds of patrons from one end of the pub to the other. It's not what my parents wanted for me but most days, my decision to open a pub made me happy. Rather than follow in my parents' and siblings' footsteps, I'd bucked the trend and not become a corporate lawyer and joined the family law firm. It had caused friction over the years, and I often second-guessed myself.

Had I done the right thing?

Looking around right now, though—in this moment, I loved it. My heart was here. Beating in the centre of these four walls. But is that slice of joy a measure of success ?

The pub needed a lot of work still to make it perfect. The entire space needed to be painted but that would be impossible unless we closed for a few days. Same with the upholstery on the booth seating and the leather on the stools. It all needed to be redone. Even the glasses needed to be replaced. They were there from the previous owner, and some were becoming slightly foggy.

I didn't have enough money for any of it.

I made my way back to Brody and set a roll of cutlery, a small plate, and a packaged wet wipe in front of him. He chanced a glance at me. Then back to his drink.

"Thank you."

"Sure thing, handsome."

Mm. Now that was a thing of beauty. My term of endearment had caused a rosy flush to colour Brody's cheeks. I wondered how far down his chest that bloom descended.

One of the food runners placed Brody's plate of wings on the bar top.

"Enjoy," I said and left him to it, sensing his attention was on my ass as I walked away—if Liam was correct, and Brody was watching me. If I had to read him, I'd label him gay or bi-curious.

Not interested.

I liked my guys experienced. When I was in my 20s, I loved popping guys' gay sex cherries, but now in my mid-30s, I liked to get busy with someone who knew what they were doing.

I looked over my shoulder at Brody.

Then why is he doing it for me?

I almost missed his exit from the pub an hour later. He stood at the edge of the bar, his hands resting on it. Three strong inhales and exhales as he watched me, and then he turned and left.

Strange guy .

Last call came at half past midnight. We were open until one, but I wouldn't be closing tonight. Maddy had drawn the short straw. There was always paperwork to be done but I'd been working since eight this morning. At 1:20, Liam and I ducked out into the cold, damp autumn night.

I reached over and gripped Liam's arm. Sitting at one of the tables on our patio was a figure, the mist from his warm breath wafting above him like a thinning cumulous cloud.

It was dark. The only illumination was a few street lanterns reflected in the puddles surrounding the cobblestones and the dancing spots of light from a string of overhead bulbs.

I could barely make out the figure's features. The collar of his bulky coat was pulled up near his ears, and he had produced a toque, but there was no doubt, it was Brody.

"I think he's here for you," Liam said. "Do you want me to stick around?"

I patted Liam's shoulder. "No. Pretty sure he's harmless."

In two steps, Liam had me wrapped up in a hug. I clung to him, enjoying the familiar strength and grip of his hands, and the firmness of a chest I had fallen asleep on more than once—as a friend. Our relationship was entirely platonic. Close. I did love him—but not in a romantic way.

"Be careful," he whispered in my ear.

"Always. I'll call if he turns out to be an axe murderer."

As Liam puffed out a chuckle and walked away, Brody stood—without a word.

"Walk with me," I said and motioned in the direction I intended to go. The road led toward home but also a restaurant that stayed open late and served the best pie in town.

Brody jogged and caught up with me.

"Were you waiting for me?" Might as well start with the obvious question. Were you waiting for me? Are you a stalker? And are you planning on murdering me ?

I was being dramatic. Brody was just a guy who seemed a little lost. Not sure what he wanted from me, but the memory of those sad eyes of his made me feel for him.

Maybe I could help him in some way.

"Yes." His voice was rushed like a hiss and barely registered above a whisper.

"Why?"

Brody stopped walking. "Sex."

Whoa. Direct much? I'd been propositioned by countless men in my life, but they usually pretended to get to know me a little before they shot me a dick pic and suggested we fuck.

This guy? Straight to the point.

I tugged his arm and got him walking again. "How do you know I even like men?"

"You flirt with them at the pub."

"Maybe that's just an act to get them to drink more."

Brody stopped again and turned to face me. "Did I get it wrong?"

I crossed my arms. To be honest, Brody was making me feel a little unsettled. I wasn't sure if it was my Spidey senses telling me to duck and run or if the guy simply intrigued me.

His brow furrowed as he stared at me with those sorrowful eyes.

"Do you like pie?" I asked.

Now his brow really screwed up. "As in vagina? No."

I laughed. "No, I'm talking pecan, lemon meringue, blueberry, pumpkin—"

"Are you gay, or aren't you?"

Sheesh . Chill for a second.

"I am gay, but I think we should sit down and eat the best pie in the city and talk about why you blurted sex at me when I asked you a why are you stalking me question."

"I'm not stalking you. I like your pub. The wings are good. "

Okay. But that's not my point. "I meant stalking me after the pub closed."

Brody jammed his hands into his coat pockets and started walking.

"Not stalking," he muttered.