“Sure.” I stacked the crates behind the door, and let my gaze travel around. How could I get Noah in here? He’d look so pretty bent over the beer crates.
“Done.” I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe when I was back in the kitchen. “Do you need anything else? If not, I’m off.”
“Any plans for the evening? We were thinking of watching a movie together, Clara, Ariah, Ollie, me.”
“Nah, thanks for the invite, but I can’t. Noah and I have made plans.”
“Noah and I?” he echoed, glancing over at me with the knife poised in midair.
“Yeah, Ollie’s brother? We’re—”
“I know who Noah is, but I didn’t know you two were a ‘we.’”
I fidgeted on the spot, not knowing what to tell him.
I pretend to be his boyfriend, but we’re actually much more, and he loves my cock in his ass? I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him?
“Oh shit, Sinclair,” SweetPea chuckled quietly and chopped away at the carrots. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking Ollie’s brother,” he said in a carrying voice. With one thick eyebrow raised he pointed at me, his sharp knife in one hand, a carrot in the other.
I stood up straighter.
I will neither confirm nor deny it.
Our chef chuckled.
“What’s the joke?” Clara, who had just appeared in the door, tilted her elegant head.
SweetPea had turned purple at her approach, like he always did.
The stupid fucker. At least my puppy knows I want him.
The hairy fucker would never get any if he kept choking on his cock whenever Clara was around.
We all knew she was single—her ex had stood her up on their wedding day—but how long would that be the case?
Not for very much longer, this much was clear. She was too gorgeous to die alone.
“Ah, it’s nothing. SweetPea just inhaled too much of the Oaken Storm.” An open bottle of whisky stood next to him; I bet he’d used it for a sauce earlier.
She didn’t smile. Clara never laughed or so much as joked about anyone, least of all our chef.
“Allair, could you get me another steak, rare, no potatoes please?” She was the only one who called him by his real name. To everyone else he was “SweetPea.” Clara insisted on using his given name.
I hoped they’d get over themselves soon. It was painful to watch them dancing around each other. SweetPea nodded, giving her the hint of a smile that she returned before she went back into the restaurant.
“You should get a move on, sweetie pie,” I mumbled under my breath. “Or someone else is gonna get there first.”
An unearthly sound escaped the Brownie’s throat at my jab. It was a hissing snarl, and I chuckled in answer. I was two heads taller and about a hundred pounds heavier than him. He didn’t frighten me.
“Don’t worry,ScaryPea. I wasn’t talking about myself, she’s lovely and all, but I’m not interested.”
“Because you’re fucking Ollie’s brother,” he repeated under his breath, a pained expression on his face as if he was scared I was lying about my interest in Clara.
I gave him a tiny shrug as if to say ‘go figure’ and waved at him as I turned on my heel.
Yeah, gods damn it. I am fucking my best friend’s brother.
Nah, scratch that. I was head over heels in love with my best mate’s brother who would be gone from my life again in just a few days.
