That didn’t satisfy her. “Tell me you’re going back to talk things through with him, to work things out.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

When he started to stand, she took his hand. “Let me go back with you. I want to help. I need to feel as though I’ve made some of this up to the two of you.”

“You didn’t do anything but fall for the wrong guy.”

She took a great deal of comfort from the familiar smirk. “You may be right. Let me come anyway.”

“Suit yourself. You might want to wash your face. Your eyes are red.”

“Great. Give me five minutes.”

Rachel could feel Nick start to tense up half a block from Lower the Boom. His shoulders were hunched, his brows were lowered, his hands were jammed in his pockets.

Typical, she thought. The male animal ruffles his fur and bares his teeth to show the opposing male how tough he is.

She kept the observation to herself, knowing neither of these males would appreciate it.

“Here’s the idea,” she said, pausing by the door. “It was a pretty slow night, and it’s already after one. We’ll wait until the bar closes, and you two can say your piece. I’ll be mediator.”

Nick wondered if she had any idea how hard it was for him to face what was on the other side of that door. “Whatever.”

“And if there are any punches thrown,” she added as she pulled the door open, “I’ll throw them.”

That brought the ghost of a smile to his face. It faded as soon as they stepped in.

Rachel had been right. It was a slow night, as it often was in the middle of the week. Most of the regulars had already headed off to home and hearth. A few diehards lingered at the bar, which Zack was manning alone. Lola was busy wiping down the tables. She glanced up, shot Rachel a satisfied look, then went back to work.

Zack took a pull from a bottle of mineral water. Rachel saw his eyes change, recognized the relief in them before the shutters came down.

“Hey, barkeep—” Rachel slid onto a stool “—got any coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Make it two,” she said, sending a meaningful glance in Nick’s direction.

He said nothing, but he did sit beside her.

“There’s an old Ukrainian tradition,” she began when Zack set the cups on the bar. “It’s called a family meeting. Are you up for it?”

“Yeah.” Zack inclined his head toward his brother. “I guess I can handle it. What about you?”

“I’m here,” Nick muttered.

“Hey.” A man, obviously well on his way to being drunk, leaned heavily on the bar a few stools away. “Am I going to get another bourbon over here?”

“Nope.” Carrying the pot, Zack crossed over. “But you can have coffee on the house.”