Well, not on his own.

Without the needling of a blue-eyed, black-haired siren, he’d probably be well on his way to shutting the doors of ROON with shelves and shelves of untasted liquor.

He heard a low whistle as Liam entered the near-empty bar and took a look around. “You rob a bank? This looks like a place where money goes to disappear.” He settled at the bar next to Sam and nodded at Sam’s glass. “What are we drinking?”

Wordlessly, Sam passed the glass to his friend, who took a careful sniff and a sip.

Liam frowned. “Tastes like yours. The one from last year.”

Sam couldn’t hide the grin. Liam’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“They bought the whole batch and want more.”

Liam’s grin was almost as big as Sam’s own. “I was wondering when you’d finally get off the pot and actually do something with all of this delicious juice.”

Sam’s smile dropped a fraction, knowing he owed it to Liam, to Riley, and to himself to admit why he’d finally taken this step.

But first he wanted to get a drink into his friend. Liam’s right hook was bound to be a little less potent after a whisky or two.

The bartender poured Liam a couple of fingers from the tasting bottle Sam had brought in, and the two men clinked glasses. “To ROON,” Liam said. “And to a damn good guy finally getting what he deserves.”

The supportive toast knocked Sam a little off balance. Was this what he deserved? Even after Payton’s Place made the offer, a part of him had still wanted to believe it was more of a lucky break than a hard-earned reward.

Just like Riley had been more of a perfect fantasy he’d had to release before he broke it.

But what if he was wrong about that too?

It was time. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something,” Sam said, taking a sip of his drink and cupping it between his hands as he stared at the bar.

“ ’kay, but hold on. I’ve got a question for you first,” Liam said as he rummaged in his briefcase.

Sam nearly choked when he saw the magazine Liam pulled out.

Shit. Shit.

The very thing he’d spent the past week and a half trying to avoid, and the weeks before that trying not to think about, was now a foot away from him. For one childish moment, he actually contemplated batting it out of Liam’s hands so he wouldn’t have to see so much as a headline on the latest Stiletto issue.

He’d known Riley would write about him—about them. She’d threatened as much when she walked out that day, and he’d known he didn’t deserve to ask otherwise.

But he wasn’t brave enough to read it yet. Hell, he still remembered walking in on the weepy McKenna women when they’d read one of Julie’s article from the year before—the one where she’d put her heart on the line for Mitchell. Sam knew Julie only a fraction as well as he knew Riley, and even that had clawed at his heart.

This one would rip him apart.

“Put that away,” Sam said, trying to keep his tone joking. “You worried about how to combat winter weather’s effects on your delicate skin?”

Maybe Liam wouldn’t notice that Sam was about to rip the magazine out of his hands and either burn it or devour it.

“You read this?” Liam asked.

“Nope.” Was it his imagination, or was Liam studying him more closely than usual?

“Well, you probably haven’t heard about it, since you haven’t been to a family dinner in weeks, and you missed Thanksgiving, for God’s sake. Mom couldn’t even make it to pumpkin pie before she started crying over your absence.”

Dagger. Meet heart.

Liam continued. “But it’s the magazine’s fiftieth-anniversary issue, and all the writers had to do this personal behind-the-scenes type of story.”

Oh, I know about it all right. In fact, your baby sister propositioned me to sex her up so she would have something to write about.

“And?”

“Well, Riley’s article was … weird. Alarming, even. But what’s even weirder is that when I brought it up to my family, they all pretended it wasn’t weird. They’re hiding something from me.”

Sam’s palms began to sweat. So she’d told the rest of her family. It would explain the voice mails from Erin. And Josh.

And Meg.

And Kate.

Even Patrick had called from Boston.

Damn it, Riley.

Still, he supposed that was a good sign. They’d still called him instead of showing up at his door with torture devices.

And nobody had threatened death, so that was a positive.

Except … none of them had been Liam, so she hadn’t told him.

She’d left that to him.

He didn’t know if he was incredibly grateful or disappointed.

