BRADY'S

The rustic sounds of country music and the aroma of deep-fried food greet me as I slip in through the back door of Brady's Bar. I make a beeline for an empty booth in the far corner, slide off my jacket, and settle into the worn, cracked leather. Grabbing the menu I give it a quick scan, settling on a cheeseburger—just like the bakery lady suggested. With the menu now face down on the table, I lean back and take a minute to soak in the atmosphere around me.

The pub feels like it hasn't changed a bit since my last visit ten years ago, still holding onto its authentic and eclectic charm. Peeling plaster on the walls exposes the brick underneath, and vintage band posters are scattered around haphazardly. There’s a small, elevated stage set up near the front entrance for Thursday night karaoke. To the right, a long oak bar stretches across the entire wall, its surface aged and scuffed from years of patrons' stories and spilled drinks.

I wave down a server to place my order, and as my CC and Dry arrives, I let my attention drift to a group of men playing pool at the other end of the bar. One man stands out with his well-built frame. My eyes start at his strong legs sheathed in blue jeans and travel upwards to appreciate his firm backside and broad shoulders, wrapped in a checkered flannel shirt. As my gaze continues upward, it pauses at his rooster cap, with dirty blond hair peeking out. I smile into my drink as I take in the entire appealing scene.

Mountain man, indeed!

The thought amuses me, reminding me that I need to check in with Erin. Glancing at my phone, I see it’s just five minutes until my Siri reminder. With a chuckle, I quickly shoot her a text.

Arrived safe, you can call off the watchdogs, also hottie at 3 o'clock. No promises. - Ava 7:12 PM

Erin's reply is swift.

Took you long enough, and here I thought you’d forgotten all about your BFF, that or you must be dead! - Erin 7:13 PM

Before I can respond, her next text arrives.

Tell me more about hottie!! Does he have a big dick? - Erin 7:13 PM

Laughing and trying not to spill my drink, I respond.

I’ve only just spotted him. How the hell would I know, also he could BE a massive dick!!! - Ava 7:14 PM

Our playful text exchange keeps me entertained until my cheeseburger arrives. I set my phone aside and dive into the towering burger, savoring each bite. As I'm about three-quarters done, I notice the group of mountain men, including rooster cap, finishing their pool game and making their way toward the bar.

Just before reaching the bar, rooster cap changes course and heads toward my booth. He takes a seat across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and a smirk playing on his lips, giving me a curious look.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing eating alone in a place like this?" It's corny, but I decide to give Rooster a pass and let him talk. "Haven't seen you around before, and I definitely would've remembered if I had."

I inwardly sigh, remembering Erin's quip that a horse doesn’t need to talk to be a good ride, though I do have some standards.

Nonchalantly grabbing a fry, he continues with a slight southern drawl, "You know, me and the boys have a bet about which one of us will be leaving here with you."

My mouth falls open in shock. Oh, no he didn’t.

"And I thought to myself, 'Well, Russell, why not just cut to the chase and ask her?' So here I am, asking."

Is this guy for real? Oh, Erin would have a field day with this—Big Dick, indeed.

Unimpressed by his audacious opening, I lean back, folding my arms. "You know, it’s usually polite to ask a girl her name before you start making plans to take her home."

Russell, who looks like a rugged, younger version of Matthew McConaughey, flashes a knowing smile. "Fair point, but from where I'm sitting," he says, his gaze briefly dropping to my folded arms, "seeing you in that tight white blouse, those pouty lips, and here alone, I'd say you’re looking for a good time. And darling, whatever your name might be, I’m just offering to make your night."

Now, noticing Russell’s bloodshot blue eyes and the alcohol on his breath, I realize this encounter is going downhill fast.

I stand up, grabbing my jacket and bag. "As tempting as your offer sounds, I’m going to have to pass."

There’s nothing worse than a drunk alpha dick.

But Russell, undeterred by my lack of interest, suddenly reaches out and grips my elbow tightly, pulling me onto his lap. He breathes heavy with the smell of bourbon near my neck, pressing against me as he murmurs, "Now see here, that's not a very nice response, and I'm already getting excited," his arousal uncomfortably evident. "I suggest you rethink that answer, and we can enjoy the rest of our evening together."

"Let go," I insist, struggling to break free from his grasp. This is escalating too far, too fast. I need to act quickly to avoid more trouble.

