Rumors Guinness or Fate

Recap: 

Jake asked, “What brings you to Pine Ridge?”

You replied: "I heard this was the best pub in town—and I wanted to see if the rumors were true."

Your boldness earns a chuckle from Jake. His knowing smile doesn’t faze you—in fact, you match it. Why not? If they’re going to watch, you’ll give them something to see.

One of the brothers further down the bar raises his glass in a mock salute, a charming grin spreading across his face. “Rumors, huh? That explains the dramatic entrance.” His voice carries a teasing edge, but there’s warmth behind it.

The atmosphere shifts as the other brothers catch wind of the exchange. Even the leaner bartender—his sharp blue eyes glinting with mischief—pauses mid-drink mix to chime in. “Rumors are good,” Ian says, leaning on the bar. “Unless they’re about me. Then they’re definitely true.”

Jake sighs, shaking his head. “Ignore him. Ian thrives on attention.”

Ian grins, unrepentant. “I just give the people what they want.”

Across the room, one of the quieter brothers arches a brow, his studious gaze appraising. “Or what you think they want,” he says, his tone measured but laced with humor. He looks like the serious one of the group—a doctor, maybe?

Jake chuckles softly, as if he can sense the direction your thoughts are taking. His easygoing smile puts you at ease. He leans forward on the bar, his broad shoulders and muscular forearms commanding your attention. The faint scent of peppermint and something warm, clean, and distinctly masculine drifts toward you, making it hard to focus.

Jake’s focus returns to you. “Best pub in town, huh?” he repeats, setting a frothy pint glass in front of you. “Let me guess: they said the Guinness here is better than Dublin’s?”

Before you can reply, another voice cuts in. “Or maybe they said one of us is Pine Ridge’s most eligible bachelor.”

Laughter ripples through the bar, punctuated by a muttered, “God help us,” from one of the brothers at the dartboard.

“Obviously,” Ian says, preening. The smirk tugging at his lips suggests he’s used to delivering lines like this.

Jake sighs, shaking his head. “He thinks every woman wants him.”

You can see it. The man is a player, no doubt. Then again, you can’t see any of them having trouble finding female companionship.

Ian’s grin only widens. “She’s not denying it though, is she?”

The other brothers groan in unison. One mutters, “Here we go.”

Laughter ripples through the bar, and you find yourself smiling too. The air is alive with an energy that feels both welcoming and challenging, like stepping into a game you didn’t know you wanted to play.

Jake leans forward slightly, his easygoing smile softening into something more thoughtful. “So,” he says, pouring another drink for a patron nearby but keeping his gaze on you. “What really brings you to Pine Ridge?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t know the answer, but because the question suddenly feels bigger than it should. Before you can come up with something clever, the studious guy chimes in, “Bad weather or bad decisions?”

Jake shoots him a warning look. “You keep talking, and she’ll decide we’re not worth the trouble.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ian quips, shrugging. “I’m charming enough to make up for the lot of you.”

“Don’t mind him,” Jake says, sliding a towel over the polished bar. “Ian’s idea of conversation is throwing out lines and hoping something sticks.”

“Works pretty well most of the time,” Ian counters smugly. He shifts his attention fully to you, his expression turning more sincere—well, almost. “In all seriousness, though, welcome to Pine Ridge. Doesn’t matter why you’re here, only that you are.”

His words, paired with the warmth of the pub around you, settle something inside. Maybe this was what you needed—a place where you can just… be.

But Ian isn’t done yet. “So, what is it? Rumors, Guinness, or fate?” His tone is playful, but there’s an undercurrent of genuine curiosity that catches you off guard.

His grin lingers, daring you to answer. Around him, the brothers exchange amused glances, their personalities shining through in small, telling moments.

You hesitate, confidence still intact, but now there’s a spark of something else—a pull to understand more about these men and the place that seems to hold them all together.

Jake returns, catching Ian’s eye before giving you a small, knowing smile. “No pressure,” he says, his voice low and warm. “But whatever brought you here might be worth figuring out.”

His words linger in the air as Ian raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “C’mon, it’s gotta be one of the three. What’s the story?”