“What do you want?” I eye them skeptically. They’re each handsome in their own way, but no two are similar, not even the twins. Michael and I are the only ones with blond hair. The twins both have brown hair, but that’s where their similarities end. Sean has light brown eyes like me and Trent has blue like Micheal.
“Nothing.” Trent shrugs and steals a chocolate from the bowl on my desk. “Dad told us to meet him here.”
“Well, since you’re here, can we please talk about the beards? They need to go. It’s December.” I say. I’ve sat through way too many No Shave November family dinners, watching food crumbs tumble from those birds’ nests and I can’t do it anymore.
“I can’t.” Trent says. He’s right. He has a total baby face without a beard, but the other two don’t have the same excuse.
“At least trim it.” I sigh and try to focus on my plans again. “You look like cavemen.”
“Why do you get an office and we don’t?” Michael asks for the fiftieth time since I came to work at the shop. As the oldest, he has been working with dad the longest.
I understand why he’s upset. I also don’t care.
“Because I’m the favorite,” I say, my voice heavy with sarcasm. It isn’t an office. It’s a glorified closet with a desk and computer. But somehow, it’s always the most packed place in the shop because of these fools right here.
“I don’t pick favorites,” Dad says, sliding into the room. He winks and kisses me on the forehead.
“I’m glad you’re all here. I’m looking into dates for the Christmas work party. Does anyone have conflicts with the seventeenth?” Dad looks around.
“I do.” Sean says.
Great. I’m never getting out of here.
We spend the next five minutes discussing dates and times, finally narrowing down the perfect date.
“Hey guys. What are we talking about?” Says a deep voice from my doorway. This voice doesn’t set me on edge like my brothers’ voices do. It’s deep and warm and gets my heart racing every time I hear it.
Grant.
“Great. Now it’s a party.” I mutter, though my insides do a little happy dance.
Because my crush on him still hasn’t died. It’s only gotten bigger and stronger, just like his biceps. The last couple years have been exceptionally good to him, probably because he runs the installation crew, so he spends his days lifting heavy cabinets with those tree trunks called arms.
I’ve wasted way too much time thinking about him doing that job shirtless. But he can never know. Neither can anyone else, for that matter. Hence, the reason I pretend he’s just one of my brothers.
“We’re discussing the holiday party. How’s the twenty-second?” My dad asks him.
Grant nods without bothering to check his calendar. “That works.”
“Are we bringing dates this year?” Trent asks.
The guys all snort.
“I don’t know if we should after last year.” Dad glares at Sean.
Sean’s hands shoot in the air. “I didn’t know she was a belly dancer. Or that she was going to give everyone a show.”
I laugh along with the guys, even though I wasn’t there. I’ve heard so many versions, and know everyone was uncomfortable during that unprecedented performance, but no one was more uncomfortable than Sean because halfway through her routine, she managed to get him shaking his hips along with her. Thank goodness Michael got a video. We watch it at least once a month at our family dinner.
“It wasn’t a show. It was a nightmare,” Trent exaggerates.
“We can’t help it if Sean likes the nightmares,” Michael chuckles.
Sean tries to put Michael in a headlock, but Michael jumps behind my chair, squishing me into my desk.
“You can bring a date,” Dad says. “But I think I'd like to meet her first.”
Sean scoffs. “Why just my date? Why not Micheal’s?”
