Page 121 of The Reno

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Liam opened his mouth, but Ren lifted his palms. “I just want to know I didn’t fly all the way home to finally open this restaurant for you to go saunter off down south.”

“I’m moving up,” I announced.

You could hear a pin drop. Liam’s wide eyes met mine. Ren’s eyebrows rose.

“And I’m designing the restaurant for you for free. So be nice to me, you little shit.”

Ren gave me a slow smile, then a quick nod.

“Okay. That shut me up.” Ren rose and tucked the chair back.

“Hang on,” I said. “This doesn’t feel fair. You come over here, interrogate me, then walk off. Don’t I get to hear any embarrassing stories about Liam?”

Ren’s eyes glittered, and he gave a smile. “What do you want to know, Kat?”

“Ren—”

“Do you want to hear about how he wet the bed till he was seven?”

My mouth fell open as Liam jumped out of his seat. Ren was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Or how he couldn’t get a girl to go with him to prom, so he took our cousin—”

Liam hauled his brother halfway across the restaurant while Ren laughed manically. “Wait, wait. Liam—wait. I need to takeyour drinks orders.” Ren held up his hands in surrender. “Come on, I’m not going to say anything else.”

“Dickhead,” Liam muttered as he reluctantly let Ren go and returned to his seat.

“Katherine”—he turned to me—“what is your favourite cocktail, and can I make you one?”

“Oh—”

“I presume you drink?” Ren’s eyes shifted to Liam. “Unlike this one, who couldn’t be trusted.”

I scanned my brain for my favourite cocktail. I wasn’t sure I had one. I preferred beer, really. I racked my brain to come up with something, anything.

“Has Frank got Guinness on?” Liam asked; he glanced over to the bar.

“Yes—” Ren said.

“She’ll have a pint.”

Ren’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Are you sure—”

“Are you sure, Red?” Liam glanced at me.

I grimaced. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not really a huge fan of cocktails. Willa used to order me her favourite—French 75—when we went to the bar by our office.”

Ren grinned. “A Guinness with a side of French 75. Genius.”

Before I could protest, Ren had dipped behind the bar, pulling down the Guinness tap.

“Were you telling the truth”—Liam’s voice was thick—“or were you just trying to get him off our backs?”

My eyes met his and softened. Why was I putting him through this? He was holding so much of himself back, holding halfof his heart back. I could see it in his eyes.

“I’m staying, Liam.” My eyes stung.

Liam exhaled hard. “You’re not pulling my leg?”

I laughed. “No.”