Page 24 of Grace on the Rocks

Bryan nodded.ThroughTeàrlachwas technically true.Itdidn’t really do their friendship justice, but he hadn’t really done their friendship justice, either, not for years now.

“Wait, were you at the wedding?Youcouldn’t have been.I’dremember you.”

Bryan’s mouth went dry, though she didn’t seem to realize she’d said she found him memorable. “No.Couldn’tmake it.”

She nodded and turned back to theTVwhere they were starting an interview with her brother.

“I wish the bride hadn’t been able to make it,” she muttered.

An unexpected grin slid across his face before he could stop it, and she turned back to him in horror, like she was afraid he’d sell a soundbite to the press.

“I didn’t say that out loud,” she whispered.

“Didn’t hear it,” he replied, and they both turned back to theTV, whereBryanraised the volume a fraction so she could listen to the midfielder’s voice.

She frowned. “Doeshe look tired to you?”

“He would be, wouldn’t he?”Bryansaid without thinking.Diegodid look a bit worn out, and maybe he had dark circles under his eyes.Bryanwas certainly tired, and he didn’t run laps with twenty-year-olds for a living.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, instantly defensive once again.

He shrugged. “Noneof us is getting any younger, as you recently mentioned.”

“He’s barely thirty-three!”

“Which is about five years older than the average.Geriatricin footballer years.”Itwas true, but why couldn’t he stop needling her?

“He’s the heart and soul of his team,” she said fiercely, but with an edge of something like worry.

“Maybe he’s just tired.Maybean earthquake kept him up.”

“Yeah.Anearthquake calledMathildaRivers.”Graceglowered at theTVwhere the interview had ended and the national anthem was about to begin.Itwas time forBryanto offer a proper truce by retreating to his room.

“He’s tough.He’llbe fine.Ifyou need help with theWi-Fi… giveCaitrionaa call,” he said with a devilish tone, and she snorted.

The stifled laughter did funny things to his stomach—unwelcome things.Shewas his friend’s sister.Atourist.Shewas not for him.

“Good night,Rios,” he said to put some distance between them. “Ifyou change your mind,I’msureCaitleftMullCheddarin the fridge,” he added before making himself scarce.

* * *

Despite not sleeping,he was up and champing at the bit by an ungodly hour.He’dalready drunk two cups of coffee beforeWesleymade an appearance, tousled and chipper, like a windswept mountain sprite.

“Hungry?” he asked, but she shook her head.

“Just eager to get out there and ramble.”

“Ramble?” he asked, a little concerned she might get lost or end up somewhere she oughtn’t go. “Anywherein mind?”

Again she shook her head, though she didn’t seem put off by his anxious questioning. “Everywhere,” she said with a wistful tone. “Iwant to see it all.”

“Ah.”Bryanremembered the glasses case his cousin had given him the night before and fished it out of his jacket pocket. “Teàrlachfound these.Arethey either of yours?”

Her warm expression shuttered, but she reached for the leather case. “Thanks,” she said without enthusiasm. “Iwas hopingIlost them.”

Bryan quirked his head to the side, and she glanced at him sheepishly.

“Any tips for a nice ramble?”

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