The Stories You’ve Heard

Recap: 

Ian asked, “C’mon, it’s gotta be one of the three. What’s the story?”

You replied: "Rumors, of course. They said this was the place to be—and I had to see for myself."

Ian’s grin widens, a spark of amusement lighting his sharp blue eyes. “I knew you were a smart woman,” he says, leaning one elbow on the bar. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was preening. “I mean, obviously, they’re right.”

Jake huffs out a laugh as he wipes down the counter. “Careful, Ian. The pub’s not big enough for all that modesty.”

“I’m just stating facts,” Ian counters, his tone playful. He gestures broadly toward the room. “Best pub in town, best company in town, best stories in town.”

“And yet,” Jake interjects, his voice calm but laced with humor, “the only person talking about it is you.”

The brother sitting farthest from you grunts softly, his large frame casting a shadow as he leans back against the wall. His blue eyes are like ice chips, discreetly watching over everything. Unlike the others, he doesn't look particularly friendly. You instinctively know he’s the oldest, and that he doesn’t say much, especially around outsiders.

The banter between them is infectious, and you find yourself smiling as Ian feigns offense. The wink he gives you ruins the effect. “Hey, I tell it like it is.”

“Or your version of how it is,” comes a dry comment from across the room. You glance over to see Michael tossing a dart with precision. His sharp blue eyes flick to Ian, his smirk faint but unmistakable.

Ian rolls his eyes. “Ignore him,” he says, turning back to you. “Michael thinks he’s the voice of reason. But really, he’s just jealous of my charm.”

“Jealous?” Sean says, jumping in. “I’ve seen better charm from a broken jukebox.”

The brothers laugh, the sound warm and familiar, wrapping around the room like the glow of the pub’s lights. You’re not sure if it’s the good-natured ribbing, the atmosphere, or something else entirely, but you feel yourself relaxing, sinking into the moment.

Ian leans closer, his grin turning conspiratorial. “So, be honest—what else did they say? Did the rumors mention the Guinness? The unbeatable dart games? Or…” He pauses for effect, sweeping his hand to encompass the bar. “The most eligible bachelors in Pine Ridge?”

“Here we go,” someone mutters. Sean, maybe? Shane? They look so much alike, it’s hard to tell.

A groan rises from another corner of the room, where a hulking man with boyish features sits. You wonder if he’s old enough to drink legally.  “I want it known that he doesn’t speak for all of us,” Kieran says, shaking his head.

Jake snorts, his expression torn between amusement and exasperation. “And yet, somehow, we all get dragged in.”

“Because it’s true,” Ian quips, throwing a wink your way. “Don’t let them fool you. This pub is legendary—for all the right reasons.”

Jake leans on the bar, his gaze steady and thoughtful. “What Ian’s trying to say—and doing a piss-poor job of it—is that Pine Ridge is special,” he says, his tone quieter now. “The people who come here? Well, sometimes find things they didn’t know they were looking for.”

The words land softly but linger, wrapping around the teasing like a thread of something deeper.

Ian claps his hands together, breaking the moment. “And on that note—are you ready for the full experience?”