“Fuck.” I scowl across the crowded bar in downtown Willow Bend. “I wasn’t even thinking about that.”
I know my niece and nephew are going to like Toby. There’sreally no way around it. He’s fun and goofy and has a pool in his backyard. Plus, he got them a puppy.
But that doesn’t mean they’re gonna like him best. Especially not once they get a little older. Then they’re going to figure out Uncle Tucker’s where it’s at, and my basement will give Toby’s pool a run for its money.
“What in the hell am I going to do then?” I rake a hand through my already messy hair. “I’m not like Titus and Toby. I don’t want a wife following me around my house, picking what we watch, and deciding what we do.”
I like being single. Love it, actually. It’s the best fucking thing ever. There’s no baggage. No overhead. No risk. If I get lonely, I find a nice young lady on the same wavelength, we scratch each other’s itches, then go our separate ways.
No harm. No foul.
“Try being an asshole.” Trevor smirks. “She might still come for you, but you’ll make her job a hell of a lot harder.”
It’s not a bad plan. The issue is, I don’t think I could be an asshole if I tried. I’d feel too guilty. End up being even nicer to make up for whatever attempt I made at being a jerk.
“You know Captain Funtime can’t be mean to anybody.” Walker tips his head as he reconsiders. “Except maybe Brooke’s ex-husband.”
Just thinking about that mother fucker makes my blood boil. “I really wish she would’ve let us smear him across the floor.”
Trevor tucks his chin in a sharp nod. “Agreed.”
When that prick Matt showed up at our parents’ house thinking he could drag Brooke back to California with him, my brain shorted out. I was ready to break bones and crush egos. It takes a lot to piss me off, but once I’m there, no one is meaner than me.
Except maybe my mom.
“I still hope we can find a connection between him andthe guy who plowed into me and Toby.” Walker works his jaw from side to side, staring at the bottle in his hand. “He deserves to suffer for everything he put Brooke through.”
Heavy silence settles over our table. I don’t know the full story of what Brooke went through in California, but what I do know makes me consider taking a road trip. A weekend away at a California winery.
Based on the looks on my brothers’ faces, I wouldn’t have to go alone.
“How are you boys doing?” Our waitress sidles up to the table we occupy every Friday night. Melinda serves us on nearly all of them. She’s a total sweetheart, with sons about our age. One of whom will always need constant care. “Anyone need another round?”
I look into my empty glass, weighing my options. I could sure use another drink after working my ass off all week, but I’m fucking exhausted. Not just physically, but from the weight of the unknown. Not knowing what’s really going on or who’s behind all the shit that’s happened is driving me absolutely insane. We’ve got more questions than answers right now, and every day that passes, those questions only get louder.
Who was dead Dan really? Why the hell did he want to take out our servers?
Who was the guy who hit Toby and Walker? What in the hell was he trying to accomplish?
And when is my mother going to attempt to get her grubby little hands on my personal life?
Lifting my eyes to Melinda, I give her a smile to hide my concern. She’s got enough of her own shit to worry about. “I think I’m going to call it a night.” I give her a wink. “Gotta get my beauty sleep.”
Melinda rolls her eyes. “Talk to me in thirty years about needing beauty sleep.” She turns to my brothers, brows lifting inquestion. “What about you two? Are you tapping out early too?”
Like me, they seem torn, but eventually decide to call it a night as well, standing from their chairs to dig out their wallets. After settling up with Melinda, we file through the crowd, heading for the bar where we each drop a hundred dollar bill onto its worn surface. Barbara, the owner, collects the stack, giving us the same conspiratorial nod she does every other Friday evening, letting us know the cash will anonymously find its way into the correct pocket.
At this point, Melinda likely knows who adds three hundred dollars to her tip tally every Friday, but everyone involved pretends like they don’t know what’s happening. And I like it that way. It doesn’t make shit weird, and her life is a little easier.
Walker and Trevor are a few steps ahead of me as we move toward the door, weaving our way past people out to kick off their weekend with a bang.
I used to be one of them. Friday night was my favorite part of the week. It held so much promise and potential. Offered the opportunity for companionship and excitement.
I don’t know when that changed, but it did. And it’s driving me just as crazy as what’s happening with my family and our business. Now all my Fridays kick off is a long weekend of sleepless nights and monotonous days.
I’m closing in on the exit and another night alone when someone steps in my path.
A very pretty someone with long dark hair and big brown eyes.
