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“Oh, yeah!” Finn exclaimed when he stepped in front of the mirror. I didn’t know why but it worked for him. Maybe it was the sugar stick he had jammed between his teeth or the big belt buckle he’d bought at the last souvenir store we’d been to. But somehow, as he shook his hips and admired himself in the mirror, it worked. The bright color complemented his dark hair and those Byrne blue eyes. “This is going on the list of things I need.”
“God, he’s never going to take that shit off,” Sam muttered. I glanced at where he stood, arms crossed as he leaned against a mirror. I watched as he ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed his face. The exhaustion around his eyes was worrisome, even as he offered a smile when he caught me looking. I knew Sam was struggling. I just had no idea how to help.
“Hey!” Lucas shouted from across the store. A mop-head of dark curls popped up over a display, his smile way too excited for whatever he was about to say. These boys. “You need a fringe jacket!”
“Yes!” Finn replied and hurried across the store.
“No one needs fringe,” Nolan whispered.
“I don’t know. If anyone’s going to pull off fringe, it’d be Finn,” I said.
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.” Pulling out another shirt, he sighed as he stared at it. Maybe not stared at it but rather through it. He was acting so odd.
“What’s wrong, Nolan?” I asked and took the shirt from him. Good thing too. He couldn’t pull off distressed tie-dye. “You’re acting weird.”
“You know I hate these things.” He shrugged. That part was true. Nolan wasn’t a social butterfly. He liked small groups, and that was it. Anything bigger was out of his comfort zone. His social anxiety could explain his odd behavior—it didn’t feel like the reason, but it could’ve been.
“Well, let’s go over the schedule.” I stopped everything to give him my full attention. “Just the next few days, complete with escape plans and safewords.”
“Safewords?” He cocked a brow. “Do I need a safeword?”
“I think every smut writer who hates socializing should have a safeword,” I shot back.
“I vote for custard,” Sam chimed in as he strolled past. “Pudding? Pie?”
“Oh, fuck.” Lucas joined us. “Did you see the diner with the state’s best pie sign?”
“I doubt it’s the best pie,” Finn retorted.
“The state’s best pie, idiot.” Lucas slapped him on the shoulder. “Not the best pie according to Finnegan Byrne.”
“Maybe we should road trip the best pie places in all fifty states.”
“You’d have to fly to Hawaii,” Nolan said. “It’s no longer a road trip if you get on an airplane.”
“Let’s get pie before we go to the clubhouse. Hell, we’ll get dinner and pie,” Sam suggested, and I frowned. All their detours were messing up the plans I’d made. How was I supposed to prepare for anything when a Byrne kept throwing a wrench in my plan?
“To pie!” Finn shouted. He started for the door, but Sam grabbed him.
“Buy the fucking hat or put it back,” he said.
“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed and disappeared deeper into the store.
“He’s going to buy that fucking fringe jacket,” Sam stated.
“Yes, he is,” I agreed. “We’ll meet you down the street, okay?”
“Make sure the jacket matches the hat.” Lucas grinned. “Or not. Both would be fucking funny.”
I waited a little impatiently for the chaotic Byrnes to make their way out of the store. I loved the lot of them, but man, they were a lot to handle on vacation. When we were alone in a store of distressed tie-dye and fringe clothing, I took Nolan’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze.
Nolan wasn’t like his brothers. Loud and involved wasn’t his thing. Quiet and alone was. I liked to pull him out of his shell when I could, but multi-pack functions weren’t the time nor place for that.
“Okay, what’s the schedule for the next few days?” I asked.
“Drinking. Way too much drinking,” Nolan murmured. Yeah, he wasn’t much for alcohol either. “Tonight they’re doing fight club and drinking. Bonfires, food, and all that.”
“Plus side, that’s easy to escape from.”