“So what did the article say?” Sam hated himself for asking, but maybe it was better that he hear about it here and now, where Liam’s fist would prevent him from doing what he wanted more than anything.

Which was going to her.

“Honestly?” Liam asked, flipping through the pages. “It’s got kind of a man-hating thing going on. Apparently this guy stomped on her heart, but Riley, being Riley, isn’t heartbroken. She’s pissed. And she let the entire Stiletto readership base know it.”

Sam tossed back the rest of his drink.

Her heart wasn’t broken?

His chest felt like it was splitting further and further apart every day.

Sam flicked his finger toward the bartender. Another.

“Give me the magazine.”

“What?”

“Give. Me. The. Magazine.”

Liam slid the glossy pages in front of him, and Sam’s eyes went first to the tiny picture of Riley next to her name, his eyes taking in her perfect, familiar features. She was smiling here. She hadn’t been smiling when she’d called him on his bullshit and walked away.

He hadn’t been smiling when he’d let her.

His eyes finally moved up to the bolded headline.

CAUGHT IN A BAD ROMANCE

The anger in the headline surprised him a bit.

Well then. At least she was finally getting it. Good.

But the ache in his throat didn’t feel good. Especially when his eyes skimmed over the bolded highlights of the article’s content.

“… I fell in love with a boy—but it took me more than ten years to realize the boy never grew into a man.”

Ouch.

“I thought if I just said the right things and did all the right girlfriend things, that he’d love me back. But listen up, ladies: No tips and tricks between these pages can fix a broken soul. Don’t break yourself trying.”

Broken? He was only broken when he wasn’t with her.

“For a long time I mourned the loneliness of not being in a relationship, but I’d rather have no romance than be caught in a bad one …”

“Damn it. Damn it!”

Sam didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until the bartender and the couple to his left gave him a wary look.

Liam, on the other hand, didn’t look at all surprised.

“So just one question,” Liam said as he took another sip of his whisky. “Exactly which one of you was going to tell me that you’ve been dating?”

There it was.

The bomb that Sam had been avoiding since the day he’d seen Riley’s skinny, sexy legs in those damn soccer shorts over ten years earlier. He’d been expecting a thunderbolt or maybe an earthquake.

At the very least, he’d been prepared for an up-front encounter with Liam’s knuckles.

Gathering his courage, he turned to look at his best friend, braced for disgust, anger, betrayal, or all of the above.

Instead he saw …

Curiosity? Maybe even concern.

“It didn’t go well,” Sam muttered, tipping his glass to his lips and staring straight ahead.

Liam thumped a hand lightly against the magazine article. “Nah. Really?”

“Why aren’t you more mad?” Sam asked. “Or are you just saving it until we step outside?”

“Well, I am a little mad. Mad that you didn’t tell me. And I’m mad that Riley apparently wants to barbecue your balls for some reason.”

“But you’re not mad that we … you know …”

“Screwed? No. I mean, I’m totally repulsed. But angry?” Liam considered. “I don’t think so. I guess I figured it was bound to happen some way. The way you were always trying so damn hard not to look at her when the rest of the pervs openly stared.”

Sam’s world tilted a little bit sideways. “But you told me never to touch her. You made me promise.”

Liam frowned. “When?”

“Over ten years ago! Right after I met Riley for the first time.”

His friend tilted his head, clearly trying to remember. “Huh.”

Huh. Huh? I’ve spent the past decade putting aside my own happiness for something you can’t even remember?

But …

Was that fair?

Had Sam ever gone to his best friend and said, “Look, I’ve got feelings for your sister. Thoughts?”

And after he’d acted on those feelings, had he called up his friend and said, “Punch me if you want, but I’m in love with your sister, and you’ll have to deal.”

Sam choked a little on his whisky.

Love?

Love.

Wait, that wasn’t right. Sam didn’t do love.

Did he?

Liam held up the magazine. “Are you telling me the reason you dumped Riley and sent her on this man-hating tirade is because you thought I wouldn’t like it?”