Ignoring my demands, Russell tightens his hold and presses me closer into his groin, clicking his tongue. "Darling, that is still not the right answer, now I..."

Before he can finish, a brogue accent cuts through, "Russell, get your bloody hands off the lady before I have to call the guys on you for harassment!"

Russell’s grip loosens. Relieved, I quickly pull away and turn to see the man from the bakery stepping in between us.

"Sorry about that, lass. Name’s Liam, I own this place, and this fella and his mates were just leaving," he says authoritatively, giving Russell no room to argue. He then signals to a worker, who’s easily twice as big as Russell, to help usher the group toward the exit.

Russell stands up, feigning innocence as he raises his hands. "No harm here, Brady. Just having a chat with the lady."

"And now you and your boys are heading out!" Liam responds flatly, standing by my side as the tall, burly redhead staff member continues to guide them toward the exit.

"Till next time, pretty lady," Russell calls out, stumbling and laughing as he makes his way out. I breathe a sigh of relief when the door finally shuts behind him.

"Come, take a seat at the bar, have another drink, and you can leave once they're gone," Liam suggests, pointing towards an empty stool as the familiar smell of grass hits me again.

Thinking it’s a perfect idea and not quite ready to be alone, I accept his invitation and settle into one of the empty seats at the bar, placing my purse beside me.

"On the house, CC and Dry, right?" Liam asks, walking back behind the bar. "I wouldn't want you leaving with a bad impression of the place just because some locals can't handle their liquor," he adds, giving me a wink as he pours my drink.

It’s a shame I didn’t notice him when I first walked in—I’ll definitely have to text Erin about 'Mountain Man number 2'.

"Yes, thanks, that’s perfect," I smile, facing him. "Is that normal?"

"Russell? Unfortunately, aye. He was quite the thing around here once. Still thinks he is. Pity, since he has zero manners. Believe it or not, some girls go for that," Liam replies, shaking his head and sliding my drink across the bar.

"Well, I’m certainly not one of them."

"I figured as much when you headed for the door," he says with a nod.

Leaning forward to wipe a spill on the polished wood of the bar, Liam then mimics Russell’s voice in jest, "So, if you don't mind me asking, what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Laughing, I take a moment to really look at the man in front of me—early 30s, a strong face, dark eyes, and thick lashes. Attractive men must be a staple here.

"Two weeks of relaxation," I tell him.

As dimples break out behind his trimmed beard, he offers a smile. "Well, that gives me two weeks to get to know you better," Liam responds, switching back to his normal voice. "Let's start with formal introductions, shall we? I'm Liam Alexander Brady, 33, single, never married, no kids that I know of, and I own a dog named Spot."

"Spot? What kind of man names their dog Spot?" I tease.

"A real man, obviously." He grins, fanning his hands in front of his face and fluttering his lashes. Jeez, the strong brogue and the rolling 'r's are doing inappropriate things to my lady parts.

"Nice to meet you, Liam Alexander Brady, a real man with a dog named Spot."

"I'm Ava Louise MacTyre, 28, single, also never married. No kids—and I'm quite sure about that—and no pets. Though I do have a pet plant I call Droopy because I keep forgetting to water him."

"Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ava. And just so you know, I'm a bit of a botany expert. I can give you some tips to avoid a potential manslaughter charge for your plant," Liam quips. "I can see the headlines now: 'Beautiful girl convicted of plant neglect.'"

Laughing, I slowly sip my drink, making sure I stay under the limit. The easy chat with the seriously hot barman makes the time fly. After about half an hour, even though I'm a bit reluctant to leave, I decide it's time to head out. I get up from the stool and say goodbye to Liam, telling him I’ll be back in two nights for a real chat on his night off.

"Drive safe, lass. Those roads can be treacherous at night, and I wouldn’t want you to stand me up on our date," he calls out with a note of concern in his voice.

Shaking my head as I move towards the exit, I can't help but grin. "I never said it was a date."

Raising his hand over his heart and feigning a wounded look, he shouts back, his tone teasing yet hopeful. "Ava lass, don't wound the pride of an Irish man!"

Pretending not to hear, I blow him a kiss and step out the rear door, the familiar and comforting pull of his presence lingering as I walk into the chilly night air.