The Come Again only has live bands on Friday nights, so we usually do our ‘let’s grab a beer’ thing on Wednesdays or Thursdays to avoid the crowds and so we can actually talk and catch up with each other. But Charlie said Jack needed a night out. An actual fun night with more people and music and not just talking to his brothers.
Fair enough. I said yes without hesitation. Our grandma is watching Jack’s kids, and I’m happy to help my recently widowed brother have some fun. A few beers, some good food, and some live music sounded like a great time. Harmless, even.
Until now. Now it looks like I’m going to have another night where it takes me forever to fall asleep, and when I do, I’m going to toss and turn with very inappropriate dreams about a woman who is completely off-limits.
This time I’m probably not going to dream about fucking her against a bookcase at her charming little library, though. I’m probably going to fuck her bent over the tailgate of my truck, with her still wearing those fucking boots.
Dammit.
“What’s with you?”
I look up at Jack and realize I cursed out loud. I clear my throat. “Nothing.” I look at Carver. “Made your wife come down here so you could keep an eye on her, huh?”
Carver chuckles, not in the least bit insulted. Carver and Kaelyn have been a couple since they were about four years old, and there isn’t a soul who knows them who doesn’t know that Carver adores the very air his wife breathes. Or who doesn’t know that they are very confident in their relationship and often go their separate ways. They are the least clingy couple I know.
“Why are you so grumpy suddenly?” Jack asks. “You’re not really worried Carver is going to ditch us for the girl gang, are you?”
“I’m not grumpy.”
“You have a problem with one of the girls?” Carver asks with a frown.
Yes, yes, I do Carver. I’m sleep-deprived and having some trouble with a constant semi-erection because of one of those girls. Thanks for asking.
“Of course not,” I say.
I can’t say yes. Kaelyn Spencer, now Riley, is one of the nicest people I know. And hell, Sloan and Whitney are my cousins.
Not technically. Their dads, Ty and Travis, are our dad’s brothers, but our dad, Tucker, adopted us. And we didn’t grow up like cousins. We don’t have childhood memories with them. The girls are a lot younger than all of us. Whit is the oldest of the Bennett grandkids, and she’s seven years younger than Jack, the baby of our family.
We were all in high school when they were just little kids, and we were out of the house before they were old enough to be interesting enough to pay any attention to. I remember a big group of younger kids running around at big family gatherings or when I came home from college for Christmas, but I couldn’t have even told you which was which.
Now I only know the ones who live and work around here, and I’ve still gotten Sloan and Melody mixed up before.
“Oh, David’s just realizing that our sweet town librarian can look like that,” Charlie says with a chuckle.
Jack frowns and glances toward the table. “Which one is the librarian?”
“The brunette in the cream-colored dress,” Charlie says.
“Ah.” Jack nods. “Nice.”
I lift a brow. “What?”
“She’s really pretty,” Jack says with a shrug. “You like her?”
“No.”
Charlie and Carver both laugh.
I scowl at them. “What? I don’t.”
“You do, too,” Charlie says. “Mia is very nice. You have zero reason not to like her.”
“Okay, I like her. She’s fine. But I don’t like her.” I sigh. We sound like idiots. “Jesus Christ, you guys. We’re not in eighth grade.”
“You’re right,” Jack says. “I should ask what I really mean. Do you want to date her?”
“No,” I say quickly.
