Wild Dreams: A Friends to Lovers romance (Wilder Irish Book 12), Mari Carr [motivational books for men .TXT] 📗

The place had been completely gutted, all the soot, debris, charred wood, destroyed furniture, and shattered glass cleared out. Fortunately, Caitlyn’s husband, Lucas, had a good relationship with the building inspector, who’d come to check out the building two days after the fire. Once he’d given them the all clear, assuring them the building was safe to enter, they’d gone to work on the cleanup quickly, aware that time wasn’t their friend when it came to the threat of mold and mildew.

All that remained now was an empty shell, no walls, no ceiling, nothing to reveal what this place was or had been.

In his mind’s eye, he let himself imagine the pub as it was just a month earlier, one night while he’d been doing a happy hour with Erin and Gavin. The place had been crowded with patrons, watching hockey on the big screen with enthusiasm—alternating between cursing and cheering. He, Erin, and Gavin had been drinking pitchers of Guinness, laughing, talking. Pop Pop had been in the middle of all the action, as always, holding court in the center of the bar, while Emmy’s fingers flew over the keyboard of her laptop from her spot at the end of the long mahogany counter, a half-full glass of white wine beside her. Padraig had been pouring drinks, telling tales, entertaining everyone with jokes and sports trivia.

Every inch of wall space had been adorned with sports pennants, antique tin signs advertising different beers, autographed and framed photos of every famous person who’d ever walked into the pub, as well as old black and whites of Pop Pop and Grandma Sunday, back in the early days. It was incredible how many years’ worth of memories had been packed into this building, a lifetime of amassed treasures.

And it had all been destroyed, reduced to ash in just one hour.

He jerked slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, son. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Oliver turned and smiled at his dad, Sean. He hadn’t even heard him come in. “Guess we’re the first ones here.”

“What about Gavin? Thought he was coming.”

Oliver shrugged. “He was at a different work site this morning, but he was planning to be here. Maybe he got held up.”

Dad jerked his head toward the entrance. “I just saw the Morettis pull into the parking lot across the street. You okay? You seemed pretty far away there.”

Oliver shrugged. “Still struggling to…”

Dad gave him a sad nod. “Yeah. It’s hard for me to see it like this too. But you and I both know J and K Construction can rebuild this place, make it even better. All new electrical wiring, plumbing. No more clogged toilets to fight with in the men’s room. No more patching that damn crack in the back wall every other year. Better lighting. Whole place has been too long overdue for a fresh coat of paint and the floors in bad need of refinishing. We can do all that now. Make this place shine.”

“You’re right.” Oliver tried to shake off his heavy feelings. His dad always managed to find the bright side in things. And he was confident in his family’s skills when it came to the rebuild. Between that and the Moretti brothers’ talents when it came to home restorations, Oliver genuinely believed they could return the pub to its former glory. It was just his damn impatience getting the better of him.

They turned to the entrance as Tony Moretti walked in, followed by his brothers, Joe, Luca, and Gio. Bubbles and Aunt Riley had dubbed them the Italian Stallions the first time they’d met the brothers, both of them joking that they’d wasted too many years living in Baltimore if the Morettis were the standard fare in Philadelphia.

Oliver had to admit…Bubbles and Aunt Riley weren’t wrong. All four of the Morettis were tall—well over six feet—with broad shoulders, thick muscles, eyes so dark they appeared black, and strong Italian features.

“Down, boy,” Dad murmured, obviously noticing Oliver checking them out. Of course, he could have issued the same warning to his dad. They really were birds of a feather, something Oliver’s mom and Pop Pop had said at least a million times in the past.

“Sean, Oliver. Good to see you both again,” Tony said, walking over, hand outstretched. They all shook hands. Layla’s brothers had spent a fair amount of time in the pub over the last couple of years, visiting their sister every two or three months. Oliver figured the reason the Collins and Moretti men had clicked so well was because they all tended to be fairly overprotective of the women in their lives. Though Layla had started joking lately that she didn’t think they were coming because they were worried about her anymore, so much as they just wanted an excuse to drink with Miguel and Finn at the pub.

Tony glanced around the building and shook his head sadly, as Joe muttered, “Damn, I just can’t believe it. Layla said it was all gone but…still…”

It was their first time seeing the pub since the fire.

“I’m sorry for everything your family lost,” Gio said to Sean. “This place was special.”

Dad smiled. “Yeah. It was. And with your help, it will be again.”

“How’s your Pop holding up?” Luca asked.

“He’s doing the best of all of us,” Oliver said. “Been joking lately that the fire saved him from being the first person in the world to fail at the Marie Kondo method. In Pop Pop’s world, everything sparks joy.”

Tony chuckled. “That sounds like him.”

Dad laughed. “Told Riley she might want to start limiting his TV time. The man is obsessed with home improvement shows these days. I’m sort of surprised he didn’t try to crash this meeting. He’s got about a million suggestions for the restoration.”

“You should have invited him to join us,” Tony offered.

Dad considered that, nodding slowly. “Might do that next time. He…hasn’t been back here since the fire, so I was hesitant to…”

Tony nodded. “I understand. Next time, we’ll meet somewhere else.”

“Sounds