Page 3 of Summer Brew

Keaton Shaw.

My brother’s best friend.

The only guy I’ve ever wanted.

The guy who has never looked at me as anything other than his best friend’s little sister. Sure, he’s never said it that way, but I know. I’ve avoided the man as much as possible, but Storyville is a small town and complete avoidance is impossible. Especially considering how much time Keaton and Gary spend together.

Gary and Keaton are ten years older than me; I thought they were the best people in the whole wide world when I was little. I followed them around like a shadow. Thankfully, they never seemed to mind.

Well, Gary minded, but Keaton never complained once. I never even overheard him telling my brother that I was annoying or anything. As I got older, I realized just how special it was that they let me trail behind them, and that they tried to include me in most things.

His acceptance is what started the whole crush nonsense. He showed me the same kind of kindness Gary did. To my young little heart that meant he loved me. It didn’t.

Keaton has never looked at me like a woman he would be interested in. Honestly, if he did, I don’t know how I would handle it. I’d probably run screaming in the opposite direction; wouldn’t that be a sight?

“Not only does he know the chemistry behind what you’re doing,” she arches an eyebrow and adds, “which would probably be helpful to you, but he also has his own home brew set-up. Gary is always raving about the beer he makes,” she rolls her eyes when she mentions my brother.

He was like a brother to her and our other two best friends. They were less than thrilled about it. Except for Greylin because she has a brother of her own and knew the score already. For Meadow and Mayer? They were annoyed by the overprotective big brother routine.

I loved it.

Except I never wanted Keaton to see me as a sister. If he found out how I feel, I’d have to move to another continent after faking my death in the most dramatic of ways.

If I go to him and ask for help, I’d have to spend time with him. It’s unlikely that I’d be able to keep my shit together and not to do or say something obvious and embarrassing. Then he’d know; the thought of it scares the shit out of me.

“I’m not asking him,” the words come out petulant as hell and I don’t even care.

“Do you realize you don’t even say his name?” Meadow asks the question while tilting her head like she’s found something utterly curious and strange.

“I do say his name,” I insist.

Meadow’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and I replay the words back in my mind. The moment I realize what I did, I cringe.

“Keaton,” I whisper his name softly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Meadow follows up her snark by holding a hand up next to her ear.

After clearing my throat, my voice is only slightly stronger when I squeak out, “Keaton.”

“I can’t hear you,” her lilting voice is full of gleeful encouragement.

“You do know that you’re incredibly annoying, don’t you?”

“Am I?” Her question is filled with innocence as she bats her eyelashes at me.

“Yes,” I grumble and shoot her a look meant to be filled with disdain while falling short. As the silence from her stretches between us, I let out a long, annoyed sigh. “Keaton,” his name comes out much stronger and surer this time.

“There you go,” she cheers and does a little dance in her seat.

“You’re a menace,” I sass her with an epic roll of my eyes.

Meadow’s face goes serious and I brace myself for whatever she’s about to say because it could be anything. “You’re really starting to piss me off, Gemma. You’re being ridiculously stubborn about this and I don’t understand why,” the bafflement in her voice is easy to hear. “You know someone who does what you’re doing, a kindred spirit if you will, and instead of using him as a resource, you’re fighting against even a hint of the notion of going to Keaton for help. You’ve had a crush on the man for almost your entire life. It’s a long time to be pining. I think it’s time you put yourself in his path and see what happens.”

“I’m not putting myself in his path,” my voice is high, tight, and I basically croak out the last word with a look on my face of pure fucking horror. And terror, don’t forget the terror.

Meadow throws her hands up. “Why are you being so stubborn about this? You like him. You don’t ever spend any time with him, the last time was probably before you could drive. Now, you practically duck and hide whenever you’re in the same building as him. How do you know he won’t fall madly in love with you if you give him a chance to get to know the woman you’ve grown into?”

There is so much hope written all over Meadows face that it makes it hard to swallow for a moment. “He’s not interested in me,” I sigh, “and he never will be.”