Gently moving the pants to the side with nothing more than my thumb, as if that makes what I’m doing any more appropriate, I run the pad of my finger over the spot on the white t-shirt. It’s rough. My pulse races; there’s no way that’s anything other than what I think it is. Which means I was correct… After our hallway run-in last night, Finn disappeared into his room and jacked off.
Finn is as affected by me as I am by him.
It’s not one-sided.
Not that I can do anything with this information because he’s still my boss and still very much my sister’s boyfriend, but knowing I haven’t been misreading the tension between us, the subtle flirting happening the other night, and the way he looks at me sometimes feels…I don’t know, validating, I guess. But also, shitty because, again, I can’t do anything about it.
Blowing out a breath, I head to the kitchen, where I get started on making breakfast. It’s timed perfectly because by the time the French toast is done, Tucker pads into the room, squinting up at me with sleepy eyes and a smile plastered on his face. Forcing all thoughts of his dad from my mind, I dish us both up before we sit on the back porch and eat while Bubba plays with the chickens in the yard. Well, he attempts to, anyway, and watching him try is more than a little amusing, especially with a giggling Tucker by my side.
Strolling into the bar, I do a quick scan of the area, easily finding who I’m looking for. Tripp raises his hand to wave me over as I make my way toward the back, where he’s sitting in one of the few booths against the wall.
“Hey, man,” I say, sliding in across from him. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Glad you could make it,” he offers before pouring me a glass of beer from the pitcher in the middle of the table.
“Is August coming?”
He shakes his head. “No, he’s helping Hollis put something together at his place.”
Earlier this afternoon, Tripp texted me, asking if I wanted to grab a couple of beers with him at this bar I’ve never been to. Honestly, the invitation couldn’t have come at a better time because I can’t imagine facing Finn tonight after what happened last night and what I found in the hamper this morning.
“Have you been here before?” I ask him as I take a drink.
“A couple times with August. What about you?”
“Nah. I haven’t gone out very much since being back in town, and the last time I lived here, I wasn’t old enough to go into bars.”
We order a round of shots and a couple of appetizers for the table. It’s not too crowded here, which is nice. There’s a jukebox in the back playing music that does nothing but remind me of Finn, which annoys me, so I order another round of tequila shots. Then one more for good measure, until I’m pretty sure both of us are feeling a bit toasty.
Probably not the smartest move for a Monday night, but whatever. We’re having fun.
This is my first time hanging out with Tripp without his boyfriend here, but we get along really well. It’s kind of nice having a friend who isn’t related to my boss. And Tripp’s also not from here, so he knows what it’s like being basically brand new in town.
“So, how’s working for Finn going?” he asks after we finish off the rest of the nachos on the table.
“It’s good,” I chirp, replying a little too quickly as I bring my refilled beer up to my lips.
Tripp chuckles. “You sure about that? That didn’t sound all that believable.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I love hanging out with Tucker.”
“I can’t imagine working for somebody like Finn, though,” Tripp muses. “He’s always so serious. Does the guy ever even crack a smile?”
“He does.”And it’s fucking sexy when he does.
I contemplate telling Tripp about what’s been going on, at least from my end, because getting it off my chest would feel good. And Tripp’s technically like a neutral third party, and I feel like I can trust him.
But he is dating Finn’s cousin.
Heaving a sigh, motivated by my buzz, I lean forward. “Listen, if I tell you something, can you keep it between us?”
His brows pinch. “Of course.”
“I mean it,” I say. “You can’t tell nobody, not even August. Hell, especially August.”
Tripp shimmies in his seat. “Well, now I know it’s going to be juicy. I promise,” he mutters. “Now, spill.”
So, I tell him everything—the weird, longing looks, the nightly hangouts in the living room, the daddy thing, and what happened last night.
