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“Not that crap,” Brad coughed out. “Amber. Dos Equis.”

“He’s full of shit,” Steve said. “He wants some fufu drink like a lemon drop. He’s our sensitive palate.”

Brad just shrugged his shoulders in agreement.

“Lemon drop and an amber. You, Steve?”

“Hell, I’ll do the same. Too many more of those,” he said, pointing to the empty glasses stacked on the table, “and I’m not going to work tomorrow.”

“Don’t you own the shop?” Owen asked.

“Yeah, but if I leave the kids in charge too long they start getting lazy or think they can run the show without me, so… I like to surprise ’em by showing up at different times every day. Keeps ’em on their toes.”

Owen laughed and headed to the bar.

“Three ambers and three lemon drops,” he told the bartender.

When in Rome.The bartender looked back at their table, probably wondering who’d ordered the shots. Surely not the same guys throwing back bottom-of-the-well American whiskey a second ago.

Owen paid and walked back with the three beers cupped in one hand, the shots in the other.

Steve whistled as Owen handed over the drinks to each guy.

“Not my first rodeo,” Owen quipped.

“No, I’d imagine it ain’t.” Steve chuckled, patting Owen on the back. “Glad you could join us.”

“Thanks for the invite. I needed this.” He gestured to his beer, which he took a long pull from, downing nearly a third of it in one breath.

“You and this guy both,” Steve said, slapping Brad on the knee just as he took a drink from his beer, spilling some of it on his lap. Brad glared at Steve, who only smiled like the whole thing was hilariously funny. It helped Owen take the edge off his own fury and humiliation from today. He’d needed a distraction, and this fit the bill.

“Yeah, so pick up where you left off earlier. What happened between you and Paige? And you and Julia?” Owen asked Brad.

Steve whistled, shaking his head.

“That’s a can of worms, right there,” he muttered.

“Well, Paige’s always hated Julia, couldn’t stand her for a lot of reasons I thought were trivial, snooty. Like Paige was above it all.”

“Like what?” Owen asked. He couldn’t imagine Paige thinking she was better than anyone else, but he did know whatever emotions coursed through her, she sure as hell had a hard time hiding. If she had a problem with Julia, she wouldn’t be quiet about it.

“Oh, she didn’t like that Julia worked in retail,” Brad started, but Steve interrupted him with a cough. “Yeah, I know that wasn’t all of it,” Brad said, “but that’s how I saw it. That Paige thought I could do better. I know now she really didn’t like that I worked two jobs and that Julia only worked part time. And that I pay for everything,” Brad said.

Another cough from Steve along with a rolling of the hand for him to continue made Brad sigh.

“Fine.” Brad resembled his mother just then. Owen’d seen Marge get that look of annoyance before—the Connors’s eyebrows furrowed, the lips thin lines of pale pink. “Paige hated that Julia never came to our family functions, that she’d get pissy if I didn’t come to hers. Paige argued that if she couldn’t be bothered to join our family sometimes, then she didn’t love me, not really anyway.”

“Makes sense,” Owen said, tossing back his lemon drop. He could barely make it through the shot without sucking in a breath and trying to shake off the sugar that flooded his system. Give him bottom-of-the-barrel swill any day over that shit. “She looks out for you and doesn’t want you to be taken advantage of.”

“Yeah, I eventually got that, but it took one helluva fight to get us there.”

“Why a fight now if this is how she’s felt all this time?”

“Because this time she accused Julia of cheating on me.”

Steve shot out of his chair, spraying the beer he’d just chugged all over the table.

“What the fuck, man? You buried the lead there.”