He overheard his customers apologizing to his staff for their unusual behavior and the waiters discussing the generous tips they’d received. At least they were happy.
His employees gave him wide berth except for Jenny, who periodically came to him with questions. The young blond waitress had worked for him since he opened Acropolis, and although she wasn’t a manager, he left her in charge in his absence. She could’ve answered any one of those questions on her own. She was obviously checking up on her drunk boss. If he remembered in the morning, he’d give her a raise.
By the time the restaurant emptied, Braden was drifting on a cloud of pink cotton candy.
“Mind if I join you?” Ryan asked, settling onto the stool next to him.
“Sure,” he said, sounding strange to his own ear, his voice rough and thick. “There’s always plenty of room on my cloud for friends.”
Ryan’s four eyebrows furrowed. “I sent Portia home with Reina when I saw you drinking tequila from the bottle.” He pointed to the now half-empty bottle in front of them. “I thought I’d return the favor from when you helped me a few months back, and give you a ride home. Plus I thought you might need to talk.”
That’s what he got for having a best friend who knew all his secrets. He couldn’t even drink in peace. Maybe if he played dumb, Ryan would leave him alone. “Why would I need to talk?”
Ryan walked away then went behind the bar. “Tequila? From the bottle? The last time you drank tequila was when you couldn’t get the liquor license for Acropolis and you thought you’d lost your dream. The next day you made me promise never to let you drink it again. Now here you are chugging it like it’s lemonade on a hot summer day. Something happen with Lola?”
He went for the bottle, but Ryan snagged it back and pushed it out of his reach. Fine, he’d reassure his friend he didn’t need his help. “She smells like lavender, did you know that?”
That was not what he’d planned to say.
Ryan laughed and placed a glass of water in front of him. “No, I hadn’t noticed.”
Now that he’d started talking about her, he couldn’t stop. Ryan needed to know how amazingly special Lola was. “And she’s brilliant. I don’t mean she’s smart, although she is. She’s a genius, only she doesn’t want anyone to know about it. I mean, when she walks into a room, she lights it up with her brilliance. And she tastes—”
Ryan held up his hand and frowned. “You can stop right there. I do not need to know how my future sister-in-law tastes, thank you very much.” Both his mouths smiled. “So, you like her. What’s the problem?”
Braden sighed. “She doesn’t like me.” Drumming his fingers on the bar, he examined his friend. “How did you get Portia to fall in love with you?”
Ryan snorted. “First of all, I didn’t make her fall in love with me. She did that all on her own. You can’t control someone else’s feelings.” He tilted his head in thought. “Okay, maybe Lola can through pheromone manipulation, whatever the heck that is, but those of us who aren’t Muses are out of luck.” Ryan hopped over the top of the bar and resumed his seat.
Braden’s head pounded in agony. “Do you really believe the Dubrovsky women are Muses?”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I really do. There’s just something different about them, you know? And Portia brought out the artist in me, inspired that piece of me I didn’t know existed until she unlocked the door and set it free. Not to mention those dreams—”
“Dreams?”
His friend glanced down and exhaled. “Yeah. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this because you’ll think I’m crazy, but Portia and I shared dreams about our past lives together.”
The room spun, and Braden gripped the bar so he wouldn’t fall off his stool. “You weren’t by chance in ancient Greece swimming in the Mediterranean were you?”
Ryan shot him a look. “Ah, no. It was in Greece though, in our family’s village about a hundred years ago. Portia and I were married there in another life.”
They got married? Braden spent each night swimming for his very survival, getting beaten up by several large men, and Ryan got married? “That’s it? No one threatening to kill you or enticing you to your watery grave at the bottom of the sea?”
Ryan shook his head. “No. Although Alexander was there, too. He was the violinist at our wedding. Why are you asking all these questions? Are you two sharing dreams?”