My “Fuck, I’m gay” had resulted in Craig sitting at my side, arm pressed reassuringly against mine and sealing the deal with “No shit, and you have a big fat crush on my brother. That’s gross, mate.” His smirk had followed, as well as a more sober walk home, then twenty-four hours of “holy shit” conversation.
“Ouch. The fuck?” The elbow in my ribs jerked my attention to Craig. I shot him a glare. “You do that for?”
Silently, Craig lifted his brows high and gave a pointed look at his brother before shuttering his expression when I felt movement to my right. A quick glance in Ross’s direction, and his gaze was on the two of us, a smirk on his lips.
I grinned at him, completely ignoring how Craig had caught me staring at Ross. Not that I could help it. The man had matured in the best of ways.
He wasn’t as lean as he used to be, which I liked a lot. And at weekends, when he was in his rough and tumble clothes of jeans, plaid shirt, and when working at his place, an Akubra on his head, he looked especially fuckable. Much like he wore now, minus the plaid that was hidden by a sweater.
“You’re going to scare the fish,” Ross said.
“Right. Blame your brother for that. He can’t keep his hands to himself.”
Craig grunted. “Whatever. Just like someone can’t keep their eyes to themselves.”
My head whipped in his direction. He simply grinned at me. The arsehole.
“You know that doesn’t make any sense, right?” Ross said, and I smirked at Craig, shooting him the finger.
“You see, Ross even agrees that you’re full of shit.”
“Ha. I didnotsay that,” Ross said.
“May as well have, because it’s true.”
“It was an elbow, not hands,” Craig defended. “And you,” he grumbled, leaning forwards and eyeing his brother, “stop being so pedantic.”
Ross raised a hand in defeat. “Just saying the two of you are noisy as hell.”
The tug on my line drew my attention.
“You got something?” Ross asked.
“Looks like it.” I held on to my rod and took my time reeling it in, watching the rippling water as I drew in my catch.
“Five bucks it’s a bass.”
I didn’t look at Craig as he placed his bet.
“Five on a golden perch,” Ross added.
“I’ll take the bet that it’s neither.”
“No way. Make your call. If no one wins, the kitty rolls over.” Craig edged out of his chair a little, trying to get a better look.
“Fine,” I grumbled.
A couple of minutes later and harder work than I remembered it being, I pulled out a saratoga. None of us won the wager. The fish was a good size too. I unhooked it and released it back into the water. These fish weren’t for eating. It would be great to catch something to throw on the hot coals for lunch, though.
“You all set for starting your new job tomorrow?” Ross asked as we settled back down.
“Yeah.” When I’d moved just over a week ago, I’d already secured the position at a local cabinetmaking place, specialising in making kitchens. I took last week off to get settled back into the swing of things and move my stuff into the small house I’d rented in town.
My parents had offered to let me stay at theirs, and while they were away a lot travelling in their caravan, the thought of moving home wasn’t on the top of my list of things to do.
“I know a couple of the guys working there from school.” I removed my glasses and tugged my sweater off after I spoke, the morning winter sun having fully filled the sky, beating down on us. When I pulled it from my face, I glanced at Ross, my gaze zeroing in on the smattering of colour in his cheeks. His focus was dead ahead, his eyes wide, even obvious from his side profile.
I smirked, my ego doing a cheer, hoping to hell the pink in his cheeks was a reaction to my T-shirt riding high up on my chest when I’d tugged off the woollen sweater.
