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Raelyn grinned and shook her head, then glanced down at her phone. "Where is he anyway? I thought he'd be here by now." She turned and looked toward the house again, craning her neck in hopes of seeing that messy head of hair.

"Oh no," Amira said, turning to look as well.

"Looks like my future hubby has hi-jacked him to show him off.

" Amira pointed toward the shed where, instead of the mess of hair, Quinn was sporting a backwards baseball cap.

With the limited light, it was hard to tell from where they sat, but Raelyn thought it looked like his official LA hat.

His casual t-shirt stretched over his broad chest and biceps, and Raelyn couldn't help the mischievous grin that tugged at her lips.

Oh, the things I am going to do to you later, Quinn Casey.

"Looks like Brody might have prepared him for meeting fans," Raelyn said, amused. "I haven't seen him wear a baseball hat since he's been home." She was surprised at how much this relaxed, baseball jock look was already making her body hum from a distance.

"Aren't you going to jump his bones?" Amira asked, excitedly.

"I think I'll let the guys have him for a few before I steal him away," said Raelyn, watching as Brody led Quinn into the mini-pub to meet the rest of the guys.

"Also, I think it might be good if I'm not there when he meets Emerson.

He's already had at least two shots of whiskey, and I don't want to give him an excuse to go full dick-bag on Quinn. Because he will."

"Good call, sister," Amira said, turning back to face the fire again. "If they're not out of there in five though, we should probably go run interference."

"Agreed," Raelyn nodded, and the pair returned their focus to the bonfire and the rest of the girls surrounding it.

Quinn arrived at Amira and Brody’s house a little later than he’d expected.

At the bar with Chris and Jett, he’d been trying to convince one or both of them to come with him.

He was eager to see Rae, but anxious at the thought of meeting her ex-fiancé.

This was the guy who just over a year ago Rae had been planning to marry.

He wasn’t just some ex-boyfriend with an expiration date approaching.

To her, he was the one, even if it hadn’t lasted.

“You’re Quinn Casey,” Jett had stated. He and Chris then went back and forth reminding him exactly what that meant.

He was a Major League star player on, arguably, the best team in the league.

He had a multi-million-dollar salary. He was featured in magazines and had proven he could get just about any woman he wanted.

They assured him the one who should be anxious in this particular situation was Emerson.

Once his ego had been stroked enough and he was feeling good about himself, if even a little cocky, he left for the party.

He pulled into the driveway of the large modern craftsman, grabbed his L.A.

ball cap out of his back seat and flipped it back on his head.

Just to serve as a reminder of who Rae’s ex was messing with.

Hopping out of the Bronco and heading around back, he spotted Brody on the back patio and waved.

Brody was standing next to two men who must be brothers. Both tall with red hair and freckles.

“Quinn!” Brody exclaimed. “Guys, I told you he’d be coming.” He clapped his hand to Quinn’s and slapped him on the back before stepping back and introducing his brothers, Ethan and James.

“We were just grabbing another case to restock the pub,” Brody said, gesturing to the case of Labatt Blue in James’s hand.

“The pub?” Quinn raised a curious brow.

“Yeah, you have to check this out.” Brody waved his hand for Quinn to follow him down the yard.

There was a charcoal gray garden shed with white trim and a burnt-wood sign on the door stamped with “Kalahan’s Pub.

” A large shamrock was burnt into the wood, and there was a long, open window next to the door that appeared to wrap around the side of the shed.

There were bar stools set up along the outside near the window that had a small ledge, much like a very narrow bar top.

“Amira doesn’t garden, but the house came with the shed,” said Brody. “So I convinced her last year to let me convert it into our own pub. ”

“It’s become the go-to spot to hang out,” said Ethan, moving forward to open the door.

Quinn looked around before following the guys inside and saw that all the women were sitting around the blazing bonfire.

He wanted to go find Rae, but thought she was probably enjoying her girl time, and he didn’t think it could hurt to get to know a few more of Brody’s friends.

Stepping inside behind the three brothers, Quinn looked around at the impressive set-up.

It really did look like an actual pub. The bar top was glossy, live-edge wood, the back wall behind the bar had a back-lit liquor display and there were four separate taps for draught beers.

More stools with emerald green seats surrounded the bar, giving the place a very Irish feel.

