I made sure my glare was baleful and unflinching. “Not a chance.”
As if I would ever lower myself—literally—to sit on his lap. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where that would ever happen. Two broken ankles? Nah, I’ll pass. Just finished a marathon? I’d rather stand, thank you very much.
With a huff of annoyance, I tightened my hold on the neck of the bottle in my hand and turned away. I’d find another damn seat. Even the uncomfortable logs positioned around the perimeter would be a better option than spending my evening with Brady Judd. I’d rather have my butt go completely numb than have it contact any part of his anatomy.
However, before I’d made it a single step, I felt a hand close gently around my wrist. I didn’t get the chance to threaten violence or demand he unhand me. Brady released his hold immediately and stood in one fluid motion.
I hated how tall he was. I was a respectable five feet, six inches, but Brady towered over me at six three. He was long and lean from years of running and playing soccer. While I wasn’t intimidated, per se, I didn’t like how small and insignificant I felt standing in his overgrown shadow. I much preferred our interactions nonexistent, but if I had to pick, I’d rather he be sitting down.
“Here you go, Mac Mac,” he said, sweeping an arm out to the camp chair. I ignored the nickname. It was one of many he cycled through, and I’d learned a long time ago not to give him the satisfaction of challenging him on it. If you cracked the door even the barest amount on your annoyance, Brady would come strolling through it with a two-hundred-piece marching band.
My eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you doing?”
Shrugging, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his gray puffy vest. “Icanbe a gentleman when I want to be.”
My gaze drifted to the chair and then back to Brady, trying to decide if there was a catch. We’d played plenty of pranks on each other over the years. It wouldn’t be unheard of for him to yank a chair out from under me or to have sabotaged it in some way that had the nylon collapsing or the whole thing folding up with me in it.
He chuckled at my obvious distrust. “Just take it, Clark. I swear I’m being good.”
With that, he shuffled forward to slide around me. I didn’t make it easy on him. I stood my ground in the pathway that formed the perimeter of the fire. His tall body curved by, just shy of touching me. As he passed, his head dipped low, and he said quietly in my ear, “But something tells me you prefer it when I’m bad.”
His hushed tone and soft exhale against my skin had me fighting a shiver—one of disgust, no doubt.
My eyes snapped to his face just in time to watch him smirk and then turn away. He ambled off toward Jase Wilcox and Cole Abernathy, who were lit beneath the twinkle lights under the awning. Brady clapped both men on the shoulder ingreeting before he reached inside a waiting cooler and pulled out one of my five remaining ciders.
I let out an impatient breath when I realized I’d been staring after him like a damn schoolgirl. What had that been about? And why was it so hot out here? Oh, right. The bonfire. What was wrong with me tonight?
Cursing quietly, I slid onto the seat Brady had vacated, noting the warmth left over from his body.
Hazel Bradford was on one side of me, and it didn’t take long before we started up a conversation. She’d been a couple grades ahead of me in school and a cheerleader to boot. But we’d been friends a long time.
Hazel asked me how things were at Grandpappy’s, and we talked about the upcoming season at my family’s farm. Then I asked after the pottery she made and sold at the farmers’ market downtown. It wasn’t hard to talk to someone you’d known all your life. Like I said, most of us got along with one another.Most.
My eyes snagged on Brady as something Abby said made him laugh. He threw his head back, completely unselfconsciously.
I tuned back into the conversation as Hazel asked how my family was doing. I told her my sister, Bonnie, had just started back to school, and that was why she hadn’t joined me tonight. She was the art teacher over at Kirby Falls Elementary. While that was all technically true, Bonnie was also pretty busy with her husband, Danny, and his family. Bonfires and going out weren’t priorities for my sister anymore, which was fine. We were in different places in our lives. She was older and married. I fully expected her to start popping out kids and living that mom life soon.
“Are Junior and Nola gone for the season yet?” Hazel asked as my thoughts drifted away from my sister.
I nodded. “Yeah, they loaded up the RV this week. They’ll be in St. Pete until Christmas.”
It was common knowledge that my grandparents were snowbirds. They took their retirement from Grandpappy’s seriously, and they deserved it. My grandpa Junior—J.R. or William Jr. to some—and my grandma Nola had worked the land and helped run the farm and orchard until the next generation could take it over.My parents and aunt and uncle and cousins had all found places within the Grandpappy’s legacy. I worked there, too, chipping in and doing what needed to be done on the tourism side of things. I’d helped out in the fields when I was younger but left that part of the family business to my uncle William and his farmhands.
“I saw Larry at the bank this afternoon, so I knew she wasn’t coming out tonight,” Hazel said. “Why doesn’t Will ever come around? I know he’s practically famous, but everyone knows him. He’d be welcome.”
I got where Hazel was coming from. Will would definitely be welcome. He’d also hate every minute of it. A decade and a lifetime ago, my cousin had been a professional baseball player. An injury had stopped his career in its early stages, and he’d returned home to Kirby Falls to help manage the farm. He hated being recognized by theleafers—the tourists who visited our town in search of fall foliage—and he hated reminiscing about his past. Inevitably, some well-meaning local would bring up his baseball career. Some wounds went deeper than we liked to admit. Will was bitter and guarded, and I could understand his tendency to hermit himself away.
On the other hand, I thought his shitty attitude and resentment made life harder for everyone else. Our relationship was complicated, and oftentimes, he was more my boss than my cousin. I knew he thought I coasted through life, content to half-ass my job and everything else I did. Maybe he was right in some regard. But I was never going to live up to his standards. Why bother trying?
“Will keeps busy” was all I eventually managed. But Hazel nodded like she understood.
Our conversation continued as former classmates came and went over the next hour. The temperature dropped even more, and the heat from the flames was welcome as I tugged my flannel tighter around my torso.
A few times that evening, I caught sight of Brady—holding another bottle frommysix-pack, the ass—with Jase and Abby. They’d found seats at a picnic table away from the fire, beneath the awning near the coolers, and seemed content to hold court there.
Around eleven thirty, I decided it was time to head home. I’d nursed one cider all night, so I was fine to drive.
I said my goodbyes and made my way under the awning to drop my empty in the recycling bin. But just as I released the bottle, I felt a body stumble into mine.