Sam wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell Liam and the whole world that he pushed Riley away because he was a good and loyal friend. Hell, it was part of what he’d been telling himself.

But it wasn’t true.

Liam’s long-ago don’t-touch-my-sister speech hadn’t been the reason Sam stayed away from Riley. It had simply been the excuse.

If he’d had half the guts she’d had when she came to him and suggested they act on what had always been there … if he’d been a little less of a pansy-assed weenie, maybe he could have had it all.

His friendship with Liam, his relationship with the entire McKenna family … he could have had the distillery, and hell, even the little dog that had wiggled its way into his heart in such a short amount of time.

Most important, he could have had Riley.

His eyes fell on her article and her well-deserved disdain. “I’m an idiot.”

Liam nodded once, although he clapped Sam on the shoulder to soften the blow. “Another drink?”

“Will it make it hurt less?”

Liam looked a little stunned at the admission. “I was about to give you the required lecture about hurting my baby sister, but now I’m wondering if I need to have a talk with baby sister about hurting my best friend.”

“No,” Sam said, digging his fingers into his eyes and trying to sort out the unfamiliar feelings. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Really? Because she pretty much castrated you with words. I mean I’d die for Riley, but this article is—”

“Completely deserved,” Sam said, running his hands over his face and turning to look at his friend. “Things were going great, and then I pushed her away like a little boy who decided he’d rather play videogames than kiss the cute girl simply because it was easier.”

“Wait, is she the one who got you the dog?” Liam asked.

“Yup.”

His friend winced. “So that was her bra I saw?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“No. No, I do not. So what’s next? Because I’ve gotta tell you, family dinners are going to be really awkward as long as she’s mad and you’re smitten, but you probably know that.”

“Yeah,” Sam said glumly. “I thought if we ended it quickly enough, nobody would get hurt, and things could go on unchanged, but …”

“But …?”

“I don’t know how I can face her. Not as a boyfriend, because I forfeited that right, and worse, not as a friend, because I’ve been a terrible one.”

Liam took another sip and put on his thinking face. “You care about her?”

“Yes. More than—”

Liam winced. “Okay, don’t get sappy.”

“Just wait until it happens to you.”

“Not gonna happen. I’m a lone stallion.”

“Yeah. Stick with that.”

Liam rolled up the magazine and tapped it against his palm. “I figure I’ve got two choices here. One: challenge you to a duel.”

“Um, pass?”

“Or two: help get you two weirdos back together so I can continue to eat my mother’s mediocre cooking with my best friend and my sister.”

Sam’s spirits perked up slightly, but he felt far from hopeful. He replayed her words over and over: I’d rather have no romance than be caught in a bad one …

“How drastic do you want to get?” Liam asked.

Key moments from the previous few months flitted through Sam’s mind.

Riley and the brave hope in her eyes when she’d boldly suggested they sleep together.

Their first kiss in that cramped room with her mother’s Christmas tree jabbing him in the hip.

The look on her face when she won the softball game. The noises she made when he touched her in the middle of the night.

The fact that she bought him a dog he didn’t know he wanted.

And the most painful memory of all: her telling him she loved him even when he was pushing her away.

He wanted it all back. Desperately.

But there was no brokenhearted Riley waiting by the phone, no pleading magazine article begging him to reconsider. It would take more than a casual drop-by apology.

“I’ll do anything,” he said quietly.

Liam nodded. “Good answer. Also, I don’t want any of those fussy little flowers on my lapel at the wedding.”

Sam’s stomach dropped. “Easy there. Nobody said anything about a wedding.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

Sam looked down at Liam’s outstretched hand.

Then he pictured the white dress. Her walking toward him with forever on her lips.

He pictured waking up every morning to Riley’s sassy comebacks and messy dark hair.

“Put that away.” He swiped his friend’s hand out of the way. No bet.

Liam grinned. “Thought so.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Riley wiped a glob of cream cheese off her chin as she looked at the piles of mail covering both her and Grace’s desk, not to mention the smaller piles on Julie and Emma’s chairs.