Quinn spotted another sign over the bar with the same “Kalahan’s Pub” stamp as the door, and noted the signs for Guinness, Killian’s, Bushmills, and Jameson posted along the walls.

There were about eight other men inside the pub and Quinn skimmed the faces of all of them, hoping to be able to figure out which one was Rae’s ex.

Why didn’t I ask the guys what he looks like? Why didn’t I Facebook stalk the guy so I could be prepared?

Brody put his hand on Quinn’s shoulder and announced to the room, “You may recognize this guy from ESPN , Sports Center, Sports Illustrated ...or because you actually follow the game. Quinn Casey, everyone- Let’s make him feel welcome.”

Quinn was acknowledged with several friendly greetings, manly handshakes, and claps on the back.

“Don’t forget Men’s Health,” one dark-haired man with thick-rimmed glasses said. “My wife bought that issue with your article on ‘bed-breaking sex’.”

Quinn coughed as he laughed. “Yeah, that was a popular one.”

“Amira has your entire collection, actually,” Brody mumbled quietly. “I swear I found them stashed in her nightstand like a teenage boy trying to hide porn. ”

Quinn remembered his first run-in with Rae in which she was holding an entire stack of magazines all with himself featured on the covers. “I think Rae ended up with them, though I don’t know how badly she really wanted them.”

Brody looked relieved. “Good. Now that we know each other it would be a little weird.”

Behind the bar, a tall, well-built guy with sandy blonde hair and a short beard was setting out shot glasses. With a bottle of Jameson in each hand, he filled the glasses quickly and began passing them out.

“All right, all right,” the guy boomed, his voice low and carrying through the chorus of the other male voices.

“Everyone- back off All-Star for a minute and take a shot.

He looks like he's going to need one before all you wanna-be A-listers bombard him with more questions.” The man held a shot out to Quinn.

Sliding up to the bar and taking the shot glass, Quinn looked down into it and scrunched his nose.

He wasn’t supposed to drink at all. He was supposed to be Rae’s ride home, but he suddenly felt like he needed to make an effort to bond with these guys.

These were the guys in Rae’s circle, right?

She’d gone to school with Brody and Amira, and these were their friends.

They would probably be here a while anyway, and what was one shot going to do?

Finally Quinn passed the shot glass back. “It’s Maker’s or nothing.”

"Maker's?" the man chided. "We're taking shots, All-Star, not sipping whiskey and diet Coke like we're in a sorority."

Quinn laughed and shook his head, conceding, and took the shot with a wince. "Fuck, at least it's not Jim Beam."

“The All-Star’s a diva, huh?” The man- whose name he still didn’t know, he realized- raised an eyebrow. He seemed to be taking an X-ray of Quinn, taking in each and every detail in a split second before relaxing his posture, leaning back against the beer cooler.

“Nah, I just don’t drink a lot. When I do I guess I’m particular,” Quinn shrugged, and sat down on a cushioned bar stool .

“Well we do drink a lot around here,” Sandy-blonde said, slamming another shot glass down on the bar and filling it with Jameson again. He pushed the glass toward Quinn. “So drink up, All-Star.”

Quinn glanced down at the fresh shot glass in front of him, contemplating.

When the guy poured himself another shot and held it up, Quinn sighed, clinked his glass and threw it back.

With another wince, he set the glass back down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re trying to get me drunk and I don’t even know your name. Is this how Thor puts the moves on?”

The guy laughed heartily, “Ah, yes. Shots first- always.” He switched to a booming and rather convincing God of Thunder impression, “And then you put the hammer down! That’s how we do it back in Asgard.”

“You’re not actually trying to give Quinn Casey tips on how to pick up women, are you?” A blonde guy whose entire face just screamed “former frat-bro” chimed in, leaning up against the bar. “Seriously, Thor , when was the last time you tapped Giselle Frederick?”

Still not dropping the Thor voice, he replied, “Giving a woman shots isn’t exactly a ground-breaking strategy.” He poured two more shot glasses and slid one to Quinn again. “The secret is in the hammer. And if you don’t have the hammer, you won’t bring the thunder.”

Quinn let out an amused laugh and, without much thought, brought the new shot of whiskey to his lips.

Just as Quinn began tossing the drink back, the Thor impersonator muttered, “Fucked every single one of those Valkyrie bitches,” causing Quinn to choke and spit half his shot back out as he laughed.