Ronan whips him on the back of the arm with the towel as he rounds the bar and saunters toward me, apparently in no hurry.

As soon as he’s close enough I slip my arm through his, noting how nice and firm his bicep is. I have the urge to trace the outline of the delicate, colorful blooms decorating his forearm. I notice, for the first time, that there’s a woman’s face set in the middle of them. I realize it’s the same woman in the picture on Ronan’s living room wall: his mother. And now I understand what he meant about wanting to see his memories and remember.

I pull him toward the door, yank it open and step out onto the sidewalk. It’s cold and dreary, so I press myself closer, using him as a barrier against the wind and rain. “Look.” I point across the street at the ugly sign.

“Oh shit,” he mutters and looks down at me, eyes wide. “Is this a joke? This has to be a joke. That place was a damn law office three months ago.” I still have my arm threaded through his, so when he moves toward the edge of the sidewalk he takes me with him.

He checks for traffic before he drags me across the street. To be fair, I could let go of his arm, but I don’t really want to. He smells good—like beer, cologne, and laundry detergent. It’s a nice combination.

I snuggle in closer, trying to claim some of his body heat as I read the notice taped to the inside of the window beside the Dick and Bobby’s sign.

“Damn it, they’re supposed to open in a month. How is that even possible? They have to gut this entire place.”

“It’s a chain, though, right? They have loads of money. It wouldn’t take much for them to be able to afford to renovate.”

“Why aren’t you upset about this?” Ronan snaps.

I shrug, trying to understand why he’s so panicked. “It’s a huge, impersonal big box place. Loud, awful, and the food is terrible.”

“Newsflash, Blaire, college kids don’t have discerning palates. This is like an indoor play place for grown-ups, with food and beer and gross coolers that only college students can stomach.”

“And I should be upset that they’re going to serve disgusting coolers, gross beer, and bad food?” My teeth start to chatter because it’s cold and even though I’m wearing my jacket, my legs are bare and there’s a breeze up my skirt.

“It’s all cheap. Cheap and shitty, but still cheap and do you know what college kids love?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “Cheap shit, Blaire. They love cheap shit. When are we busiest? When we have some kind of event and a promotion. Five-dollar pints draw college kids, three-dollar garbage draft is going to kill my business.”

“I think you’re getting your knickers in a knot over nothing, but I’m willing to listen as long as we can talk about how their awful beer is going to ruin your business inside your place of business before my legs turn into popsicles.”

His gaze moves over my bare legs, all the way back up to my face and more specifically my mouth. My teeth bang against each other, which explains why that’s where his focus is. “Yeah. Of course. You must be freezing.”

I hold my fingers apart a fraction of an inch. “Just a bit.”

We rush back across the street. “Take a seat and I’ll get you something to warm you up.”

“Sure. Okay.” I climb up on one of the barstools close to the draft taps. I rub my arms and blow warm air into my clasped hands. It’s really starting to feel like winter is on its way now. I should’ve put on tights today, but I was in a rush having slept in later than usual this morning.

Ronan brings me a steaming mug with THE KNIGHT CAP logo on it. It’s topped with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle. I grin and flip up the lid on the box of treats I brought over. The cupcakes are still Thanksgiving themed, but these I made special. They’re turkey butts that read EAT ME!

He smirks and plucks one from the box. “These don’t have some kind of chocolate filling in them, do they?”

“I guess you’ll have to eat it to find out.”

He shrugs and peels off the wrapper, taking a big bite. “So fucking delicious,” he groans. Once he’s polished off a cupcake he leans on the bar. “So D&B are going to be a problem for both of us.”

I sip my spiked hot chocolate. “Explain why you think that. Buttercream and Booze has a fun vibe, we serve specialty drinks, gourmet cupcakes. You serve local craft beers and great pub fare. Sure, you have the staples, like fries and wings, but you also have a great variety of other options to appeal to a more upscale customer. We also both have cool entertainment, which the people around here love.”

“I agree with all of those things, but do you know what D&B has that we don’t?”

“Bad ambiance and a tacky name?”

“Yes and yes, but also money for marketing. Lots of it.”

He waits for that to sink in. It doesn’t take long. I pull my phone out of my purse and bring up their social media. They have a massive following and they’ve just announced their new location coming soon on its own social media profile. I click on it and of course they already have double the followers I do. Neither of us has the kind of money they do to throw at TV and billboard ads. “And no matter how crappy a bar they are, that money equals visibility we don’t have, plus a recognizable name.”

“Exactly.” Ronan raps on the bar with his knuckles.

“You really think they’re going to be a threat?” For the first time since I saw that horrible sign, I’m struck with a niggle of worry.

“I honestly don’t see how they can’t be. Chain restaurants are notorious for killing off small businesses. They’re huge competition. I don’t know about you, but I have reno costs I still need to recoup and losing business to that nightmare is going to make it that much more of a struggle.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m barely scraping by,” I admit.

He seems surprised by that revelation. “It’s that bad? Your place is always hopping.”

“I got a really good deal on rent, which is basically the only reason I can afford the storefront, and Paul paid off the cupcake truck in actual cupcakes. At the end of next week I’m going to be on my own with cupcake production. Honestly, any loss of business is going to be bad for my bottom line.” And my bank account.

Ronan taps his bottom lip with his index finger. “You know what we need to do?”